Bill Ayers: A Call to Teach

I'd like a president to know "radicals" like Ayers.

Still/Hear 1

As cheesy and cliche as some of these records seem now, each of these seven inches--an anachronism if there ever was one--defined the landscape of hardcore punk for me and my closest friends in the early 90s. They're part of me, and through them I found my voice and a way to define and describe my values outside of the confines of white suburban California.

Writing With Light

Joshua Peach is a good friend whose photographs keep evolving--aesthetically and emotionally. Like a lot of friends, I wish he wasn't so far away, but these photos keep him at least a little bit closer.

Art as Protest

"[Merz] is an idea about how the artist takes the deconstructed world--the world that has been emptied of all meaning by commercialization--and makes something of the rubble."
Bill T. Jones in Plazm 14, 1996



This 1970 image from the Art Workers Coalition begs the 2008 question, What would we see now?



During the first intifada, images of Palestinian children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks struck me like nothing else I'd ever seen. The indecency of the bullets fired upon those kids and the US funding for those tanks drove home the gross inequity of militarism and state power.



ACT UP's early campaigns--mass 'die-in' demonstrations, bloody handprints on the headquarters of big pharma--were both visually arresting and inspiring.



Robbie Conal's "Contra Cocaine" posters appeared all over greater LA the summer of the Ollie North hearings and seemed like one a logical extension of the agit-prop collages of Winston Smith and Gee Vaucher.



Finally, the photo China doesn't want you to see. With the start of this year's Olympics in Beijing, I can think of no greater way to celebrate the spirit of resistance than to reproduce this image.

(All images culled from the net.)

Amplifier Worship ))) Boris: 8/2/08

Kiss Alive is a lackluster offering from the masters of unadulterated Id, but it does have one of the greatest covers in all of rock and roll.



Boris bears almost no resemblance to the Motor City madmen. They drift seamlessly between glacial-paced drone and ear-splitting psychadelia, Stooges-inspired garage stomps and dirges that seem to split time in the grand tradition of Funkadelic's 'Maggot Brain'...all at a volume that begins at 11.



Perhaps more than anything else, Boris exercise--or exorcise--the power of that cover. Eardrums be damned.

Pattern. Texture. Color.

[Top to bottom: three trees in Tuolumne, chard with ginger, turmeric, and coriander, lotus flower in Kuai, Sierra shooting star]

Earth: 6/20/08

Dylan Carson and Earth makes the music that Ozzy's children should play. He has climbed inside the cone of an amp is looking out at the rest of us from within. Not so much within a note, but a tone. It's more than the sound of a hesher buried to his neck in molasses, trying to play the opening riff of 'Fairies Wear Boots'. He's reaching for something further out there; further than Sunn; further than darkness at the edge of town.