Chicago at Christmas Time.

With all this snow, I don't know what to do with myself. My boots are leaking, making three pairs of socks soaked by the time I step into the nightmare I call "clothing retail in downtown Chicago mass produced by women who are shop-a-holics and shouldn't be spending that kind of money with economy, where in the hell do you get the money anyways" work. Although, that was the best run-on sentence I have wrote this year. I need something to keep me warm! The zipper on my coat splits every time I step onto the bus. A quick fix is needed, although I have no solutions. I called my mother, she was no help. I don't have the money or the time to fix it. My sewing machine is no where to be found. I have to wear a dress to work today that is missing the bottom hem. I forgot to fix it before I moved, oops. I am lost in a misty sea of finding a record that I am almost positive does not exist. It would make the perfect Christmas gift. People driving in this weather makes my stomach turn along with the smell of cinnamon. I can not fathom why I still do the things I do on a daily basis. I wish I could take more days off then I can afford to see more people back in the OH. This is all becoming too familiar to me, why is there not an exchange here yet? I need something more than what I bargained for.

Screening at The Nightingale in Wicker Park

Light is Waiting
Originally uploaded by Tracing Is Fun

Nightingale Theater
1084 N. Milwaukee Ave.
Chicago,IL
www.nightingaletheatre.org

December 6th, 7pm

Curators: Sasha Samochina, Danielle Kramer
Contact:
Address: 2539 W. Altgeld, #3 East / Chicago, IL 60647
Phone: 253-279-3593 (sasha); 330-354-1454 (danielle)
Email: cloudshasha@gmail.com; dkramer1@gmail.com

Basic Info:
Title: Youthful Perspectives: Obsessions, Obstacles, and Growing Up Pop
Description:
This collection of work explores the experience of growing up engulfed in television and music culture. The imprint is sometimes subliminal, blurring the boundaries of reality in our memories and stories. We identify, communicate, and express with bits of digested media. Advertisements that our childhood sponge-like minds have absorbed float in and out as we daydream. Many consciously collect in an attempt to recreate these memories, feeding the longing of nostalgia fed by years of media culture. We chose these pieces for their exploration into these media memories, examining how they shape our ideas and identities, helping us discover who we are, and sometimes who we are not.


Identity Crisis (1990, 3:00, DVD) -- Mindy Faber
Seven-year-old Kendra plays dress-up to act out ten stereotypical female personas introduced by simple names handwritten on title cards. Perpetuated through movies, television and music, labels like Southern Bell, Smart Lady, and Movie Star are easily assumed by Kendra at such an early age. The outtakes quickly reveal her true complexity beyond these cookie-cutter identities as she rebels against performing and being primped for these conventional roles.

Ballet Suit (2006, 3:11, DVD) -- Sasha Samochina
Sasha Samochina revisits her trunk of childhood memories of ballet, birthday parties and pop star admiration.

9 Minutes of Kaunaus (2007, 6:30, DVD) -- Dani Leventhal
Dani Leventhal chats with young Domas Darguzs in a Lithuanian synagogue as he shares amazing tales of what he is learning in school. Stories of his brother serving as an Israeli soldier become infused with fantastic encounters as his imagination blurs the boundaries of fiction and reality.

Transitional Objects (2000, 19:00, DVD) Jennifer Montgomery
"Begun as a consideration of the upgrading from manual to digital film editing techniques, Transitional Objects explores the anxiety and loss inevitable in such a transition while also suggesting the consequences of other life transitions. The video takes its title from D.W. Winnicott's theory of children's use of transitional objects to negotiate the gaps between internal reality and the shared reality of people and things."
-Carl Bogner, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee

Target (1999, 8:30, DVD) -- Animal Charm
A man with a fully bandaged face drives aimlessly through a shopping center parking lot while Carol King plays a sad song on the radio. Recycled imagery of television advertisements, family portraits and animal footage switch channels in a wandering daydream as this mysterious movie scene drives on without a Target.

Lullaby (1999, 18:00, DVD) -- Jennifer Reeder
“Driven to the beat of Madonna's song Lucky Star, modified from its original pop rhythm to a lethargically slow pace, Lullaby explores the hopes and dreams of a teenage Jennifer Reeder as she develops into adulthood. Using actual diary entries from her teenage journal, intermixed with excerpts from the writings of Judy Blume - staple reading for most young girls coming of age in the early 1980s to the present - the artist places her youthful desires and inspirations in text, as well as visual, form on the screen.”
-- John D. Spiak

A Love Story Part 1 & 2 (3:20, DVD) -- Kali Heitholt
Screen printed images of Bob Dylan flash across the screen to recreate the nostalgia of a memory through repetitious excerpts of song.

Light is Waiting (2007, 11:00, DVD) -- Michael Robinson
“A very special episode of television's Full House devours itself from the inside out, excavating a hypnotic nightmare of a culture lost at sea. Tropes of video art and family entertainment face off in a luminous orgy neither can survive.”
--Michael Robinson

Formats Screened: DVD
Projection Staff: Christy LeMaster

Atmosphere: casual
Speakers: Sasha Samochina & Danielle Kramer
Introduction: Sasha Samochina & Danielle Kramer
Program Notes: Provided by Curators

Sunrise

sunrise
Originally uploaded by Tracing Is Fun

I was granted a window seat for once, and all the times I have spent between two large bodies in quiet discomfort was worth the break through the clouds as we rose above the thick blanket. Below was gray and gloom, but what a gift it was for those beyond the Cumulus ground. The moment we broke through the clouds, the sun snapped from the horizon with bands of white, yellow and blue light a bursting ball of proud yellow fire. This moment was more than a scene, it was an action in time produced by the movement of the earth around the sun and us around the earth. It lasted but a few seconds, but it filled me and I sat with my head against the window for a while, watching the white cotton candy stand surprisingly still below us. Holes began to break to reveal the patchwork of geometric farmland below. A dirty gust of gray air moved in to soil the view of the yellow morning sun until we were enveloped with a layer of Nimbostratus and the moment was done.

I wonder who else had noticed?

another video

a video

an experimental video i made, quality is not very good. lost all my HD info somewhere.

some sketches...

Telluride Film Festival: Case Study

Nestled in a box canyon in the southwest corner of the Rocky Mountains, the Telluride Film Festival has peacefully resided for the last thirty-five years . Know for its secrecy, every year the program list is withheld until the first evening of the festival, avoiding the frenzied hype many other festivals are known for. The entire event is packed into one long weekend, full of films, parties, panel discussions, workshops and tributes . The festival is an opportunity for enjoyment rather than competition. There are no awards or prizes; only salutes and appreciations. Attendees come in good faith in place of with business. This quiet mountainside celebration is a breath of fresh air for many festival-goers in the industry .

The audience of over 2,000 is comprised of interns, volunteers, and anyone else willing to drop $500-$2500 per pass . Out of fairness, there are no free rides for press. The festival is open to all with equal opportunity. This year over seventy celebrities made the pilgrimage to Telluride. Eager film students find themselves moseying to the next screening alongside world-renowned filmmakers also enjoying the laid-back celebrations and clean mountain air Telluride has to offer . This relaxed atmosphere and casual celebrity approachability have been eminent to the gathering since its genesis. In 1974, Michael Webb of The Washington Post, recalling the excitement of dramatic guests, including Gloria Swanson, Francis Ford Coppola and Leni Riefenstahl, wrote “The best thing about Telluride were the moments of easy contact with the famous and knowledgeable in the heady mountain air. ” It is clear that this festival as celebration rather than celebrity has always been an essential part of the mission to set the Telluride Film Festival apart from the hustle and bustle well known to its sister cinematic gatherings.

The program screens anything and everything, premiering new films for discovery, hosting tributes to the greats, and programming shows that revive yesterday’s films sometimes too soon forgotten . Guest directors give the program a new feel every year. Anthony Kaufman in Filmmaker writes of when guest director Peter Sellars “shaped the 1999 program with several older experimental works .” The rediscovery of bygone films not only serves the as an ode to the past, but also sets an historical context by which to view the selections of films of today.

The festival reviews feature lengths and shorts, Hollywood and Independent, combing the world for its best and brightest new stars. Mr. Busy of Sight and Sound praises Telluride’s audience for being “film literate,” talking about films in a way that is different from the critics and cinephiles. They neither talk up an art film because it is an art film, nor dismiss a mainstream film because it is mainstream . No matter who came first, the festival or the audience, Telluride’s selections are well received year after year by viewers hungry for the films caught by a wide net of programming that considers all possibilities born into the cinematic world.





Bibliography

Busy, Mr. “Venice, Berlin and Cannes are dead. Long live…Telluride,” Sight and Sound, ns13 no11 N 2003.

Heller, Sarah A., “In a Box (Canyon) and on a Line: The 32nd Telluride Film Festival, September 2-5, 2005,” Senses of Cinema, November 2005, http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/festivals/06/38/telluride2005.html (accessed October 28, 2008).

Kaufman, Anthony, “Telluride Film Festival,” Filmmaker, Fall 1999, http://www.filmmakermagazine.com/fall1999/fests.php#top (accessed October 28, 2008).

Langdon, Matt, “The Telluride Film Festival,” Filmmaker, Oct. 14, 1996, http://www.filmmakermagazine.com/archives/online_features/telluride96.php (accessed October 28, 2008).

Phillips, Rob, “Why Women Rule: 34th Telluride Film Festival, 31 August – 3 September 2007,” Senses of Cinema, http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/festivals/08/46/telluride-ff-2007.html (accessed October 28, 2008).

Telluride Film Festival, National Film Preserve, Ltd, http://telluridefilmfestival.org/show (accessed October 28, 2008).

A Call to All Filmmakers

Now requesting short film and video entries for "Youthful Perspectives: An exploration of nostalgia and imagination." We are looking for shorts that may convey the "essence of youth" by revisiting a notion of childhood or teenage years, catering to the imagination and memories many adults have left behind. All genres welcome. Films will be part of a group show presented by the class of Programming and Curating Film and Video at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, to be screened early December.

Contact Danielle N. Kramer with any questions at dnkramer1@gmail.com

Please send a screener copy of submissions by November 14th to:

Danielle Kramer
C/O Amy Beste
Department of Film, Video & New Media
The School of the Art Institute of Chicago
112 S. Michigan Ave.
Chicago, IL 60603
p: 312-345-9184

Dani Leventhal at the Gene Siskel Film Center

The program notes drew me in for Dani Leventhal’s Draft 9 (2003), Show and Tell in the Land of Milk and Honey (2007), 9 Minutes of Kaunaus (2007), Picnic (2006), and 3 Parts for Today (2007), presented as part of the series Conversations at the Edge. Reports of various random images under the description “astonishing video diaries” prepared me for the possibilities ahead. I took my seat, waiting to see how “skinned animals” and “romantic liaisons” would play out .
Camera shaking, sound cracking, Leventhal interacting from behind the camera, the video was eerily similar to old family home videos. The content quickly revealed itself to break well beyond traditionally comfortable family boundaries. There is an intimacy felt so deeply by the viewer as Leventhal captures the raw, human emotion gifted by her family and friends, all well aware of the camera, yet treating it as an extension of Dani, their daughter, their grandchild, their lover. Moments of awareness of being filmed drift in occasionally, but remain honest in their own right. Leventhal asks her grandfather for his picture. He senses her concentration through the viewfinder as she captures his tattoo that tells the tale of his survival. We feel her shifting discomfort as he calls her out on her transparent cover of just wanting a picture.
Animals loving, breeding, injured and in death, spliced with intimate portraits of Leventhal’s closest relationships, remind us of our own fragility in body and mind. Leventhal methodically skins the dead, ripping and pulling and tearing with dirty fingers. We sense the resistance of the thick coat of the heavy deer carcass, and know the amount of pressure it takes to pop out an eyeball from its socket. We think of our own. We watch as a broken bird gasps for breath, dying all alone, and we think of our own. We peer through the reeds as swans perform their sacred mating dance, copulate, then separate. We reflect upon these animals, this family, Dani, and ponder on what it is to be human, through happiness and suffering, in pain and in death.
Leventhal stated that in contrary to the description in the program notes, she does not consider her shorts to be video diaries. If they were diaries, they would be private, for her alone . I dare to ask, what more could be hidden when seemingly all had been revealed?

It's all the same, Two Days, Two Weeks......

In just two days, Bernie Mac and Issac Hayes have seen the white light coming from the wand; the inevitable spell, Avada Kedavra, has caught two more. In better words, they fell off the red wagon. [too soon?]

In just two days, I packed up all my stuff , minus some clothes and thing in use. I've been hanging blankets and sheets around the boxes, acting like I am still 10 years old. Forts are the coolest, bro!

In just two weeks, I will be working my last shift at the Exchange in Elyria. Moving on to open the Exchange in Chicago. I will be saying goodbye to old friends, and hello to new ones.

How sentimental of me?

In other news, those darn veg'ans are taking over. I was browsing through newspaper ads at work and noticed that Giant Eagle had vegetarian delectables on sale. 'Buy one get one free' the sign said, 'Just in time for those last summer cookouts and Holidays.' Needless to say, I used my jagged boxcutter to trim the small ad out, and hung it up on the bulletin board in back. I'm going to miss having to explain what veganism actually means. I like it when people get confused. 'What are you some weird pagan or something,' is what someone actually said to me once. Why yes sir, yes I am. And proud of it.

Stay Cool Kids.

igotbored

igotbored
Originally uploaded by lonesomeohio

i got bored this evening and decided to brush up on my illustrator skills. i am going to be teaching/tutoring illustrator and photoshop in the fall so in my idle time i am going to try to work on it. figured i'd share it. nothing amazing but hey, got start somewhere.

6 days

i recently drove across country to move to my new digs to complete my masters degree. on this trip i also began a television journey that i had no idea would effect me as closely as it did. it's been a long time since i've felt a connection to a television show, this one really wrapped me up. like any other series on dvd it's a slow go at the beginning. but quickly i caught on to the subtleties and inside jokes of the family i was starting to feel a part of. the balanced perspectives allowed me to put myself in their shoes, each character within their own story line. on a micro scale the various people on the show are essentially dealing with the issues that all americans do. resistance to and fear of, death. only because the funeral home is the real central character does deatha also play a sort of satirical role, proving that death while obviously fatal can also be humorous. just like everything else in life, there's sad and happy, amazing and depressing. i've kept a vague stance within my writing so far because i don't want to give away any part of the story. the series that i finished in about 6 days was six feet under. i know, i know it's pretty late. about 3 years late. i knew that i would get totally into it so i've been waiting for the right time. and recently was for sure the right time. it felt like watching a really long, really enjoyable movie. i urge all of you guys to watch it. it was for sure the best time i have ever devoted to television. it also has undoubtedly the most poingant ending of a series i have ever been witness to. everything ends.

There's no extra in the Exchange.

The Exchange signed the lease for the new store located at (Give or take a few 10's):

1560 N. Milwaukee
Chicago, IL 60622

Wicker Park Area; South of W. North Ave (or so says the paper in front of me).

That's approximately 1.7 miles or 6 minutes driving for Danielle and Aaron; You know I am mainly putting this up here for you, and my thoughts as well.

Being the obsessive compulsive person I am, I Google Mapped the street view and let's just say, I ain't' complaining.

Antithesis

Making a book on anxiety since it is so prevalent in my life nowadays.

One Cent Life

(fig. 1) Sam Francis, pages 104-105. Color

 lithograph on paper, (1 Cent Life), 1964.

 The explosive energy of Sam Francis’s primary

 color showers the ground of Walasse Ting’s poem

 Black Stone.

In 1964, artist and poet Walasse Ting published a pioneering illustrated book of poetry entitled One Cent Life, which brought together artists of divergent approaches and backgrounds, many of whom would soon dominate the contemporary art scene. Twenty-eight artists illustrated the pages of the volume with sixty-two original lithographs, working with Ting to harmoniously meld western artistic movements, from Abstract Expressionism to American Pop Art, with the poet's eastern-infused English verse.[i] Ryerson Library holds a copy of the regular edition (number 1348 in an edition of 2000), which features a hand-printed cover by participating artists Pierre Alechinsky and Roy Lichtenstein. One hundred special editions were also released on handmade paper and signed by individual artists.[ii]

In many ways the book reflects Ting's circuitous artistic trajectory. Born in China in 1929, he traveled to Paris in 1952, where he met Alechinsky and the founders of the CoBrA group, Karl Appel and Asger Jorn. In 1956 Ting settled in New York City and befriended the Abstract Expressionist artist Sam Francis and two emerging Pop artists, Claus Oldenburg, and Tom Wesselmann.[iii] Such global explorations and the discovery of creative counterparts inspired him to publish a book encompassing diverse artistic movements and artists from around the western world. Ting began this undertaking by writing the poems that would later be illustrated by fellow artists in One Cent Life.[iv] He recounted the genesis of the compilation:

I wrote 61 poems in ’61 in a small room like black coffin, inside room only salami, whiskey, sexy photographs from Times Square. No Bible, no cookbook, no telephone book, no checkbook. Short Two fingers typing, talking about World & garbage, You and I, Egg and Earth.[v]

The collective aspect of the project took physical shape when Ting's and Francis's friends around the globe began creating lithographs in response to the poet’s seedy and erotic poetry. Francis, who acted as editor for the volume, also provided funding to purchase the seventeen tons of paper needed, and the Swiss art dealer E. W. Kornfeld printed the editions.[vi]

One Cent Life makes the reader a witness to the inspirations and interactions of the artists brought together by the project. Artistic approaches representing various movements appear and blend with each successive page. While most of the lithographs glow with the intense, unmixed colors associated with the CoBrA group of the 1950s,[vii] the book also exudes the aggressive energy of Abstract Expressionism in the work of Francis (fig. 1) and of Joan Mitchell, both of whom had previously illustrated another of Ting's poetic compilations Fresh Air School.[viii] Roy Lichtenstein, on the other hand, created his first self-proclaimed Pop Art images after working with Jim Dine, Oldenburg, and Andy Warhol on the project. The emergence of Pop Art is also evident in the ways many images incorporate reproductions of advertisements, postcards, and postage stamps.[ix] One Cent Life captures these developments through wide-ranging examples of the era's great innovators and provides a window onto the vibrant origins of overlapping movements and their creators, all inspired by the vision of the artist and poet Walasse Ting.

Written by Danielle N. Kramer

Edited by Diane Miliotes


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i] Mary Lee Corlett, The Prints of Roy Lichtenstein: A Catalogue Raisonne 1948-1993 (New York: Hudson Hills Press in association with the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 1994), 20-21. The complete list of participating artists includes Pierre Alechinsky, Karel Appel, Enrico Baj, Alan Davie, Jim Dine, Oyvind Fahlstrom, Sam Francis, Robert Indiana, Alfred Jensen, Asger Jorn, Allan Kaprow, Alfred Leslie, Roy Lichtenstein, Joan Mitchell, Kiki O.K., Claes Oldenburg, Mel Ramos, Robert Rauschenberg, Reinhoud, Jean-Paul Riopelle, James Rosenquist, Antonio Saura, Kimber Smith, K.R.H. Sonderberg, Walasse Ting, Bram Van Velde, Andy Warhol, and Tom Wesselmann.

[ii] Walasse Ting, One Cent Life, regular ed. (New York: Klipstein & Kornfeld, Berne, 1964). 

[iii] A. F. Page, “An Action Painting,” Bulletin of The Detroit Institute of Arts 39, 1 (1959-60): 12.

[iv] Wake Forest University, Print Collection, One Cent Life, www.wfu.edu/art/pc/pc-ting.html (accessed November 29, 2007).

[v] Walasse Ting, “Near 1 Cent Life,” Art News 65, 3 (May 1966): 67.

[vi] Ting, “Near 1 Cent Life,” 38; Ting, One Cent Life, regular ed. 1964, tp.

[vii] Willemijn Stokvis, Cobra: An International Movement in Art After the Second World War (New York: Rizzoli, 1988): 20.

[viii] Carnegie Institute, Museum of Art, Fresh Air School, (Pittsburgh: The Institute, 1972).

[ix] Corlett, Prints of Lichtenstein, 20-21.

I see everyone tires of this already.

Oh well.  The above is an article I wrote for The Art Institute of Chicago highlighting items in the Ryerson and Burnham Libraries.  If you find a copy of One Cent Life near you, I advise you take a look.  If that sounds unreasonable but you are still curious, click on this link to see other prints from the book.

One Cent Life Portfolio

What I've been watching

Its beautiful outside, but I wouldn't know because I have been inside watching the following:

Re-watched Magnolia this morning, yet again.  Every time I make new connections, observations, hear a new line. Watch the extras, do your research, and re-watch with subtitles for all the gems you might have missed.  (Beat the game on your own first, then buy the cheat code so you don't feel guilty).  About to read Charles Fort's Wild Talents, in which he writes of freak happenings and natural disasters, from which P.T.A. commandeers the apocalyptic idea of frogs falling from the sky as "something that happens."  These tragic tales of carefully interwoven characters remind us that "We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us." 

Magnolia (1999)

Writer/Director:  Paul Thomas Anderson

Starring Julianne Moore, William H. Macy, John C. Reilly, Tom Cruise, Phillip Baker Hall, Phillip Seymore Hoffman, Jason Robards, and Melora Walters, to name a few.  And they ALL CRY, like really cry.  Insane awesome cry scenes.  For three hours.  Take the time, because you need it. 

Also this morning, (happy fourth of July) watched one of Quentin Tarantino's inspirations for Reservoir Dogs, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three.  1974, Walter Mattau and Jerry Stiller as racist, sexist cops with thick New York accents, mustachioed bad guys with huge guns, a million dollars and 18 lives at stake, jokes and stereotypes and a great ending...  need I say more?

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974)

Director:  Joseph Sargent

Writers:  John Godey (novel)

 Peter Stone (screenplay)

Another Tarantino catalyst for his latest film, Death Proof, was 1971's Vanishing Point.  Ex-cop/failed race car driver, Kowalski (Barry Newman), works for a car delivery company for which he promises to deliver an all white, suped-up 1970 Dodge Challenger from Colorado to California in record time.  With legions of police and helicopters hot on his tail, blind deejay Supersoul (Cleavon Little) acts as Kowalski's eyes on the road, leading him to safety through the desert to his final destination.  The nation listens and watches, some helping along the way,  as the last free soul races to freedom.   

Vanishing Point (1971)

Director:  Richard C. Sarafian

Writer:  Malcom Hart (story)

G. Cabrera Infante (screenplay)

Thanks for reading!  Now do the watching.

Blank card.

untitled
Originally uploaded by Tracing Is Fun

Collage, thread.  

Thank you card.

untitled
Originally uploaded by Tracing Is Fun

Pencil, collage, thread. 

Shout Out To Submarines!

I listened to ODB (Ol' Dirty Bastard for all you non-slang folks) on the ride home today from work, and it had me thinking; If ODB can make it, I can too. Well, then again, I am not addicted to crack (just yet) and my heart has yet to fail (literally, not figuratively).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAI_xK51P5o

I am trapped in an awkward phase is my life where I keep running into everyone I used to know. All Elliott Smith quotes aside, I really am trying to keep both feet forward without tripping over my shoe laces. I really feel as though I have so much going for me, yet nothing at all. It seems as though when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Well, they get a moving and that is what I am aiming for. There comes a time when you have to venture out of the box and move towards something big, or something bigger. I kicked my ragged shoes off and jumped in a rain puddle just to feel something at all. I realized the roses are red, I really hate the feeling of sandpaper, and that I can not rely on people who are unreliable. Sometimes you have to do things yourself, and darling, I did it all, or at least I am trying to.

Until Next Time,
Much Love.
Jbright

thoughts from the midwest

My name is Rhea and I am from Ohio. A smallish town in the Northeastern quadrant of the Buckeye State by the name of Akron. A few blips in popular and general culture have shown up on the national radar; the first zepplins and now blimps were built here, F.A. Seiberling headed up the Goodyear Tire/Rubber Co making Akron the rubber capital, AA was founded here in the gatehouse at the mansion of the aforementioned Seiberling's, DEVO created their own brand of punk/electro/evolution rock, and the Soap Box Derby runs yearly down the hills. There are, of course, other things that go on in Akron but these are the few that come to my mind when trying to explain the rusty town in which I was born. We don't have tall buildings (only about two), we aren't internationally renowned for our dining or theater or art. Akron does have something though, something that on my most recent trip back to visit I started to notice after the normal resistance to being home had faded. 

I knew this spirit when I was younger, a few years ago and still living here. Many trips to many places in my late teens to early twenties gave me a strong urge to leave, yet my friendships I had forged through skateboarding gave me this odd respect for the place that we all came from. On top of that, all the people I knew who had left returned after short stints mostly on the west coast. They missed family or friends or just didn't like the place where that had moved. There was always this something else that they missed too. It had been described as down to earth and realness, but these weren't the definition either. 

As I moved I found it hard to leave my friends and family and the comfortable places that I drove and walked over my entire life. I stuck it out and moved out to.....Indiana. This was short lived and I moved to Chicago after a year which I enjoyed immensely. I felt alive and young and scared and on the edge of growing up. It was great. The more I visited Akron the less I missed it. The more I was away the more it frustrated me. People that stayed were lazy and those that left were trailblazing heroes....in my head. Maybe this is selfishness or maybe it is just moving through a developmental stage in one's life. Regardless, for the past couple of months it has been incredibly hard to visit. Until this last time before I embark on a cross country drive.

The beginning of this visit was rough and I tried to quickly get over my withdrawal of the busy Chicago everyday. I've been trying to make the best of my days here, see family and good friends. Today I had a particular errand to run. It's totally boring and I knew it would be useless but I wanted to get an estimate on some rust on my car. The auto place was incredibly hard to find, it's located off of and antiquated traffic circle in the township of Tallmadge. So after turning around for the 4th time I headed back in to the cyclical beast. I sat idling in traffic waiting for my turn to go. There's a bank that I used to frequent to my left and an A&W stand to my right. I noticed an oil change place just north of the bank. I just happened to look at the garage door, when a tough looking, shaved-bald guy presumably with tattoos came out. He quickly stretched his arms out and reached up to the sky in an almost childish movement. Out of his hands came a butterfly. It flew fast out of the man's grasp and took off over the roof of the garage and kept going. The moment was so strange, this tiny delicate creature flying out of a muscular and sweaty mechanic. I figured in the moment that even though I was stuck in stupid traffic I had at least witnessed a very interesting sight. "These things don't happen every day", I thought to myself and tried to smile alone. After having some time to meditate on the past days and what's happened in them I feel as though I might know what that something is that I have been trying to name. It's home and where you are from whether you like it or not.  It just is who you are. 

The Kids In the Hall at Chicago Theater

So I had an amazing time seeing The Kids In The Hall. Like, strangely overwhelmingly nostalgic, emotional, amazing good time. Its almost embarrassing how shaped I was by television. Isn't that just so American, raised by t.v.? Is it slightly redeeming that they are Canadian? Anyway, Aaron and I file into our seats as the lights go down and a video illuminates the screen over the stage in front of us. And so begins a prerecorded sketch of the five paunchy, aged members of, in my opinion, the best damned comedy troop ever. I have to admit, although I had been mentally preparing myself to see my t.v. idols too many years out of their prime, it was a bit unsettling at first to see the former youths look like melting wax figures from gravity and time taking its toll. The introductory, on-screen sketch was of the group brainstorming ideas for their new tour, deciding that raping Kevin, despite his wishes, would be the best way to make their grand entrance. "No, no, no." Kevin pleaded. "What if we... rape Bruce! Yeah!" The group stared back blankly. "Pretty hee-haw kind of stuff there Kevin," replied Bruce. And so, the final vote was to rape Kevin. "We could even open the whole show with it, if we play our theme song..." Suddenly, the film comes to life with the booming signature guitar riffs of Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet filling the theater, and four screaming Kids chasing one Speedo-ed Kevin with an apple in his mouth move from the screen to the stage. The crowd roars! The show begins! All the energy of the once youthful figures is alive and well right in front of my eyes. There is the magic. I am so glad I came. This feels unreal.

Seeing The Kids In the Hall, the great idols of my teenage years, shapers of my personality more than school and church and girl scouts combined, well, it was strange and weird and wonderful all at the same time. These characters I grew up with were becoming a reality, screaming and cursing, the actors changing between takes and fumbling their lines, Kevin at one point cracking up and hiding under a chair for his faux pas. They were as I had never thought I would see them. REAL. It was like being a little kid, and thinking, man I love Oscar the Grouch. You may not realize he's a puppet, but you certainly would be confused if he was real. And then you get to meet him. And he's really real, right in front of you. Meeting Oscar the Grouch. I'd be like, "What you got in that trash can, Oscar the Grouch?" and he'd show me. Take me on a tour. But that's another time. These people are the characters they play in a sense. What is the Chicken Lady without Mark? Its just a costume. So I sat there and watch my idols, my favorite characters, all really real, right in front of me, with a big dumb smile plastered on my face for the duration of the show, hooting and hollering, jeering and laughing, and welling with tears. Yes, tears. Because I was laughing so hard, yes, but also tears for the glow I felt inside watching my heroes come to life.

Its funny, as an adult, I am hardly ever star-struck anymore, ya' know. People are people, and that's that. But these people on this night, they were an exception to that rule. Most memories from childhood never quite keep their same shape. We learn new pieces to the puzzle, we find out the rest of the story as we grow up and learn about life and our past. You find out what really happened that day, and the memories start to lose their golden glow. But all that was good and gold about The Kids In the Hall never changed for me. So much of my humor and understanding and open-mindedness came from watching Buddy, one of the only homosexuals I knew of growing up in small-town Ohio, or the shoulder-padded Kathy's under their glass ceiling. They forced me to just begin cracking the surface of feminism and oppression and hypocrisy and prejudice, subjects I still unfold the layers of to this day. These characters and commentaries questioned the government and religion, stereotypes and oppression. They made me laugh, yes, but most importantly, they made me think. I wanted to go up there and hug each and every one of them and thank them for being such amazing individuals, and for coming back into my adult reality to say hello. And, sadly, to say goodbye. Scott, Mark, Kevin, Bruce and Dave, they all had a hand in my upbringing, and I cried tears of joy when I was able to stand with hundreds of others touched individuals in that packed Chicago Theater and thank them in person with a thunderous, cheering, standing ovation. And the best part of all this was my husband standing at my side. We met each other as adults, and we exchange stories of our upbringing, but we can never really know what it was like to know each other as kids. But we both grew up on The Kids. We both know what that was like, watching and laughing and learning from these crazy Canadians in small-town Ohio. We probably like parts of each other that were somewhat formed by Kids In the Hall humor. And that's just great. I love that. I really do. I loved the show. My husband loved the show. And together, we still love the Kids In the Hall, after all these years.

Thank you Bruce McCulloch, Mark McKinney, Dave Foley, Scott Thompson, Kevin McDonald, Paul Bellini, Lorne Michaels, and everyone else who had a hand in making The Kids In the Hall a reality. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Written with love by Danielle N. Kramer

Rape Kevin! Sketch

Me & Josh Caterer

“Hey man, Duvall’s playin’ in Chicago next week, you wanna’ go?” Tom said to me on the phone one winter day in Ohio circa 2002. I fucking love the Smoking Popes! I thought in my head. Since I will never see them live because they had to go and break up before I got into them, Duvall will be the closest thing to that. “Yes! I am there!” I responded. Tom then told me that we could stay with Chris from Showoff, because they will be opening up for them at this show. Awesome. Little did Tom know that Chris would rip him off 900 dollaz in a couple months, for a friendly gesture gone wrong. But that’s a whole different story all together and end’s with us prank phone calling his ex-rock-star-ass in Bum Fuck, Missouri at his delightful Domino’s pizza job.

We set off that next weekend and drove to Chris’ in “Chicago”. I use “ “ because when we ended up at his house it was nowhere near Chicago. That suburban shit town of Joliet, Illinois was where we ended up staying. I set my frustration aside from not being in the city I wanted to visit so much, and tried to enjoy myself. We got the girl drink drunk on at his apartment and went to bed.

The next day we saddled up with the rest of the band from Showoff and headed to what I thought would be CHICAGO! Fucking wrong again. Goddamn middle of nowhere Illinois. Next stop DeKalb, Illinois! Looks exactly like JJJJoliet! A friggin’ Elks Lodge is where the show was. I couldn’t believe it. Shut up Aaron. You get to see three of the original members of the Smoking Popes play their new Christian inspired rock. It will be sweet. Repeat in head. Again. Again. Okay, this is gonna’ be awesome.

Showoff was fun to watch, I think we snuck some booze in and did that shit and all. The drummer, Mike Felumlee, of Duvall/Smoking Popes was walking around and I approached him. He used to drum for the Alkaline Trio, another one of ma’ favzz. I was friggdiggity nervous, but managed to utter a couple words that I cannot even remember and had him sign his solo cd that I just purchased from his wife at the merchandise table.

That done, Tom and I saw Eli Caterer and approached him. Tom befriended him, and still talks to him to this day in random parts of the country at shows. I got his autograph on my Duvall ep that he didn’t even play on. He was cool, but I felt he wasn’t used to fans approaching him like that.

It was showtime! Duvall started to play as I filmed it on my shite camera on some tape that sits in a box in my closet. The show was great. They played there ep songs and a couple covers. They ended with a Smoking Popes song, Josh Caterer’s favorite, “ I Know You Love Me” acoustic style. Fun, fun, fun. Yes it was. But there was something missing, oh yeah…..rocking!!!! I believe that Josh had lost a little bit of that rock n' roll jimmy jammz, and he didn’t want to show it, but I could feel it. I could see behind his eyes that he felt it too. Maybe it’s just my opinion, but I feel he wanted something more from what he was doing, but it was gonna’ take a couple years for it to kick in.

I felt a connection to him. I saw Duvall a handful of times in the next couple of years at random spots. There were rumors that Smoking Popes where gonna’ go at it again. I said fuck that, it ain’t gonna’ happen. Josh would never let me see him play “Pretty Pathetic” live, that’s not how my life works.

I kind of lost interest in keeping up with the bands news, but still bought their records. Then in the fall of 2005, something happened. Josh got his shit together and was doing a reunion show at the Metro in Chicago. I found out about it a little too late and couldn’t attend, but quickly purchased the cd/dvd from the show when it was released. Coincidently, I can’t find it on my shelf anymore. Maybe Zach has it in Cleveland?

Anyways, a tour started and I eventually saw them at the Grog Shop in the fall of '06 with Tom, Danielle, and Zach. It was a scarce crowd, I guess Ohio had given up on them too, but that didn’t stop my own posse from lovin’ every second of it. The rumors of a new album where running through the crowd, but not until last night (a year and a half later) did it actually come into my possession at their record release show at the Metro Chicago. I am listening to it, and am quite pleased. The show was packed and Sundowner opened. Yes, it did happen, on 6.07.08. They got back together and now they are doing it again. Something that I thought would just not happen, but kind of did.

I know I’ll never see Nirvana or The Clash play again, for obvious reasons, but I kind of always knew way deep inside (that’s a pun on a song title if you listen to this shit). I felt it in DeKalb when I saw Josh sing that one Smoking Popes song acoustic, that this was only a temporary thing. The real Josh will be back, and yes, he has returned. Whatever personal things he had going on in his life in the last ten years, I respect that, but goddamn, thanks for getting over that shit. It really means a lot. I guess that the moral/theme of this quick piece is that my teenage self developed immensely from his songwriting and inspired a lot of what I am today. I give him that. It was a period of about 6-7 years that this took place for me personally, and that’s a brief story of me and Josh Caterer. I think Tommy Sproles would enjoy this. And….I’m done.

-Aaron H. Baker

I'll start with old work...

but I promise I will make new.

What's Goin' On

I guess I started this because I saw a possibility to share.  I invited all of you because I see what great things you have to offer.  I think at this point many of us are in the same boat.  We all have something to say, something to show, but many of us don't have any real platform.  With no platform, its difficult to continue to perform, to make.  I have seen something special in all of you.  And I know you all see it in each other too, that's why we are all friends and hang out and share stories and start bands and take trips together.  I want to see our efforts in a group, a community, a place with support and feedback and influence and inspiration.  My hope is that this will bring out the urge to write if you don't normally write, or photograph if you don't normally photograph, or start the project you have been turning over in your head but never got going.  We are funny and talented and insightful, so lets all make something happen.  I'm done being sappy.  Those are my words of inspiration for tonight.

This blogck will self destruct. 

P.S.  

Fuck a zine.  Dani's goin digital.

Hey Fellow Writers

So about this blog...

Well, I guess this is a way to stay connected, creatively, conversationally, whatever.  Some of you are far away, others are right in my bed, (yes you Aaron, no one else is in my bed).  But for the most part, I am not currently collaborating with anyone, and I would like to, even if its something small.  I really miss having an artistic community.  So I am inviting all you artsy-fartsies to join me in posting your business up here to share with the group. 

This could also be an opportunity to advertise our individual endeavors.  I figure if people think the awesome crap we put on here is cool in any way, maybe we can divert those suckas from their normal routine into coming to our opening or screening or whatever we have going on at the time.  Get my drift?  Hey, get my drift?  Yeah, I say that now.  This is also an opportunity to find out what we all are listening to, watching, or whatever, so reviews are encouraged.  Yeah, that is what we talk about all day long anyway, but there's nothing more beautiful than writing your carefully crafted opinions down as you discover what you really think.  Not just drunken convo.  (Yes, I also say convo now.  I am finding so much out about myself already).

So if you want to post art or shorts or sketches or reviews or whatever you want to put up, do it.  Maybe I will get my shit together and make a zine out of it.  Who knows.  Thanks for reading, and in advance, if you do, thanks for participating.   Any ideas, feedback, invites, requests to change this dumb name, whatever, are more than welcome.

Thanks guys!

-D