I gots a flickr account.

For my shadows. And other things.

Please visit.

I’m calling this guy “Zeus”. He is mighty good at wearing pants.

Making shadows on a regular basis is a lesson in lack of restraint.  These things emerge from my cutting without much mental oversight.  I guess that’s the creative process.  The best part is figuring out which sections will be capable of moving.  After I had seen Zeus’s head, it was clear that he needed broad shoulders and muscular arms that could rise and fall like a scale.  The bolt of lightning in his hand was an unexpected gift from the design I carved into his pant leg.  He was created using my fancy new tool, an X-ACTO Knife with a blade that can swivel:

Meet the girls.

Yesterday I adopted two juvenile Leopard Geckos.

They haven’t told me their names yet:

Arts Corps Student Showcase 2008.

My students rocked the event. You can get a hint from these shots:

What we always suspected about our shadows.

Shadows is people!

Found this on Tuberoo (itself a cool discovery). Resolution is pretty bad.

I, like the audience, am especially mesmerized by the first few steps and the dribbling.

Everybody’s so excited at the end!

And you thought it was a holiday.

It’s a horror day, folks, a horror day.

Thanks, Joe, you make good art and your friends post good things on your MySpace.

Total abstinence from all things harmful.

As I mentioned before, my friend Theodore’s mother was an active member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, which still exists. In fact, he was very likely a white ribbon baby: committed before birth by his mother to never touch the drink (lot of good that did!). We found some old cassettes of her reciting poems and singing, and I was able to transcribe enough to track down the lyrics to one of her cautionary tunes, which goes by the title “Drunkard’s Child”.

VERSE 1
My Daddy is a drunkard
My Mother she is dead
I am jest an’ orphant child
No place to lay my head
All thru this world, I wandered
They drive me from their door
Someday I’ll find a welcome
In Heaven’s golden shore

VERSE 2
Now, if to me you listen
I’ll tell ya story sad
How drinkin’ rum an’ gamblin’ Hell
Stoled away my Dad
My Mother is in Heaven
Where God an’ angels smile
An’ I know that she is watchin’
Over lonely orphant child

VERSE 3
We were all once’t so happy
An’ had happy home
Till Daddy started to drinkin’
An’ then he gambled some
He left my darlin’ Mother
She died with a broken heart
An’ as I tell my story

VERSE 4
Don’t weep for me an’ Mother
Altho’ I know it’s sad
But try an’ get someone
To cheer my dear old Dad
I’m awful tired an’ hungry
She closed her eyes an’ sigh
An’ those who heerd her story
Knew the orphant child had died

Listen to RealAudio of the song.

You can find different variations on the same theme here and here.

Eye candy.

I finally have an excuse for waiting to get contact lenses.

I’ve been waiting for this:

The yes-it’s-finally-happening bionic contact lens, created, wouldn’t you know, by University of Washington researchers.

I want to pause for a second and appreciate the fact that within the last year two pieces of technology from my personal fantasies (and copious sources in science fiction) are becoming a feasible reality. In addition to being able to play video games or read our e-mail on our corneas, we will also be able to go invisible (my Halloween costume four years ago? The Invisible Man). Read about that here.

Reluctant props must be given to Northwest Cable News, who I nearly loathe, for breaking this story in my world–although Technology Review is two months ahead.

You’ve heard of bathroom humor.

Say “Hello” to bathroom ideology.

I heart Zizek.

An unusual friendship.

Between a robot and a panda.

Joe Vollan is a local artist. His work is being shown at Derby Salon, curated by Thom Johnson, a guy I used to pack boxes of produce with.

I plan to attend. You should also.

Cautionary tales/tails for your Tuesday.

Oh Prohibition, it was sooooo hilarious.

Not if your mother told you cautionary tales about orphans who froze because their fathers were drunks! “Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine,” she might declare.

So it was for my good friend Theodore French, World War II and Temperance Movement veteran. I couldn’t track down any of the verses he recited from memory, however I found a great book taken from the work of Hilaire Belloc, rediscovered and illustrated by Edward Gorey. Here is an example of what it contains:

And if you want to read one of the poems in full, click.

In related artistic news, I traipsed around Pioneer Square for First Thursdays on March 6 and found this brilliant and belligerent exhibition by Howard Barlow entiteld Safe and Sound (thanks, PUNCH). The best piece was “Cautionary Tails” made with bullets and a hacksaw (my photo):

Find Barlow’s website here.