Novel Ideas (The White Whale Goes to the Great White North)

Orson Whales swam up to Canada for a show at Oakville Galleries. They are projecting the video and have all the original drawings stacked in a glass vitrine like some sort of unholy relic. Last week The Whale was also featured by Flavorpill’s Daily Dose. Like the Leviathan that inspired it, this viral video refuses to die. Here’s the Video in case you’ve missed it:Adam David Brown, Ian Carr-Harris, Brian Dettmer, Paul de Guzman, Alexandre Itin, Nicholas Jones, Georgia Russell, Robert The

In a rapidly growing world of new technology and electronically disseminated ideas, books have become endangered entities. They are old-fashioned forms in a society that feeds on convenience, archival impulses and a constant desire for instant gratification; in which information travels fast, and at the single click of a button. In this exhibition, artists create tangible forms that demonstrate the book’s practical use: to be consumed, absorbed, and eagerly explored by inquiring minds and willing hands. Books become snapshots of a specific time and place, not only in the stories they tell, but through their very bindings and typefaces, even by the distinct telltale aroma that only the most time-worn novels can possess. Here, bound pages are transformed into sculptural objects of curiosity, valued not only for their content, but for the many aesthetic possibilities of reconfigured paper and ink.

Novel Ideas explores the reincarnation of found objects and literary detritus in a collection of bookworks by eight international artists. The featured artists seemingly resist suggestions of rapid technological progression with their more rudimentary approaches to art: acts of slashing, cutting, dissecting and extraction are reductive processes that reveal the presence of newly-appropriated meaning through the very voids they create. Thus, with marks borne from blades rather than brushes, these books become more than just vessels for information and narrative fancy—they begin to exist as physical testaments to their own novel forms and ideas, questioning the way we traditionally consume the written word.

This form of consumption mirrored in each act of physical extraction made upon aging covers and delicate pages demonstrates the ease with which ideas can be manipulated to create alternate modes of visual and intellectual instruction. Classic stories and didactic texts are transformed by acts of selective cutting that leave surprising and new visual narratives. Some texts are gutted and dissected, actively questioning the limitations of scholarly authority, while other artists play directly on the novel itself as a statement piece, with works that are sculpted to reflect their titular properties. Video pieces, on the other hand, present a simultaneous contrast and union of traditional and new media.

These artistic processes recall functions of editing, erasure and censoring, all vital elements in the act of literary creation. But perhaps more importantly, they reflect a constant human need to question, appropriate, challenge and interpret. In Novel Ideas, words are consumed and ideas are released from the bounds of their covers, wholly concrete, and forming new entities unto themselves. Here, books become curious objects of beauty to behold, and a celebration of everything that exemplifies the archaic charm of ink on paper, and of pages turned and cherished.

by Gabby Agoncillo

Hanging Myself

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Not funny really in this time of Infinite Jests, but maybe it is really exactly how I feel. I mean in the sense of eternal return, or Metampsychosis, or however you spell it and whatever Joyce was talking about…. I’m hanging the show. I feel like a worker… in the Marxist sense of that word: working on the ladders with the back into it. I mean to say that hanging a book is a physical act. I’ve been training for it like a boxer at the gym.. but my fucking thumbs are still weak for the push pins and the map pins and the pins and needles and needles and pins…..feel like a carpenter… feel like Christ crucified… stigmata on my thumb. LOL. music here is some odd Brian Wilson post Smile mid mad period song. Fucking lovely and perfect fit for my raw time lapse. More to come…

Kodachrome Nikon Daze


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the animated bunny is from Brian Raszka for The Library Project. The first image is of my archive under my house in CT where all the old days are stored… outdoors… it’s a long story… you should read the old days of the blog, etc…. anyways I made that shit to last and last they shall and fuck time and fuck space and rain and….

gee don’t I sound like king lear?

Well a house devided, etc.

Collective Unconscious


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I spent the afternoon with Will Croxton of the Royal Wylds and his beatiful baby and we watched some old vids of the band at Magnetic Fields and talked about scoring the Let It Be Taciturn turn turn movie and the upcoming shoot for Kimbo single and finished off with watching Paul Simon rock Little Surfer Girl from the Brian Wilson Tribute concert at Radio City that Queen Sylvie got moi roi ticks for a past B. Day. The evening turned into a Future Book romp with the Institute gang and entourage going toThe Animal Collective show at South Street Seaport. Let’s face it. Mos Def had it right: Brooklyn Rocks the best and it’s fun when it rocks Manhattan and then you spill into Chinatown and blind delirious laughter.

Pittsburgh Going Ashore – Pittsburgh Coming Aboard

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ABC is as easy as 1 2 3 as easy as Do Ray Me, you see?

Once I saw the changing of command on the USS Pittsburgh at Grotton, CT with my brother from a Bolex mother. When The Captain leaves the ship they blow a dog whistle and say: “Pittsburgh going Ashore.” It is as if the soul of the boat has left the boat. When The new Captain walks the gangplank, the dog whistle is blown in opposite progression and the Ensign speaks these magic jazz hand words: “Pittsburgh Coming Aboard!” and it is as if the boat is born again.

Me and Pat call melady Young Pas (or green onion in Korean, or Sly to the Midwesterners or Sylvie to you… etc.): Pittsburgh. She is the Captain my Captain. She is the queen of that little steel Swiss, but rusting Town in the middle of the Eastern Sea Board. I was throwing out all my old clothes yesterday and getting rid of all the wire and plastic hangers… nothing but wood is good quoath Pittsburgh and I concurred while wearing the buddhist Stettson and the silk guns and the Star Wars blasters still in the a tiny casket to be burried by the IRA somwhere beside the river Liffey. I tripped and fell upon a Bazooka shell full of old memories of Pittsburgh’s youth and there were steller shots of her as Stella amongst the stars and my street car named desire and some calling cards from old beaux and a shot of her leaning away from a dire wolf… him stealling kisses and trying to eat her heart out and I realize it is good to walk with pax but always have silk guns in a silk casket somewhere… the silent big stick as the Church on the Hill said, or was it The Mac daddy Author, or Ike? Yes Ike who I like if only because he said, “Beware the military industrial complex”… The king can speak the truth, but the wolves are still there… stealing kisses, and hearts, and gold, and souls.

I became quite green with jealousy looking at the explosive contents of the shell… and then I found a receipt for the first futon we ever shared and a letter I wrote to fair Pittsburgh in Pittsburgh when I was in the Tower of Pain and hats and song. It was not the most regal of things… a manic all night scrawl on yellow legal paper… but you know what? It was really a very romantic letter. It brought a single tear to my eye that dropped into the vast Atlantic… How can a shell hold such wealth I thought? For in that moment I realized that this was a contract signed thirteen years ago… So Why has it taken me so long to honor it and honor fair Pittsburgh?

… Because you see, I have been hiding in plain sight, playing the fool on the hill. Now it is time to wear the purple robes and take the crown that is mine. Today Pittsburgh. Tomorrow the world. It is my job to be her knight in shining armor coming to her emotional rescue on a fine Arab charger. It is my job to keep the dire wolves at bay. Hail Pittsburgh hail the Queen.
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I was at Freddy’s the night Sly Fox left for Las Vegas and I gave two guys my moleskin and said, “Make me a drawing, buy me a beer…sort of as a joke…and I went outside to smoke… when I got back they had drawn this and bought me a magic hat #9… it is names of the superbowl champion (two years in a row) Steelers from the seventies when I used to wear the black and gold slicker to protect me from the hard rain…. Coin see dances coincidences…. They were Pittsburgher… friends from many moons ago… reunited in the city on a drunkes Spree… fiddle di di.

Drunken Boat


freeworld.jpgOh the honey and the wine and women and song did pour fourth from the mouth of a yellow whale, where I crashed upon the shore of some magnificent island populated by circe and her two sisters yin and yang. It was like the crystal noise from Zimmerman’s lyre and moaning of monica. There were the hebrews and the Romans and Celtic tribe as well, but I walked with silk guns and white arab charger to unite the world on one great drunken boat

or: I went eating and wine tasting at Tribecca festival. If you want to be treated well in life, I suggest you roll with beautiful Korean women, you’d be surprised what people will give you for free, just because of those lovely smiling eyes. Then off to the temple on the mount for Noahs Barmitzvah… havanagela and MORE wine and food and dancing of the horah and on and on. You cant make this sort of stuff up. It is just wild eyed JOY…. Be Attitude and Beat Less.
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This is Harry Twep… an Id character that I drew on a retreat when I was maybe thirteen years old, or so… ironic…. My mom scanned it for a my fortieth birthday card. She’s some kind of witch or something… I mean that in a good way.

The Epic Quest (Or My Life As A Bee In The Steel and Glass Garden)

city scape by Brian Raszka, Xfactor stencil was sent by CMIII
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spent the weeks and days mixing potions and notions in Venetian glass bottles where Jean Jeanie crickets once lived and the the small icecream cone of lead and lusterous jewels were stored. I waved my jazz hands and tapped three times with the torah reading stick of Elder and Larch and Low and behold the scream rainbow burst forth and landed on my members only and I became very large and then later very small where in I went into the earch beyond the shadow cave to a great rank garden and in the dirt there I found shiny rocks and precious metals. I believe these were treasures that Dennis Wilson had thrown off his yacht in drunken fits of paranoia. His ghost told me once: “No man is poor, if he has a half a million dollars in gold and silver sitting in the sand and choral beneath his yacht… you just dive down and retrieve you treasure… he never cam back, but who can blame him… on the other side, he was whole and the band was still together and brian and him wrote a whole album together called Silver Surfer, or something, but I digress. With the above mentioned treasures, I made a fetsh in the rank garden. I am casting my spell. A Wizard at work.
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Meanwhile, back in the real real world I am going to Tribecca food and wine walk and then back up the mountain to break bread in the Temple and dance the Horah and drink the wine and form a quarum around Noah who will build an arc some day.
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Orson Whales

This is more or less a birthday gift to myself. I’ve been drawing it on every page of Moby Dick (using two books to get both sides of each page) for months. The soundtrack is built from searching “moby dick” on You Tube (I was looking for Orson’s Preacher from the the John Huston film), I couldn’t find the preacer, but you find tons of Led Zep and drummers doing Bonzo and a little Orson reading from the Novel for a failed Italian T.V. film…… makes for a nice Melville in the end.

Cinqo de Mayo I turn Forty. Ahhhhhhh the French Champagne.

Another Green World


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Another vlog while I scan and scan. This remix has a lot of Goddard clips and a Brian Eno mash up. The drawing is a finish of a Carloine VK start from The Library Project. Stangely today Moby Dick came on TCM. I missed, however, Orson’s Sermon.