I'm just sayin' - Edwin Decker
"Bagged" (detail) - May-ling Martinez
(photo: May-ling Martinez)
I thought it apropos to have Edwin Decker, writer, performance artist, and homme extrordinaire, honor the virtual pages of Art as Authority - which he so graciously accepted to do - notably, for his award winning performance at the California Center for the Arts Escondido Performance Slam, and his text spoken that night, which can be found in its entirety below.
I am one of the very few who do not yet fully grasp the breadth of this man's talent, having just met him briefly that fateful night - well, actually we just smiled at each other as I mumbled a few congratulatory words to him, but, I was nonetheless impressed. Being impressed is not good enough however, so having an ulterior motivation is helpful, not necessary, but it makes me look clever.
I wanted to post Ed's piece for its humorous and satirical take on the "Innocence is Questionable" exhibit at the CCA, but also because it conveniently fell inline with my own sentiments - and I mean exactly. Besides, if you don't show up for the party that was planned and given in your honor - uh, that would be the artists in the exhibit - you never hear what good was said about you. It is unfortunate for them but great for Ed, and wonderful for us. Thanks Ed, stop by anytime. kf
HE name of this exhibit is, “Innocence is Questionable,” about which, the brochure says, “Ultimately, what each of these artists question is whether or not the folly of the world is the responsibility of man?”
It’s a synopsis which makes me wonder, how does a great artist illustrate the subjects he or she finds “questionable”?
I look at these paintings and I see the man-made uglies of this urban life made beautiful: The mall escalator, the casino, the toilet in the desert, even the depiction of Best Buy, so bounteous, and blue, and expansive that it becomes a planet unto itself; making me instantly understand that I need another flat screen TV – you know – for the bathroom.
And Raul Guerrero’s chorizo combo looks sooo yummy hanging up there. I imagine the lovely orange grease of it dripping down the wall and onto the floor and I wonder, how am I supposed to scorn the Americanization of this otherwise authentic combination plate when Guerrero makes it look so delicious!
And Starbucks never looked so inviting as it does in Jean Lowe’s, Empire Style.
As is her Longs Drug store so enchanting, that to gaze upon it is to suffer the urge to buy batteries and birth control.
And beige never looked so vivid as it does on that that Targ-Mart complex. The way she painted that strip mall made me want to jump into it and live there forever.
Speaking of leaping into the art, apparently, that’s a no-no around here. Not only is there no “leaping into the art” permitted, we’re not even allowed to touch the paintings.
For me, this is a problem. I have a tactile sensibility.
My first instinct, when I encounter something new, is to touch it.
Yeah, I’m that guy.
But at least, when it comes to art, I try to keep myself in check. And I’ve done a good job of it over the years… until a few weeks ago, when I came to the exhibit with Ted Washington, our fearless MC. I remember when I arrived and walked into the big, beautiful room with the big, beautiful paintings, the whole time holding back the urge to touch them with all the might in my might.
And then….
Something went hideously wrong.
I didn’t just touch the art … I walked on the art.
That’s right, in the Empire corner, where the whole room is the art (including the carpet), I stepped right onto the rug in the middle of the floor. . . . Stepped on it with the same nasty shoes that just got done stepping on the fluids and filth on the floorboard of Ted Washington’s car!
Lord only knows what art-corroding horrors live down there my friends!
When the security guard saw me standing on the art, she howled with mirth,
And the gallery shuddered on its foundation,
And the art gods vomited lightning,
And Jean Lowe herself, who was sitting at a Starbuck’s on Broadway, sipping a caramel mocha with a companion, clutched her hand to her chest.
“What’s wrong?” asked her companion
“I don’t know,” she said, “It feels like somebody is walking on the throw rug of my heart.”
Ok Look, I get it: don’t touch the art, don’t photograph the art, don’t breath on the art, don’t take the art off the wall, put it in the back of your car, and sell it on the black market to support your gambling habit – sure, I understand all that.
But I have to tell you, as an author, I find it interesting that such all-encompassing respect is ascribed to art and yet, as we saw in Bagged by May-Ling Martinez, it’s perfectly acceptable to tear the covers off books and rivet them to seat belts for our amusement.
I’m just sayin’.
Edwin Decker
From Edwin Decker's website: www.edwindecker.com Edwin Decker is a freelance writer and performance artist residing in San Diego. He regularly publishes articles in various newspapers and magazines in San Diego and around the country. His work has appeared in The San Diego Union Tribune, San Diego Reader, Modern Drunkard Magazine, Real Deal, Seattle Stranger, Tucson Weekly, Creative Loafing in Atlanta, Cleveland Scene, Exit Magazine, Smash, No Cover, Out of the Gutter, The National Pist (Canada) and his mothership magazine San Diego CityBeat.
Though a freelancer, it is in CityBeat where his column Sordid Tales runs every other week. Sordid Tales is a satiric and comical look at the world from the perspective of a veteran bartender. It is often irreverent, seedy, controversial, salacious and, of course, sordid.
His book Barzilla and Other Psalms, published by Puna Press, was nominated for a 2007 San Diego Book Award.
Comments
Edwin walked on the carpet?
HELL'S A-POPPIN!
Posted by: bob matheny | avril 29, 2008 11:18 AM