Category Archives: Zipperhead

Cali Asi NIsi Masa

by

Finally doing the telling of the taling of asi in cali that blake whitman shot for me at the Disposable film festival

 

Sometimes it takes me four years to sit on a thing

may take a year to finish the egg now that it’s hatching.

Grey Valentine

by

When I made the couch video there were two versions: one with Jim Dine’s poem that I eventually released and this one combining some Zipperhead whiteboard animations using this song I wrote with Natalie.  Finally got around to uploading the alternate take for Valentine’s day.  My ex referred tot he song as :  caterwalling,  but I still like it and want to recored it properly some day.

Samson and Delilah

by

Delilah came and danced as I tried to shake the building down…. or atleast finish the whiteboard animation as best as I can. Actually she was a new face to open mics… a tremendous voice, with tremendous stories and obviously tremendous hair. Later she sang Sam Phillips beneath the BQE acapella and you couldn’t even hear the trucks. Some pipes!

Artist's Wanted

by

I am the son of an abstract painter and graphic designer from Basel, Switzerland and an actress/fiber artist teacher from Long Island. I have always felt that I have one foot in the old world and one in the new. In some very real way my work and life have been an attempt to make a synthesis of the dialectic that is my parents both as people and artists.

I made my first film in the fifth grade and won several national festival awards by high school. I had planned on going to NYU film school, or something when I accidentally discovered writing (a perverse combination of screenplays, Paris, and Hemmingway by way of High School English).. Writing seemed so much cheaper than film and you didn’t have to get all messed up with actors. I spent the better part of five years trying to finish my first novel, “Heroes.” Those characters still live on in some of my projects (though the novel never did get published).

At Brown U., I started to feel that writing was removing my brain from my body and when I started to paint, I fell in love with it, .even though it was a thing my father had quit quite dramatically in my youth. For me, Painting seemed to live between the act of writing and the act of filmmaking and maybe even the act of acting, or at least dancing. It seemed like neutral territory… like Switzerland.

I have spent the better part of the new century trying to make these phases of my life into something of a coherent artistic practice… a new sort of multimedia authorship. I mean to say I want to tell stories. I have managed to get several great platforms in which to experiment: It In Space So Ho, IT IN place (A.I.R at the Institute for the Future of the Book), A.I.R. 17 Frost Street Space. But after spring I am homeless. My dog died, my woman threw me out. It sounds like a joke, or a country song, but

Which Starts Out As A Kiss….

by

I was sitting on the toilet yesterday trying to pass something that didn’t feel like excrement so much as an angry snarling black dog – a demon wolf, or a great angry sadness called despair. I reached in back of me for the scroll off paper on the tank and found instead The Oultaw Bible of American Poetry. I opened it up to this Jim Carrol poem for Kurt Cobain. Rather than read it, I washed myself and went into the Hobbit House had Dave crank up the P.A. and read the poem aloud to Natalie and Foxy Lady. So what you hear is the first time I ever read this poem. Forgive me the screw ups… I’m going to try to read it again at open mics on Sunday… and I may keep changing this as the Zipperhead animations come on line. This is only a mash up test.