Tag Archives: art

Drive-by Pride

New York shouted a collective “hurray” for human rights and put on its best Sunday chaps. Of course, sale I feel personally responsible for making the whole thing come about. After all, see we instituted F@g Day on June 14th. Then I gave $20 to a young man in the park collecting funds to bring about the vote, patient in order to do penance for using the word “F@g”. At least I think he was collecting funds to bring about the vote. He had a clipboard. Personal responsibility is what really rings the changes. Plus I am a sucker for a clipboard.

After such a great labor of activism, I felt I had a right to be proud. And I, too, suffer for the cause. I had a date with a very attractive lady last week and she canceled, due to a cold. I had to attend several art openings all by myself. I was even invited to a fete! If you do not bring a date to a fete, surely there are negative social consequences. Alas, you cannot tell the sufferings of others until you have tried walking a mile in their highly stylish footwear. So it has been quite the emotional whirlybird. And here I would like to put in a good word for Everest Hall, painter and all around fancy gentleman.

His show is at DCKT through July 23rd.

Not really being a parade person, I celebrated pride by going to see Midnight in Paris and ogling Marion Cotillard. One other thing that I will say about this very special film, is that finally I have found an antidote to the hopeless feelings I have attached to the pursuit of an art career ever since watching “the Extras”. Really.

Anyway, we are done feeling proud and can heartily return to our bitter march toward oblivion, hastened by the guilt and self-recrimination that so becomes us. Or perhaps I should go home and watch Cabaret again. Tomorrow belongs to ME.

Cookie cookie cookie

Over the years, we have truly forgotten the roots of our tender innocence, our eager, good nature and desire to please. We were a wee tadpole chatting up old ladies in the park. We have struggled, and suffered, often voluntarily. Oh the things we have done to our hair and put in our mouths. We have shaken our puny fist at the heavens and screamed “Why me? Why *anything*?” Maybe it is moving back to the general neighborhood where I grew up and seeing friends from small times, but it’s all coming back to me. (Cue the Morrissey) Used to be a sweet boy!

I have quite a few things to be happy about at the moment. Showing work on the LES (opening is tonight at Dacia), at the Fountain Exhibit, and in the wilds of Bushwick to be determined. I moved into a slightly bigger studio, which is very conducive not only to painting and building things, but to sitting in an actual chair, having a cigarillo and a chat. I am still hemorrhaging rent money on the empty space but I can leave off caring about it for one measly week and buy myself a 4G, can’t I? Of course I can. Thanks, left shoulder demon!

I don’t always feel like I am doing what I am meant to be doing. Like when I am at work while the muse is alive, or when I am pulling something particularly nasty out of the bathtub drain. I am an artist! But today “c” is definitely for “cookie” and that’s good enough for me.

Along comes reality, goodbye to space

Our nascent year is proving very eventful.  Why, I have received 12 text messages in the last 3 minutes alone!  Sometimes you just wish people would stop communicating with you. Up until the moment they actually do.  

I got a half dozen separate emails today from some lady with questions about the available studio (do emails have twitter-style word limits now?) and I patiently provided the information, before she asks me if it is ok if she has a dog in there.  UH.  I picture a little, sausage-shaped body waggling and sniffling around AROO AROO AROO, its chubby nose on the edge of my pallette, rose madder paw prints.  I don’t know if that is ok, because no sane human being has ever asked. 

But there is more going on than doggy applicants to my studio.  I have a new roommate.  She is a hairdresser, so maybe we can turn our place into the Beauty Bar, home edition.  I showed up to be an extra in a music video by someone I befriended through my roommate ad.  I have 2 shows upcoming, which I am very excited about, but do not yet have details.  I also have a headache.  My “to-do list” has gone from an inky scrap, to a lengthy scroll.  

I know it is obnoxious to complain about being busy.  But I want to be busy doing what I love- smearing paint around, writing fake Morrissey tunes (“The Last One In Is the First One Down”), being “extra”, gluing things to other things for humorous effect.  Not fielding inquiries from Ms. Thick and her hellhound. Or staring at my pager, hoping that it will not go off so that I have to work this weekend. Certainly not working.

But I soldier on in inspired fashion, just having learned that the Jersey’s Shore’s mannish whorelet JWOWW actually studied art in college.  And, laugh till your milk comes out of your nose if you will, but her work was entirely competent.  I certainly never produced any still life that orderly while I was in school.  She must also be clairvoyant, having the forethought to throw a pink elephant in there.

(Photo totally cribbed from Gawker, my source in all things Jersey Shore)

We’re still here

Whoa. *Blinks* After we retired from professional blogging in 2005, we decided to find our true calling. We’d grown tired of the endless public scrutiny. How many E! specials does one need, anyway?

People have opinions

So we worked up a good head of steam and stumbled into the time machine, and after things stopped spinning and blinking, we chanted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated! And off to work we went. Might as well see what it’s like to earn an honest living.

It turns out we are not cut out for honest living. So we set the time machine for Atlantic City in the early aughts.

This turned out to be a bad, bad idea. We got into a makeup application fight, which led to a slap fight, and Lambchop pointed out just how deformed my face is in photos. So we split up, which involved a team of doctors from the Mayo Clinic, and we tried alternate pursuits.

Lambchop sought employ as a lingerie Scrabble model.

I set out on a tramp steamer, as I have always been fond of sailors.

Lambchop’s modeling career was thwarted by the Communists at Hasbro. She retreated to her thinking grotto and fasted for minutes before seizing upon the perfect answer: service to the Lord!


Needless to say, this didn’t last. Then someone foolishly entrusted me with an au pair position. Turns out those little human critters bite! They can’t even talk!

But we couldn’t stay away from each other, considering that legally we are conjoined twins.

We agreed to meet for book club in our favorite makeshift chamber of horrors.

The dumpster has a false bottom, very sly. Lollies were shared, confetti and cookies were tossed.

So we’re tanned, rested, and ready, swanning around the makeshift chamber of horrors, and we await a redemptive David Letterman appearance. Call us, bb. I can’t believe you fell for our carefully choreographed absence! You didn’t believe we’d really WORK, did you?

We’re also blogging about the sordid lives of BEDBUGS over at www.nixbedbugs.com! And shockingly, that bit is true. It was either that or play Farmville professionally.

State of Our Union

Yes people, it is time once again, that we follow the trend of our great nation, in taking stock, sizing up matters, glossing over failures and completely manufacturing successes. I feel the first mistake I made today was putting too much pepper in my soup. Now my forehead is dewy with sweat. But let us not be weighted down by the details, they are but stray tears in an ocean of pain. Here is our scorecard:


Licketysplit: blaring Skinny Puppy in her pajamas, making rude gestures at the Speakerphone.

lambchop: has broken the previous employment record of six months by holding a job for a full year and six months. Please send me a loaded gun.


Licketysplit: Married almost as long as I have had a job. Thinks about it pretty much the same way.

lambchop: currently a polygamist. Laws are for suckers!


Licketysplit: I think she is hiding some in the root cellar.

lambchop: not on your life.

There have been some small changes- Helen has begun writing her memoirs. She is currently on the chapter wherein she discovers the effectiveness of arrogance as a contraceptive method. I got a fat raise and we have a new roommate. This fine Indian fellow plays the sitar, tabla, and harmonium. He races cars and plans to cook us up some first rate curries. Unlike our last roommate, who made penises out of duct tape. Really huge ones.

I have really been getting a bang out of my deepening friendship with Echo. We draw together, and pretend we are turning into mice under the supper table. There is nothing quite like being loved by a brilliant and charming six year old. It is not like owning a rabbit, or eating pad thai. Even if it is really delicious.

On the flip side, I have an internet stalker. Hi Anonymous! Anonymous leaves its slime trail everywhere. Wherever a feeble coward is facing the dog’s dinner of their life, anonymous rises to shake a puny fist of pale opinions and ill-formed slurs at their betters. We pity you, anonymous, but please don’t stay to dinner.

I am pointing at the map and looking for a place to open my studio. Somewhere with high ceilings, subways, and rambly old neighborhoods. Where I can get paid to doodle on the corner of a pad of paper. Where speaking one’s mind is not an affront. A place where public drunkenness is funded by the state. Where troubles melt like lemondrops away above the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me. New York, Barcelona, Belgrade? Where is such manna to be found? Where would one see taste, intelligence and ability, so united in its populace? Well of course there is no such place, but some towns are more artist friendly than others. I am brushing up on my Maltese, just in case.


Rouge Rising Star

Last week’s entertainment brought us to the opening the very talented Scarlet Harlot, our own Julie Lohnes, at the Chase Gallery on Newbury Street. I lay on the pink velvet, I walked barefoot on the installation. Miss Lohnes, like me, delves into the Secret Life of Women. This work will seduce you with pinks and fleshy colored wax that beckons with sultry, amorphic forms. Something revolting is at the same time revealed to us in the presence of so much pink crushed velvet, like the cheap evening gown of a stripper, upon whose pillowy softness you are invited to tread. This work approaches tackiness and beauty with such care that they are not to be extricated from one another. The luxury here is inevitably louche and mysterious.

Straight up our alley!

We celebrated with Red Splendour martinis, made of pomegranate and vodka. They made my mouth sticky.


P.S. It’s funny when cats fall down and attack children.

Tick Tock Goes the Clock

I am mooning over this typewriter. It’s only 11:04 (I know, shop because I am playing “Shout out the time!”) and I am soulless and sullen already.

I ran into a former professor on the train today and had to feel automatically sheepish for having a job. Because I want to be Somebody. I feel like I should go win a Guggenheim or something. There are even some of you out there reading this that surely find it amusing that I have a job at all, sovaldi never mind one that does not involve me being spanked. In the art game being unemployed is called ambition.

I did finish a painting last night and it wants to kick your a$$.

In today’s afterschool special, I am finally meeting my Little Sister. I hope I can impress an eight year old- she might actually be bigger than me!


Guten Tag, Berlin

For your viewing pleasure here in the Vomitorium, treat this is one of my newer paintings. I have sold it to the Ladengalerie in Berlin for the next exhibition in 2005. So if you want to see it, tadalafil get on a plane to Tegel. I promised the Kids in Germany that I would report to them once a week-ish in a language they can understand. Humorless and efficient? No, German!

Ich bit seit einer Woche wieder hier in Boston und wollte sagen das es richtig schön war, wieder bei Euch zu sein, auch wenn nur kurz. Es läuft prima bei dem neuen Job- das Büro is wahnsinnig cool, viel feiner und hübscher als das alte (Ich habe einen neuen windows xp mit einem flachem LCD Bildschirm- geil, wahr?). Ich habe auch schon angefangen einen Galerie hier zu suchen für die Ausstellung 2005 und werde berichten wenn was davon geworden ist. Mein Zimmer ensteht noch eine Explosion aus dem Gepäck. Ich habe zu viel zu tun gehabt, um mich darum kümmern zu können. Zwei Wörter: David Bowie.

Unter dieser Meldung kann man auf Comments klicken und nachrichten lassen. Also, ihr könnten meine viele Fehler beim schreiben merken oder mir einfach sagen wie toll ich bin!

Bis Bald!

The Man Without A Past

I finally got to see Aki Kaurismäki’s last film, and it was just as weird and gripping and lacking in emotional display as you expect from a Finn.

I, too, am erasing my past. Bringing some more of my things back to America. It’s all crap anyway. Closing the door on old relationships. Buying new shoes and planning for an exhibiton in 2005.

Everything is changing and crazy, but it’s ok. It’s about what you expect from your lambchop. Tomorrow I will take some photos of my new work in the gallery. It’s already been purchased, expressly for the 2005 exhibition, Kampf Bilder.

Frau In Exile

Some of you have been asking “where in the H-E-double-hockeysticks is Lambchop?” The answer is Maui, of course. In an evening gown. Like Tina Louise.

For those of you who prefer reality, and some of you actually purport to, I am still hackiliciously ill. I almost took a day off work. My pal Stu offered to drive me in, however, and so I put on my fur hat and 12 degrees below zero sure does interesting things. We were off to a merry start, breathing thick plumes of vapor and fiddling with the radio, but the joke was on us. We had a FLAT. I did finally make it, thanks to the umcomplaining speed with which Stu changed the tire. It is possible to get through a situation like that without ranting a vile stream of oaths. Who knew?

I worked two hours of overtime just so I could get a complimentary taxi ride home.

Unfortunately, there went my ride to go see my friend’s gallery opening in New Haven. My old pal Chris Mir is among my favorite living painters. Plus, he is really hot, which everyone should be if they can help it. I will fill you in when This Charming Man opens again in New York.

Aside from my adventure yesterday, I have been keeping to my room, because when I laugh, I am bent over in a coughing fit and its getting a bit too urchin-y. So I will emerge at some point, swan-like and breathing velvet. See you then!