I saw the devil and he was dancing in my shoes
I saw the devil and he was making moves on you
He always knows just when I need him
He always knows just what to do
I saw the devil and he was breaking all the rules
Laughing with his friends and acting so damn cool
He was breaking all the rules and winning all the games
And leaving just in time to make you want him again
He was crawling on the ground and standing nice and proud
And knowing all the time he was the star of the crowd
He always knows just when I'm weakest
He always knows when to turn the screws
I saw the devil and he was trying to walk the line
I saw the devil and he moved in just in time
He always knows when you need some comfort
Whispers in your ear and tells you it's all through
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Feeling Psychedelic
Some who know me may ask "When are you not feeling psychedelic?" Well there are times when I do not feel the interlocking ebbing waves of oneness but that is not what this is about. I am talking about the music. I have been listening to a bit of psychedelic lately and thought I would share some thoughts.
My current resurgence started when I listened to a short documentary on Roky Erickson head man to the 13 Floor Elevators. Months later I was watching High Fidelity and realized the intro song was "You're Gonna Miss Me" by the 13th Floor Elevators. Check out Tommy Hall playing the electric jug.
I also recently discovered the Monks (Monks - Monk time) which hit my synchronicity spot.
These new old discoveries reminded me of how much I loved and was intrigued by underground Psychedelic music when I was younger. I had been interested in psychedelic music since I was a kid when I first heard 8 Miles High on a show about 60's music. I think this was the actual video I saw.
I tried, and failed, to emulate the intro solo many times. The Strawberry Alarm Clock grabbed me as well with Incense and Peppermints.
I had wanted to delve into more of the 60's original psychedelia so I asked my quite older brother Bob to make me a mixed tape. I was a little disappointed. Even though he grew up in the era of psychedelia and had a great feel for music, he didn't seem to provide me with what I was looking for. I wanted twangy guitars, colorful organ sounds and songs about Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and fairy tales. I think some of the bands like Strawberry Alarm clock were a little too poppy for him. I wish I had the tape. He might have put some stuff on there that I just wasn't ready to listen to yet. A few years later, at 15, I went to visit Bob in Bellingham, WA for a summer vacation of mountaineering, smoked salmon, hitchhiking adventures, general hippie activities and a musical education. He brought me to a record store downtown and encouraged me to get my first Jimi Hendrix album. The Jimi Hendrix Experience was the perfect mix. It had that pop psychedelic style to it but was concurrently blues that Bob respected immensely.
At the same time there was an 80's psychedelic revival going on referred to as the Paisley Underground. The 3 O'clock from LA was so nerdy cool and they were based right in my home town, as was the Redd Kross whom some of my friends claimed they hung out with along with some members of the Bangles.
As an adult Bob asked me a question so he could gauge my knowledge of the California 60's underground music scene. It was something like who was the best psychedelic band from LA or SoCal? Of course to answer anything else but Love would be foolish.
I discovered Love through The Damned, one of my favorite bands, who covered "Alone Again Or" in the late 80's. It then became popular to know about Love if you were in any type of cool/hipster/garage band.
When all is said and done I can beat anybodies psychedelic resume' save those who were actually in a kick ass psychedelic band. I don't care if you hung out with Redd Kross. I don't care if you were were the double for Davy Jones in an episode of the Monkeys. I don't care if you have a really cool blog called The Psychedelic Music Blog. I don't care if you followed the Dead around till they gave you a nick name. At 12 years old I was baptized by James Lowe, of the Electric Prunes in his pool in Chatsworth California. I regularly went to his home spun bible study and played with his kids. I now regret that I never got to hear him play the autoharp. Later I backslid to an early teen lifestyle of partying in Chatsworth Park just west of their house and just east of Charles Manson's old hide out at Spahn Ranch. The Electric Prunes - I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)
That's it. One more thing. If my buddy Chris from High School is reading this. You still have my Iron Butterfly album. It was a collectors item when I let you borrow it. It is even more valuable now. I hope you kept it in good shape and expect to see it sent to me shortly.
My current resurgence started when I listened to a short documentary on Roky Erickson head man to the 13 Floor Elevators. Months later I was watching High Fidelity and realized the intro song was "You're Gonna Miss Me" by the 13th Floor Elevators. Check out Tommy Hall playing the electric jug.
I also recently discovered the Monks (Monks - Monk time) which hit my synchronicity spot.
These new old discoveries reminded me of how much I loved and was intrigued by underground Psychedelic music when I was younger. I had been interested in psychedelic music since I was a kid when I first heard 8 Miles High on a show about 60's music. I think this was the actual video I saw.
I tried, and failed, to emulate the intro solo many times. The Strawberry Alarm Clock grabbed me as well with Incense and Peppermints.
I had wanted to delve into more of the 60's original psychedelia so I asked my quite older brother Bob to make me a mixed tape. I was a little disappointed. Even though he grew up in the era of psychedelia and had a great feel for music, he didn't seem to provide me with what I was looking for. I wanted twangy guitars, colorful organ sounds and songs about Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and fairy tales. I think some of the bands like Strawberry Alarm clock were a little too poppy for him. I wish I had the tape. He might have put some stuff on there that I just wasn't ready to listen to yet. A few years later, at 15, I went to visit Bob in Bellingham, WA for a summer vacation of mountaineering, smoked salmon, hitchhiking adventures, general hippie activities and a musical education. He brought me to a record store downtown and encouraged me to get my first Jimi Hendrix album. The Jimi Hendrix Experience was the perfect mix. It had that pop psychedelic style to it but was concurrently blues that Bob respected immensely.
At the same time there was an 80's psychedelic revival going on referred to as the Paisley Underground. The 3 O'clock from LA was so nerdy cool and they were based right in my home town, as was the Redd Kross whom some of my friends claimed they hung out with along with some members of the Bangles.
As an adult Bob asked me a question so he could gauge my knowledge of the California 60's underground music scene. It was something like who was the best psychedelic band from LA or SoCal? Of course to answer anything else but Love would be foolish.
I discovered Love through The Damned, one of my favorite bands, who covered "Alone Again Or" in the late 80's. It then became popular to know about Love if you were in any type of cool/hipster/garage band.
When all is said and done I can beat anybodies psychedelic resume' save those who were actually in a kick ass psychedelic band. I don't care if you hung out with Redd Kross. I don't care if you were were the double for Davy Jones in an episode of the Monkeys. I don't care if you have a really cool blog called The Psychedelic Music Blog. I don't care if you followed the Dead around till they gave you a nick name. At 12 years old I was baptized by James Lowe, of the Electric Prunes in his pool in Chatsworth California. I regularly went to his home spun bible study and played with his kids. I now regret that I never got to hear him play the autoharp. Later I backslid to an early teen lifestyle of partying in Chatsworth Park just west of their house and just east of Charles Manson's old hide out at Spahn Ranch. The Electric Prunes - I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)
That's it. One more thing. If my buddy Chris from High School is reading this. You still have my Iron Butterfly album. It was a collectors item when I let you borrow it. It is even more valuable now. I hope you kept it in good shape and expect to see it sent to me shortly.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Bus Drivers are Nice
Saturday I had to take the bus to a friends. I got on the wrong bus and ended up at the square at the end of the line. I asked the bus driver if she knew of any other CVS stores on the way since I knew that is where I was supposed to get off. She pointed to one in the square and said this is the only one. I described the store I was looking for and she asked me if I knew the street. Of course I didn't know the street as I do everything by instinct. I am like a finely tuned instrument that can intuit it's way threw the most treacherous of mazes. "Ummm ..." she said, "do you know the street." On the way back she drove slow and looked at all of the street signs I think she hoped that I would recognize the one I was looking for. Finally she said there was a CVS on the other line and she dropped me off. The next day I was waiting for the same bus and she came by driving another line. She stopped and stuck her head out the window and said, "On Sunday the 73 picks up upstairs". I said "Thanks, your the same one who helped me yesterday." Then she said, "Really? I'm usually not that nice."
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Peace
The other day someone mentioned to me that Japanese people in Florida are always flashing peace signs when ever their photo is taken. I was at work and I was asking people why this is the case and before I could even get the question out one of my American Chinese co-workers said and I paraphrase "You mean the ubiquitous Asian peace sign. We all do it." My Indian co-worker then said ... hey wait Indians are Asian too and we don't do it. Which was funny since she is always feigning offense when we forget that India is part of Asia. Any way I decided to do a little research and here is what I found.
The V sign might have arisen from inspirational and unflappable ice skater who performed in the 1972 Olympics at Sapporo. It indeed is not just Japanese (Asian peace sign Flickr set). I guess there is also the side ways gangster peace sign. Nuff said.
The V sign might have arisen from inspirational and unflappable ice skater who performed in the 1972 Olympics at Sapporo. It indeed is not just Japanese (Asian peace sign Flickr set). I guess there is also the side ways gangster peace sign. Nuff said.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Japanese Fairy Tales By Lafcadio Hearn, Grace James, Basil Hall Chamberlain
Japanese Fairy Tales By Lafcadio Hearn, Grace James, Basil Hall Chamberlain: "CHIN CHIN KOBAKAMA THE floor of a Japanese room is covered with beautiful thick soft mats of woven reeds They fit very closely together so that you can just slip a knife blade between them They are changed once every year and are kept very clean The Japanese never wear shoes in the house and do not use chairs or furniture such as English people use They sit sleep eat and sometimes even write upon the floor So the mats must be kept very clean indeed and Japanese children are taught just as soon as they can speak never to spoil or dirty the mats"
Friday, January 16, 2009
Helping the Blind (Synchronicity)
The other day I got off the Bus at Harvard station and walked with the disembarking crowd through the station center. We soon mixed with a counter current of passengers leaving the inbound Redline train. In the crowd there was a short dark haired young woman with a dark dog walking by and looking a little lost. As I past her she looked in my direction and I realized she was blind. She called me out and asked for my help. She wanted to be directed to the Dunkin Donuts located right across the concourse. I told her sure. I paused then went for her arm. Every other time I have gone to help a blind person they ask me to hold their elbow or they insert an arm into the crook of my elbow as if I was leading them into a lavish ball. As I touched her arm she stopped me and informed me that I could just walk in front of her dog to lead her to the line. I did so and she thanked me.
I went out to meet some friends last night for some drink in Davis Square and I asked if this was a common occurrence. It did not seem to be very common amongst this group. I took the bus home that night and was struck by a woman with a huge head of wild white hair and a very stylish preppy/alt/nerd red wool suite. She was very talkative to her companion who I soon realized was her assistant as she was blind. The apparent synchronicity occurring led me to think of past interactions.
A few months back I was to meet my friend Dana, again in Harvard Square, for some delicious Pinocchio’s pizza. I got off the T and my way was hindered by a not so small middle-aged woman who was also blind but without a dog. She called out for help and I was the only likely candidate within earshot. She asked me to escort her to Harvest restaurant where she was planning on meeting some friends. I was a little concerned since I was slightly late for my lunch meeting and I was starting to get a reputation of being a flake with Dana. But I knew I had no choice. I think you go to hell if you don’t help a blind person. I was also concerned, as I didn’t quite remember the best route to Harvest. She asked me to grab her elbow and I led her in the most efficient manner that I could and tried to come up with some small talk. Once I got to Brattle Street I ventured down a few false alleys with this poor misguided woman. I finally found the right path but it ended up they were doing construction behind the Brattle hall so I was trying to describe the precarious metallic walkway we were about to go over and explain away the alien noises and dust. I left her at Harvest where her friends who were waiting. I made it to Pinocchio’s where Dana was more then willing to forgive me for my tardiness.
Digging back further into my consciousness I remembered an intimidating man who frequently could be found in Westwood Village California. He was tall, pale and bald. He was also blind and would often cry out in the middle of the village … “Would someone help me?” I understand why people were reluctant to help. His manner was slightly alarming and his large body moved around awkwardly and somewhat aggressively. But I crossed the road to ask him what I could do. He asked for my arm and wanted be lead somewhere. I have to admit that it is always a little bit awkward to have a stranger grab your arm or to grab a stranger’s arm and lead them threw a public square. Despite his loud voice and threatening appearance his personality was ultimately very disarming. His shoes were never tied but as I was walking with him people would tell him that they were untied. He would flatly explain to those concerned that he bought them that way. I have continued to use that line as I am constantly found with untied shoelaces. I saw him a few more times while I was taking my Village breaks from my studies at UCLA.
My ultimate experience assisting a blind person has to be that with my high school history teacher Mr. Robert Acosta. He was a very attentive instructor and despite his handicap did a fairly good job at maintaining order. Students seemed to respect him. My older sister had Mr. Acosta for three years and said he was the only teacher who really cared. She was often late and she told me she remembers him saying repeatedly, “Mendy, sit down!” as he recognized the sound of her clunky late seventies shoes enter the room. I was not the best student in high school and was barely passing his class. He presented a challenge to me. If I get a B on his final and I would get a B in the class. To quell cheating in his class, which we all swore was not an issue; he performed his final by open book oral exam one by one in front of the class. I studied hard for the exam. On the day of the exam I listened with interest to the students who came before me. I felt that I could have made a good showing had I been given any of the questions the prior students had been given. After several students it was my turn and I bombed. I could not answer any of the questions and as I leafed futilely threw my notes. It seemed like all of the good questions were gone and only the most obscure left.
I was in bad shape. I might not pass history. A few days later Mr. Acosta asked if anyone would like to help him by driving him to a meeting downtown on Saturday for extra credit. I volunteered immediately. Based on some hindsight googling I gather that I might have been bringing him to American Council of the Blind meeting but I am not sure. I borrowed my moms red Ford Mercury hatch back which I thought would perfectly fit him and his German Shepard. I later crashed that car but that is another story. I folded down the back seat to give his dog plenty of room in the back. I arrived at his place and met his wife. As we started to leave he asked if I could give his wife, who was also blind, a ride. I didn’t respond because I was trying to work out in my head how to explain that the seat was down. Mr. Acosta said “Sure you can” so I mumbled something and ran to the car to fold up the seat just as his wife found the car door and was climbing into that back. Mr. Acosta stepped into my front seat and his dog fit easily between his legs. I was relieved but felt bad that I didn’t seem more welcoming to his wife.
The day was nice. The meeting was in one of those woody red-chaired early 70’s LA restaurants that served things like burgers and Monte Cristo sandwichs. I talked to one member of the group who was into some cool music and that made me feel like less of the odd man out. On the way home I put on some old ventures surf music and Mr. Acosta new the words to all the standards that the Ventures had turned into instrumentals. I was glad that he appreciated my music. He told the class on the following Monday that I had great taste in music, gave me the extra credit and I passed his class.
Going back even further I remember my mom volunteering with the blind when I was very young. She was very appreciative of their talents and the ways they compensated for their lack of vision. One day she showed me a mosaic of an owl that one of the women she worked with created. It looked like an owl and my mom was very impressed and was excited to share this with me.
So I wonder. Does is it that once you encounter a particular type of person then they regularly make reappearances? Are we trained for the possible interactions we will have in the future. Probably not. Most of these instances could be explained away as artifacts of awareness. Is awareness a synchronicity generator or is synchronicity an artifice of awareness. Either way it is nice to help people out and be connected one other way to the human experience.
I went out to meet some friends last night for some drink in Davis Square and I asked if this was a common occurrence. It did not seem to be very common amongst this group. I took the bus home that night and was struck by a woman with a huge head of wild white hair and a very stylish preppy/alt/nerd red wool suite. She was very talkative to her companion who I soon realized was her assistant as she was blind. The apparent synchronicity occurring led me to think of past interactions.
A few months back I was to meet my friend Dana, again in Harvard Square, for some delicious Pinocchio’s pizza. I got off the T and my way was hindered by a not so small middle-aged woman who was also blind but without a dog. She called out for help and I was the only likely candidate within earshot. She asked me to escort her to Harvest restaurant where she was planning on meeting some friends. I was a little concerned since I was slightly late for my lunch meeting and I was starting to get a reputation of being a flake with Dana. But I knew I had no choice. I think you go to hell if you don’t help a blind person. I was also concerned, as I didn’t quite remember the best route to Harvest. She asked me to grab her elbow and I led her in the most efficient manner that I could and tried to come up with some small talk. Once I got to Brattle Street I ventured down a few false alleys with this poor misguided woman. I finally found the right path but it ended up they were doing construction behind the Brattle hall so I was trying to describe the precarious metallic walkway we were about to go over and explain away the alien noises and dust. I left her at Harvest where her friends who were waiting. I made it to Pinocchio’s where Dana was more then willing to forgive me for my tardiness.
Digging back further into my consciousness I remembered an intimidating man who frequently could be found in Westwood Village California. He was tall, pale and bald. He was also blind and would often cry out in the middle of the village … “Would someone help me?” I understand why people were reluctant to help. His manner was slightly alarming and his large body moved around awkwardly and somewhat aggressively. But I crossed the road to ask him what I could do. He asked for my arm and wanted be lead somewhere. I have to admit that it is always a little bit awkward to have a stranger grab your arm or to grab a stranger’s arm and lead them threw a public square. Despite his loud voice and threatening appearance his personality was ultimately very disarming. His shoes were never tied but as I was walking with him people would tell him that they were untied. He would flatly explain to those concerned that he bought them that way. I have continued to use that line as I am constantly found with untied shoelaces. I saw him a few more times while I was taking my Village breaks from my studies at UCLA.
My ultimate experience assisting a blind person has to be that with my high school history teacher Mr. Robert Acosta. He was a very attentive instructor and despite his handicap did a fairly good job at maintaining order. Students seemed to respect him. My older sister had Mr. Acosta for three years and said he was the only teacher who really cared. She was often late and she told me she remembers him saying repeatedly, “Mendy, sit down!” as he recognized the sound of her clunky late seventies shoes enter the room. I was not the best student in high school and was barely passing his class. He presented a challenge to me. If I get a B on his final and I would get a B in the class. To quell cheating in his class, which we all swore was not an issue; he performed his final by open book oral exam one by one in front of the class. I studied hard for the exam. On the day of the exam I listened with interest to the students who came before me. I felt that I could have made a good showing had I been given any of the questions the prior students had been given. After several students it was my turn and I bombed. I could not answer any of the questions and as I leafed futilely threw my notes. It seemed like all of the good questions were gone and only the most obscure left.
I was in bad shape. I might not pass history. A few days later Mr. Acosta asked if anyone would like to help him by driving him to a meeting downtown on Saturday for extra credit. I volunteered immediately. Based on some hindsight googling I gather that I might have been bringing him to American Council of the Blind meeting but I am not sure. I borrowed my moms red Ford Mercury hatch back which I thought would perfectly fit him and his German Shepard. I later crashed that car but that is another story. I folded down the back seat to give his dog plenty of room in the back. I arrived at his place and met his wife. As we started to leave he asked if I could give his wife, who was also blind, a ride. I didn’t respond because I was trying to work out in my head how to explain that the seat was down. Mr. Acosta said “Sure you can” so I mumbled something and ran to the car to fold up the seat just as his wife found the car door and was climbing into that back. Mr. Acosta stepped into my front seat and his dog fit easily between his legs. I was relieved but felt bad that I didn’t seem more welcoming to his wife.
The day was nice. The meeting was in one of those woody red-chaired early 70’s LA restaurants that served things like burgers and Monte Cristo sandwichs. I talked to one member of the group who was into some cool music and that made me feel like less of the odd man out. On the way home I put on some old ventures surf music and Mr. Acosta new the words to all the standards that the Ventures had turned into instrumentals. I was glad that he appreciated my music. He told the class on the following Monday that I had great taste in music, gave me the extra credit and I passed his class.
Going back even further I remember my mom volunteering with the blind when I was very young. She was very appreciative of their talents and the ways they compensated for their lack of vision. One day she showed me a mosaic of an owl that one of the women she worked with created. It looked like an owl and my mom was very impressed and was excited to share this with me.
So I wonder. Does is it that once you encounter a particular type of person then they regularly make reappearances? Are we trained for the possible interactions we will have in the future. Probably not. Most of these instances could be explained away as artifacts of awareness. Is awareness a synchronicity generator or is synchronicity an artifice of awareness. Either way it is nice to help people out and be connected one other way to the human experience.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Shepard Fairey Around Boston
Shepard Fairey is coming to the ICA in Feburary (Shepard Fairey: Supply and Demand) and the ICA set up some approved areas for him to post his work (Radical chic Shepard Fairey posters Harvard Square). I thought it would be a fun project to go around the greater Boston area and take a look at all the spaces.
I work in Central Square so I decided to check out the graffiti wall near Central Kitchen on one of my lunch breaks. I could not tell what was his and I had no camera so I decided to come back on the weekend after I had had a chance to see the Harvard Square site.
On Saturday I got on the T to do some graffiti (Street Art) hunting. I thought it would be fun to take Granger, the best English Lab in the world, on the T. I got half way there and I remembered Big G's stair phobia. He might not make it up the stairs once he got down. I hoped there were elevators. Granger paused at the stairs at Alewife and skittered a little on the tile floors. Once we got on the train he did great and got some attention from passengers. There were Elevators at Harvard so he was fine.
The first space I came to was at the Massachusetts Ave / Brattle St / JFK St intersection on the walled off store front of what was previously The Greenhouse. The Greenhouse was a great little dive with really good fries and chocolate cookies. I don't know why they closed it down and why nothing has replaced it. Around the corner at the wall outside of the Gap and the basement of The Tannery is the second Harvard Square entry. I really liked this piece.
There was a blues duo in the square. Two older guys. One doing some nice guitar work and the other had a classic blues voice and played the harmonica. I called my friend CJ back in LA to share the musical joy. The high pitched harmonica was the only thing that made it past my cell phone speaker.
After that G and I walked down towards Central Square. We passed the Harvard Lampoon building on the way there and I was happy to see it decorated as a pumpkin for Halloween.
Nothing seemed particularly Shepard 
Fairey but there was some really cool stuff there. All central square visitors should stop and take a look at the graffiti wall.
There was a little bit of a struggle to find a stair case with the proper lighting and width (He doesn't like closed dark spaces) to keep Granger from being spooked. Once he got past the T security doors he was pretty calm and got on the train with no problem. At Alewife he was happy to take the elevator up and all went well.
The next weekend I ran down pretty close to sunset with Pam to Union Square to see the display there. I was not that familiar with the square so it took awhile to find it and we had to wander a bit to get our bearings. Pam noticed a comic book store and suggested we ask them. Props for her keen eye. I asked the girl behind the counter if she knew where the Shepard Fairey street art was displayed and she kind've looked at me cross eyed. Then I showed her the clip out of the Pheonix (See Above) and asked where the Boutique Grand was. She knew exactly what I was talking about and pointed us in the right direction. By the time I got there the sun was pretty low and I was worried about the quality of the photo. When I went to take the picture I realized that the battery in the camera was dead. No biggie. I should come back when the sun is higher anyway.
The next Saturday I was determined to get all of the remaining sites captured. Granger jumped in the back of the Mazda and we went on our trek. I first went back to Union Square and took a picture of the little girl holding a hand grenade rose. Provocative, No? I like all of the images of flowers with weapons. Of course it reminds me of the famous image from the 1967 March on the Pentagon. All of his subjects seem very unconscious of the message they are sending.
There was no convenient place to tie Granger off so I skillfully to took the picture while simultaneously holding his leash.
Next I went down to Montgomery Street in the South End. As always is the case in the South End or anywhere in Boston proper it was challenging to find 
parking and I had no idea where on Montgomery Street it would be. Finally after circling the neighborhood a half dozen times I stole a residents only spot in front of the school on M Street. I assumed the display would be on some concrete wall near this urban looking area. I took Granger out of the hatchback and started to look around. There was no street art to be seen in this area so I walked west towards the town homes. The street looked quite nice with the fall colors. The poster space was at the end of the street. When I got there a couple was putting there child into their car and seemed slightly curios as to why I was standing outside of their townhouse.
This poster was a combination of The Tannery and Union Square displays.
Coming back to my car I was happy to see that there was no ticket and no one had taken particular offense to me taking a private spot.
Next stop was the International Bicycle Center in Alston. As I was traveling down Brighton Ave. I found an open spot but there was someone double parked just in front of the space. I waited to see if he was going to take it but eventually assumed that they were not interested. I started into the spot and suddenly the car started moving aggressively into the space. After he parked I felt bad so I pulled up next to the driver to apologize for appearing to steel his spot. He misinterpreted my intentions and gave me the evil eye. I motioned for him to roll down his window and he started to but then waved me off. I found a spot two cars behind him and lingered with Granger a little to see if the offended parker would walk my way but he never surfaced. Was I looking for trouble or some imagined restitution with this stranger. I guess I felt bad thinking that he would be pissed off all day thinking he was hassled by another, in this case imaginary, obnoxious Boston driver.
Just as I got to the International Bicycle Center a couple arrived to look at the display. The guy kept trying to take a picture of the poster unpolluted buy his girlfriends attempts to obtain his attention. Every time he would tell her to get out of the way she would move and then jump back into the frame with a whimsical little dance and pose. Finally he got his picture or just accepted his lot in life and left the wall for me to photograph. You can sneak a peak of the pair on the left.
All in all a great way to spend a couple of weekend days. If you want to see all of the pictures and download larger size images see my photo stream on Flikr.
Oh and this is my desk top as of Dia de los Muertos.
Addendum: schmeeeb found this at Harvard. http://tontowasgreen.posterous.com/shepard-fairey-art-in-harvard-square
I work in Central Square so I decided to check out the graffiti wall near Central Kitchen on one of my lunch breaks. I could not tell what was his and I had no camera so I decided to come back on the weekend after I had had a chance to see the Harvard Square site.
On Saturday I got on the T to do some graffiti (Street Art) hunting. I thought it would be fun to take Granger, the best English Lab in the world, on the T. I got half way there and I remembered Big G's stair phobia. He might not make it up the stairs once he got down. I hoped there were elevators. Granger paused at the stairs at Alewife and skittered a little on the tile floors. Once we got on the train he did great and got some attention from passengers. There were Elevators at Harvard so he was fine.
The first space I came to was at the Massachusetts Ave / Brattle St / JFK St intersection on the walled off store front of what was previously The Greenhouse. The Greenhouse was a great little dive with really good fries and chocolate cookies. I don't know why they closed it down and why nothing has replaced it. Around the corner at the wall outside of the Gap and the basement of The Tannery is the second Harvard Square entry. I really liked this piece.
There was a blues duo in the square. Two older guys. One doing some nice guitar work and the other had a classic blues voice and played the harmonica. I called my friend CJ back in LA to share the musical joy. The high pitched harmonica was the only thing that made it past my cell phone speaker.
After that G and I walked down towards Central Square. We passed the Harvard Lampoon building on the way there and I was happy to see it decorated as a pumpkin for Halloween.
Nothing seemed particularly Shepard Fairey but there was some really cool stuff there. All central square visitors should stop and take a look at the graffiti wall.There was a little bit of a struggle to find a stair case with the proper lighting and width (He doesn't like closed dark spaces) to keep Granger from being spooked. Once he got past the T security doors he was pretty calm and got on the train with no problem. At Alewife he was happy to take the elevator up and all went well.
The next weekend I ran down pretty close to sunset with Pam to Union Square to see the display there. I was not that familiar with the square so it took awhile to find it and we had to wander a bit to get our bearings. Pam noticed a comic book store and suggested we ask them. Props for her keen eye. I asked the girl behind the counter if she knew where the Shepard Fairey street art was displayed and she kind've looked at me cross eyed. Then I showed her the clip out of the Pheonix (See Above) and asked where the Boutique Grand was. She knew exactly what I was talking about and pointed us in the right direction. By the time I got there the sun was pretty low and I was worried about the quality of the photo. When I went to take the picture I realized that the battery in the camera was dead. No biggie. I should come back when the sun is higher anyway.
The next Saturday I was determined to get all of the remaining sites captured. Granger jumped in the back of the Mazda and we went on our trek. I first went back to Union Square and took a picture of the little girl holding a hand grenade rose. Provocative, No? I like all of the images of flowers with weapons. Of course it reminds me of the famous image from the 1967 March on the Pentagon. All of his subjects seem very unconscious of the message they are sending.
There was no convenient place to tie Granger off so I skillfully to took the picture while simultaneously holding his leash.
Next I went down to Montgomery Street in the South End. As always is the case in the South End or anywhere in Boston proper it was challenging to find parking and I had no idea where on Montgomery Street it would be. Finally after circling the neighborhood a half dozen times I stole a residents only spot in front of the school on M Street. I assumed the display would be on some concrete wall near this urban looking area. I took Granger out of the hatchback and started to look around. There was no street art to be seen in this area so I walked west towards the town homes. The street looked quite nice with the fall colors. The poster space was at the end of the street. When I got there a couple was putting there child into their car and seemed slightly curios as to why I was standing outside of their townhouse.This poster was a combination of The Tannery and Union Square displays.
Coming back to my car I was happy to see that there was no ticket and no one had taken particular offense to me taking a private spot.Next stop was the International Bicycle Center in Alston. As I was traveling down Brighton Ave. I found an open spot but there was someone double parked just in front of the space. I waited to see if he was going to take it but eventually assumed that they were not interested. I started into the spot and suddenly the car started moving aggressively into the space. After he parked I felt bad so I pulled up next to the driver to apologize for appearing to steel his spot. He misinterpreted my intentions and gave me the evil eye. I motioned for him to roll down his window and he started to but then waved me off. I found a spot two cars behind him and lingered with Granger a little to see if the offended parker would walk my way but he never surfaced. Was I looking for trouble or some imagined restitution with this stranger. I guess I felt bad thinking that he would be pissed off all day thinking he was hassled by another, in this case imaginary, obnoxious Boston driver.
Just as I got to the International Bicycle Center a couple arrived to look at the display. The guy kept trying to take a picture of the poster unpolluted buy his girlfriends attempts to obtain his attention. Every time he would tell her to get out of the way she would move and then jump back into the frame with a whimsical little dance and pose. Finally he got his picture or just accepted his lot in life and left the wall for me to photograph. You can sneak a peak of the pair on the left.
All in all a great way to spend a couple of weekend days. If you want to see all of the pictures and download larger size images see my photo stream on Flikr.Oh and this is my desk top as of Dia de los Muertos.
Addendum: schmeeeb found this at Harvard. http://tontowasgreen.posterous.com/shepard-fairey-art-in-harvard-square
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
