Dark coffee, light vexation...

Maintaining the right mix of darkness and light for your soul is an essential part of any good transcendental hygiene regimen. Johnny Cash, Jesus Christ, Joe Coleman. Layers of black, beams of white light. Get it right!

You make art happen...

The more I live the more I'm convinced that art is a reflection of the consumer, not the producer. We fetishize/project all kinds of things onto creators, and I'm down with that as a phenomenon. I often find the artist more interesting than their art. When it comes to leaning on the artist for extracting a meaning, I generally call foul. I'm not saying that artists' intentions are unimportant, I'm saying that one's experience with an artwork is ultimately more personal than code cracking.

Most art is meaningless to me and I'm ok with that. I'm not really interested in contextualizing at this stage. Too cerebral, too distracting, a quagmire I'd rather avoid. The stuff that stronks my neurons gets absorbed, and the stuff that successfully ignites two or more chakras gets my allegiance. The stuff that arrests me in my tracks, that hijacks and derails my own inner art show, well that's really what it's all about now isn't it...

(Adam Eckberg)

Medium is the massage...

The state of beige is a little frightening. But you know what? That's just the initial non-shock of it. When your world has been all scarlets and aubergines well, that tan tonality might just seem a little empty. Really though, it is its inherent neutrality, its medium grade, that makes beige the perfect canvas color on which to paint a life. That something can be ordinary and extraordinary at the same time is worth remembering. The extremes have (had) their place, and one can grow to find comfort in their drama, but the calm mediums, the relaxed schemas, are where the real action takes place. In other words, when your insides are a swirling samovar of psychedelia the material world doesn't stand a chance. Come to think of it, I've always liked the combination of tan red and black. I suppose there's some B.L. Montgomery in me ready for a campaign in the beige desert.