I'd like you to come to my party if you're not too busy picking dead leaves off stuff in your garden

So I'm in this art show called Corpus Exuberis with my friends in Pangloss Gravitron at the Emmanuel Gallery in Denver. The show will be up for almost two months, so we decided to have a party there this Thursday (August 15),  just because. It'll be sort of like a second opening. Or a pre-closing.  I'm proud to say the show is pretty darn good and worth seeing all on its own, yet I'd much rather have you come see it while I'm there.

But here's the thing: I wasn't going to tell you about this party. I was hoping you'd hear about it from somebody really cool, or read about it in WestWord, and that would make you want to join us. Then just today I was talking with Meagen, who's also in the show, and she admitted she hasn't been telling people either, out of a similar over-cautiousness about burning her friends out with too many event requests. So here we are just hoping people will somehow get the idea that our party is the happening place to be, but we're not promoting it because no one wants to be a burden to their friends. You see, I know your inbox is jammed up with a lot of requests to attend cool events by cool people all over town. I know this because I'm on a lot of the same lists that you are, and my Facebook calendar is overflowing with "maybes."  But I've just recently realized the "maybe" box mostly gets checked by friends who really have no intention of coming to your event. These people genuinely like you, and support your efforts, and they want you to know that. But they're not coming. They're picking dead leaves off their tomato plants, because that's another thing that really has to get done.

Let's all just admit we're a little burned out by the flood of social media event requests. I'm glad I get them. It's good to know what's going on, and at the last minute I might just like to show up to that barbecue fundraiser at that guy's house down in Castle Rock who I only met once. But in the meantime, I'm trying to take it easy on my own friends, so much so that it turns out I haven't sent one email out to my list this year. Not one. I'm afraid my hesitance to add to the social noise has distanced me somewhat from the people who are genuinely interested in what I've been up to. It's tricky stuff, navigating the intricacies of social etiquette with such a blunt and invasive technology. But now I'm putting it out there. This is the show I'd like you to come see. It's in two days. A whole bunch of your friends will probably be there. Plus, even if you came to the opening there will be some surprises. Meagen now has an audio component to her installation, I've added a hacked Talking View-Master to the show, and Tracy has made much progress towards the completion of her live painting "Tracing Grace."

Tracy will also demonstrate and invite others to test the effects of the prototypes built in support of "Grace's Law" (above) in the back courtyard of Emmanuel Gallery.  Documentation of levels of exuberance before, during, and after use will continue throughout the night. Plus we'll have live tunes by Amber Hamilton and Beer provided by Cannonball Creek Brewing Company.

Details are Here. Please join us if you're not doing some other thing.

Trail Etiquette

Every Sunday, the multi-use trails in Colorado are clogged with all sorts of weekend adventurers, from bird watchers to horseback riders, and each group simply tolerates the others. Horseback riders don't much like dog walkers. Fly-fishers and bird watchers dislike anyone who talks. And everyone wishes the mountain bikers were on some other course, including all the mountain bikers. Over the years I've flirted with membership in most of these tribes (except fly-fishing), and I can vouch that each has it's own rationale for why it should own the right of way, yet somehow we all manage to share the trails, and sometimes even a couple of beers back at the parking lot.

Because I hike all over the state, often by myself, I've made a lot of amateur psychographic observations about these user groups. In terms of general sociability, horseback riders rank up at the top. They are way chattier and kinder-spirited than all other trail users. Possibly this is because the horse is doing all the work, leaving riders free to socialize. The more physically demanding sports like mountain biking are at the anti-social end of the scale. But I give bikers a pass on the friendliness test, since most of them are riding at the extreme edge of their own abilities (regardless of skill level) and therefore are just barely in control of what they are doing. They've got both eyes glued to a spot about three feet ahead of their front tire, and may not even notice that you've pasted yourself uncomfortably against a rock wall in order to let them by. They rarely say hello, but they always thank you if they notice you scurrying off the trail to get out of their way.

By far, the most anti-social group I've ever encountered are the trail runners. I'm talking the "elite athlete" kind. The wild-eyed, sweat-glazed, barely-dressed men and women training for Iron Man type competitions. The kind that don't wear earbuds because they stopped needing workout mixes years ago. You might wonder how many of these people there can be out there. Well, I can tell you that their numbers are way over-represented in and around Boulder on any given Sunday.

I've tried trail running a few times and know it is grueling and that the last thing you need is to keep running into people and dogs and kids shambling around ahead of you on the trail, especially the chatty inattentive ones. Trail runners are focused on staying in the zone, which means keeping their heart-rates up and their brains basted in endorphins, all the while dodging roots and rocks. It's serious business. The "thousand yard stare" on their faces isn't the same kind you use on a city street when you pass a stranger but feel obliged not to interact, instead pretending there is something impossibly interesting just up ahead. The trail runner stare is ghostly and unselfconscious. If these athletes pass you without responding to your "good morning," and it makes you feel crappy and invisible, it isn't personal. The "F-U" they seem to radiate isn't for you specifically. Far from it, they are just trying to be alone, while going fast, in public, and you are simply an obstacle.

Usually when you meet someone on a trail there's a neutral moment of interpersonal positioning where each of you has to quickly decide whether or not to say hello. First you smile. If the other person smiles back, you're safe to venture a "good morning" or a simple "hey there." Whoever is more outgoing or socially dominant usually makes this move first. It's not a conversation. It's simply a kind way of acknowledging the other person, putting them at ease, and letting them know you think they're okay. Even dogs do it. When dogs meet on the trail, one will often raise its tail and begin wagging. Seeing this signal, the other dog will do the same (if all goes well). Even if they pass each other quickly with little subsequent interaction, the message was sent, received, and responded to in-kind. A simple dog hello.

After the first couple of trail runners passed me today without returning my morning salutations, I decided to do a little experiment. I greeted each person I met in exactly the same way. I looked them in the eye and simply said hello, in a friendly, but not unctuous manner. Even if they passed me from behind I did this. Then I inventoried the reactions. 14 of 20 trail runners did not respond. The six who did were surprisingly enthusiastic. I passed an additional 11 hikers, all responded in-kind. I even lucked out and saw three horseback riders, and as if to prove my point, all three launched into some story about seeing a bear cross the highway way up ahead and how one of the horses stopped in its tracks and refused to go any further so they had to turn around and ride this here trail we were on and did I know where it came out…? 

At the end of the day, my gripe about trail etiquette may be entirely inconsequential. I know this. I know it's everybody's right to not reciprocate social niceties, and to practice one's chosen sport interaction-free. If that's your choice, hooray for you. But I can't help thinking that each infinitesimal act of kindness (or its inverse) has to amount to something bigger. The same way the moon's pull on individual water molecules is immeasurable, but add up a few quadrillion, and you've got a tide.

On the way to the trailhead this morning some guy was tailgating me. I was going 52 in a 50 mph zone, so I figured he should pass me or just back off. Finally I stuck my arm out the window and waved him back with as much force as I could put into the gesture. It worked. He dropped back 3 car lengths, then 5, then 10. A few minutes later when I turned into the South Mesa Trail parking lot I noticed him take the turn also. As he got out of his car I made a mental note of what he looked like. Bald 40-ish white guy. Backpack. Hiking alone. Inevitably, an hour later we came upon each other from two separate trails that intersected. I gave him a wave. The friendly kind this time. He stuck his hand up in response. His wave said "sorry I tailgated you," mine said "no worries dude." His wave quickly added, "Enjoy your hike." Mine seconded, "You too." Our waves did all this in about one second, without aid of spoken language, and with neither of us breaking stride. I was already enjoying my hike, but just then it got a little bit better. Enough that I could feel the difference.

Break It To Make It

Hacked and modded Talking View-Master.

In the world of "Hacks & Mods," my efforts are rather unsophisticated. In case these words haven't made an appearance on your buzz-word radar yet, they refer to the practice of hacking, modifying, and sometimes "circuit bending" existing electronic hardware (usually off-the-shelf consumer stuff) in attempt to improve, or completely change the intended use of an item. While most of the hack & mod crowd are weekend hobbyists and seekers of whiz-bang novelty, there is a strident political stance to the efforts of many of the more advanced and experimental practitioners. You don't have to poke around their sites for very long before you notice a certain "anti-establishment" tone to a lot of the posts. Hacks are shared freely in an deliberate attempt to undermine the corporate control of technology and to democratize the re-engineered results. These folks believe strongly in freeing up technology and giving creative control to the little guy. Never mind most of us little guys wouldn't know what to do with that creative control. Program a Roomba to fetch a martini?  

Somewhere along this continuum between science fair tinkerers and revolutionary super nerds, you'll find a growing crowd of artists who practice hacking and modding. My own projects have centered on store-bought toys that were "re-imagined" or commandeered for alternative uses. This sort of re-contextualizing of objects is an extension of the kind of thinking that goes into my paintings. A couple of years ago I did a piece for Dana Cain's Love Show that involved a talking plush toy that I modded to read Craigslist "Missed Connections" in a monotone computer voice to gallery visitors.

Lonesome Bear reads Craigslist personals to gallery visitors

My latest project involves an old Talking View-Master that I found in a junk shop on Colfax. It came with a set of reels, which included a 3-D tour of the first Apollo moon landing in 1969. To my delight, when I got home I discovered it still works. Each Talking View-Master reel comes with a tiny clear plastic record attached, which spins at 78 RPM, containing a separate recorded message for each of the slides on the reel. When the user presses a button, a stylus engages the record, and the message plays over a tinny speaker inside the viewer.

 Record is clear so that light may pass through to slides.

I had this thing for over a year before it occurred to me that I should punk it. I began to imagine the bland 70's audio narration set to a spacey dub track. So I began trying to figure out how to digitize the sound on the little records, then "re-mix" it with a hi quality stereo audio track, and finally get it back onto the Talking View-Master. The thing was going to need a digital audio player, some decent headphones, and a reengineered front panel. The result is what you see here.

Before and after

I hollowed out the View-Master of all it's unnecessary hardware, this included the motor, stylus and speaker assembly. When modding, you often have to decide whether or not to permanently disable a feature or function in order to accommodate some new use. This decision can sometimes border on the philosophical, like whether or not to spray-paint some sad old piece of furniture that came down through your family. In my case, I needed room inside the View-Master to embed a digital audio player, some circuitry for the headphones and a charging mechanism. This meant my lovely 40 year old toy would lose much of its pure vintage charm, and all of its antique value. Fortunately, you can still find Talking View-Masters on Ebay. And for those of you lucky enough to already have one, its value just increased by some infinitesimal amount since I just removed mine from the available pool of functioning antique toys! So be it.

This tweaked View-Master now joins the suite of space exploration-related artworks that I've been creating over the past several years. It will be available for playing at the Pangloss Gravitron party at Emmanuel Gallery on August 15th, and during the Artist's Talk on August 29th.

If you don't make it to the show, here is a link to the audio remix I did of the View-Master moon-landing narration. Enjoy.