Metal

Daniel Dog MonsterTruck @ Ash St. Saloon 

Dog is a rocker.  He currently works as a bouncer at the Ash St. Saloon.  A very drunk man offered him resin rips, but Dog wouldn't get down.  He let the guy smoke, but warned him there were video cameras and that he better put the bowl away right quick.  Dog really didn't give a shit.  It was his night off, so he was just getting loaded and riffing.  Here are some of his choice lines:

"My name is Dog.  D-O-G.  Not like Snoop Dogg.  Not like 'Hey Dawg'.  Not like Dog the Bounty Huter, that racist piece of shit.  Just Dog."

"Fuck racism.  I was in rural Buttfuck, Washington and people were saying 'How could you not be racist after spending three years in lockup for blahdy fucking blah?  Fuck you!  I came from Oklahoma City and FUCK YOU!  So I was glad to get out of that shithole"

"I'm not a satanist.  You gotta believe in GOD to believe in Satan!  Fuck."

"You're not gonna talk shit on me on the internet!  If you talk shit on me on the internet, you'd better not lemme find you.  I'll fucking stab you."

"Fuck.  Don't worry about writing down your blog address.  I won't be looking at this shit tomorrow.  Fuck it I'm drinking!  Let's do this."

Dog's awesome.  Besides cracking skulls at Ash St. he moonlights at a certain yuppie grocery store, the name of which I won't disclose out of fear of getting stabbed.     

The People's Artist

Chris Haberman @ Goodfoot

If you were to throw a dart at a map of Portland, I'd hedge a bet that it'd fall within a five block radius of some Chris Haberman art.  His work is ubiquitous in PDX:  His murals are commonplace in bars and restaurants, he slings art like Diddy, and judging from his facebook invites, he has no less than three art openings a month.  On top of his vibrant personal career, Chris helps curate shows for PoBoy Art and Goodfoot, as well as co-owns a shop at Pioneer Place called The People's Art of Portland.  On top of that, Chris was instrumental in coordinating mega-art happenings The Manor of Art, 28 Days in May, and The Big 100   ON TOP OF THAT... oh fuck it, just read his bio.  When does this guy find time to sleep?

Just like Kung Fu

Adam Lisser @ Red's Bar & Grill

Adam insists that if you know martial arts you're less likely to get 86'd from bars.  He recounted a story of being three sheets to the wind, weaving through a crowd of rowdies by walking some tai chi sidestep.  The bouncer thought he was walking oddly and told him so.  Adam contested that he was maintaining his space and balance through martial arts and illustrated his point by grappling an unoccupied chair with his foot and kicking it in between him and the bouncer.  The bouncer was impressed, bought him a drink, and they had a good conversation about kung fu.  "Bouncers respect martial arts," he says, "Most of them probably studied it themselves."  He may be right to a certain degree, but that doesn't make it okay to get dim and challenge the doorman to a Shaolin fistfight.  After all, honor is the path and hubris is the quickest way home.    

New American Weird

Lesley Graves & Allison Jones @ Doug Fir

Before you ridicule my garish use of photoshop, I would like to ask:  Have you seen the art that's come out of Baltimore recently?  It's like a computer ate LSD and skittles and then puked.  It's pretty, but also tawdry & hyperactive.  So this is my little tribute to Baltimore's New Weird America; I have fed my computer acid skittles and turned a poorly shot photo into a pukey tribute to Wham City!

This is also a warning for Lesley and Allison to watch out for Baltimore artists.  Word is, these New Weird Americans rifle through thrift stores searching for bric-a-brac to turn into new weird statements on America.  Years ago, Lesley was featured in the critically acclaimed textbook We the People (only a few pages separate from Ronald Reagan!) and some day, that childhood picture of her sliding gleefully (and patriotically) down a slide may appear at Nudashank with polychromatic laser-beams shooting out of her eyes.  When she was a wee tyke, Allison cameoed in a Japanese baby food commercial.  The brand must be kept secret, lest Jimmy Joe Roche discovers it and edits the stock footage into some bizarre amalgam that also features clips of Arnold Schwarzenegger, animated kittens, Rorschach blots, and a mildly disingenuous psyched-out UFO preacher.  

My point is don't do anything EVER if you don't want Baltimore to make weird out of you.  Because it will... maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday... some future-hipster will be sifting through the City of Trash and come across your self-produced LP, "Raised on a Dream", and use it in a very weird sound collage.  It is only a matter of time, gentle friend.  We will all be weird soon enough.  

    

Ash Street Hero

Jacob Elias @ Ash St. Arts Program

At first glance, Jacob's reflective pose and steely-eyed gaze may lead certain readers to assume that he is an Emo type of guy, but Jacob is not Emo:  Jacob is Mod.  We worked together at the Ash Street Arts Program, teaching art to people with disabilities and helping them establish themselves as professional artists.   Jacob really loved the job, but sacrificed it to be with his special lady who recently moved to Baltimore for grad school.  This photo was taken on his last day at work, right before the start of his long journey East.

In his absence, our clients have mythologized him to a certain degree.  In one recent painting, he is portrayed as "WindTalker Jacob Elias",  a Native American who has summoned a tornado to decimate the herd of buffalos that killed his father, "Soaring Eagle Joe".  Recently a script was added beneath a self-portrait he left us that reads:  "Ash Street Hero, Let Him Never Be Forgotten".   Forever a legend, this guy.  We miss you, Jacob.              

Fo-Mo

Sweet Julie 

"Sweet Julie" is Former Mormon, or Fo-Mo.  Hailing from Salt Lake City, she was raised in the promised land of Latter Day Saints.  She decided to leave her congregation because of serious misgivings about Mormonism's attitude toward women.  She immediately cited women's exclusion from Power of the Priesthood.  At age 12, Mormon boys are indoctrinated into the LDS through the granting of "priesthood", an invocation of God's power, redeemable only through the competency of "His Sons".  Julie implied that women's debarring from this privilege implies subservience to the patriarchy.  Mor-Men hold the roles of decision makers because of their perceived entitlement, whereas women and children are to be obedient to Father's decrees or demands.  I asked her about Polygamy as well, if the custom of multiple (female) spouses basically commodifies women.  She wavered:  "Well, to a degree, yes, but it basically comes down to the church's attitudes toward procreation.  They want to have as many followers as possible... so women are seen more as vessels all around."  

From what I hear, Mormons are making some concessions to the modern world, but "power of the priesthood" probably won't be one, as it's a crucial aspect of their faith.  Yet, should the LDS continue to alienate women they may in fact jeopardize their own long-term viability.  Salt Lake City's Mormon population is already declining, perhaps because many believers are flocking to Idaho, or perhaps because many, like Julie, are empowering themselves and moving to places like Portland.  To deny women's kindredness to spirit, equality, and influence is a seriously antiquated notion, but at the same time the concept of subservience to men is implicit in the cornerstones of the Latter Day Saints.  In my opinion, the future may hold a pretty serious impasse for "God's Sons".           

Kids Today

Alex @ Sunnyside Elementary

These kids thought I was so weird.  When I asked them if they wanted to pull tarot cards, they looked at me like I was cross-eyed.  Only Alex was willing to try it, explaining to his friends that "they tell your future and stuff".  I told him that I wasn't that good, that I can't tell people's future or anything like that.  He seemed disappointed and looked at his basketball hesitantly, but decided to try it anyway. Considering his youth, his choice of cards seemed to pertain to individuation:  the process of differentiating oneself from the collective in order to establish a distinct sense of individuality.  The first card he drew (9 of Cups) hinted at le premier amour, an inclination toward a #1 Crush.  The second (5 of Swords) symbolized a death of old ideas and the blossoming of a new understanding of the world.  The final card (The Chariot) intimated the discovery of innate talents and the challenge of putting them to use in the world.  It wasn't a bad reading and Alex seemed content with it, if not thrilled.  Had I been able to tell the future, I could have warned him that his basketball was about to be thrown into a giant puddle, but that probably wouldn't have been that exciting either.           

Abide With Me

Johnny, Hank, Steve, and Greg @ Vincente's Gourmet Pizza

The music of Miles Davis forged this encounter.  A random conversation about his soul-crushing album Elevator to the Gallows inspired a very drunk hepcat to plug OzGnosis, a jazzband that jams for free at Vincente's Pizza every Thursday afternoon.  Hepcat told me that he works there and would buy me a slice of pizza and a beer if I stopped by some afternoon.  Drunken promises aside, I'm always down for free jazz and took the initiative to check out OzGnosis a few weeks later.  It was a blast!  They swing, covering late-great ingrates such as Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, and especially Thelonious Monk.  It soon became apparent that OzGnosis' relationship with 'the monk who spins in cirlces' transcends simple musical appreciation.  As the guitarist was tuning up between songs, they made chit-chat about donating a copy of Monk's instrumental Abide With Me to the O.T.O for use in  rituals.  I overheard this and did a double-take:  The O.T.O, or Ordo Templi Orientis, is an esoteric sect that synthesizes the teachings of Aleister Crowley, Gnosticism, and various Mystery traditions. Ozgnosis aren't just jazz musicians, they're jazz mystics. 

Jazz can be so commodified nowadays, so I appreciated talking to the Jazz Gnostics of OzGnosis after their set.   They perceive Thelonious Monk as a sorceror of the ivories, his music manipulating the structures of time and sensory perception trapped wherein.  This brought to mind the work of Harry Smith, a visionary artist (and honored initiate of the O.T.O) who created a series of paintings mapping the precise notation of jazz songs such as Dizzy Gillespie's "Manteca" and used Monk's "Misterioso" to score his avant garde (and very trippy) animation Untitled 11.  I had never thought introspectively about jazz as a source of magical innovation, but it is very sensible due to the music's influence on the Post-War avant garde, an idiosyncratic American artistic movement with many subtle and not-so-subtle ties to the occult.   

Another auspicious coincidence was that OzGnosis' drummer, Greg Foster, had participated in my Tarot project a few months prior!  He informed me (Paul Wolfe) that after our previous encounter in Laurelhurst park, he went to an astrology group and met a gal named Sarah Wolfe.  Greg identifies with the Norse god Odin, who is often depicted with two wolves at his side and found it synchronistic to have met two strange Wolfes in one day!  I suppose that is the lottery of the universe playing it's strange game.  The dice rolls and the beat goes on.  OzGnosis can be experienced every Thursday at Vincente's from about 1:30 pm to 3:30 pm.  Check it out if you're into the sounds of the universe churning butter in your soul!                  

Stuck Between

Sunshine Two-Eagle @ SE 37th & Belmont

On Christmas Day a song came through my window, a Lakota song sung by a weathered stranger on my unusually quiet corner.  I was curious to talk to her, so I grabbed my coat and went outside to meet her.  She had ambled on by the time I got outside, but I caught up with her down the street as she was sifting through a recycling bin full of holiday detritus.  I complimented her song and asked if she was Lakota.  "I speak Lakota," she told me, "But I am Sioux-- Oglala Sioux.  My name is Sunshine Two-Eagle".  

I told Sunshine about my photo series and to my surprise she agreed to participate.  What followed was the most authentic, engaging, and heart-breaking conversation I have ever had with a complete stranger.  Sunshine told me she is currently unemployed and lives in a halfway house, but is working towards her G.E.D at Portland Community College.  She is originally from Wounded Knee, a scrap of haunted land that would (and legally should) be the Great Sioux Nation.  She described the beautiful Black Hills of Dakota.  She shared her dream of Eagle Society, a politics whose currency is honor and respect.   She hinted at her spiritual councils:  Eagle, Bear, and Wolf.   She reminisced about her family & spoke in glowing terms of her husband and uncle, both dead before 50 due to coronary failure.  She told me in chilling detail of the extreme poverty of Wounded Knee, offering a story concerning her an encounter with tribal police on her 18th birthday for public drunkenness; at the precinct she was not asked where she bought the liquor, but rather where she got the money to buy the liquor.  Through personal stories, she described Wounded Knee's ubiquitous police presence, whose tactics of intimidation, harassement, and violence toward the Sioux community continue to this day.  She recounted her brief involvement with the American Indian Movement and how she renounced politics after seeing her friends and her elders humiliated, beaten, and even murdered by authorities to surpress their struggle for autonomy.  She revealed many very personal aspects of her life, past and present, that out of respect for her and her privacy, I choose not to repeat in this public forum.

Words cannot describe the honor I feel to have had this freewheeling conversation with Sunshine.  That honor is surmounted by her consent to be photographed, as I am the second person she has ever permitted to do this.  Her life and the history of violence perpetrated against the Sioux highlight a nightmarish contrast to the American Dream & the frivolity of Christmas.  The sad truth is that if you're White and you live in America, your way of life comes at the expense of the indigenous population; no matter what problems you have, they are trivial in comparison.  Imagine being stuck between two divergent worlds--two cultures in conflict-- not knowing where you belong or how to better your life.  Do you leave your home and your family and try to integrate into a world of privilege as an outsider?  Or do you remain on The Rez and freeze and starve and struggle with the Feds, the poverty, the gangs, the addictions, the despair looming over your life?  Think about that next time you open a Christmas present.  Think about the people at whose expense your lifestyle comes.  Think about how it must feel to wallow in the wreckage of an amazing and beautiful culture.  To help you visualize this, please check out Aaron Huey's TED Talk that provides the oral history of Wounded Knee , as well as an insightful photo series that portray the current conditions:  Give Back the Black Hills.  It really is the least we can do.     

       

   

Sweaty, Gritty, Real

Aaron Ettlin & Tim Cowan @ House Show

I caught up with Aaron a few minutes after he rocked the faces off a bunch of kids in an overflowing living room.  He plays lead guitar for a madcap garage band The Angry Orts and the dude has serious chops.  It was a high energy show that ended in a frantic demand for an encore, which unfortunately went unfulfilled because the bassist had to rush off to his "other job".  Tim was pretty wired on the crowd's energy, especially the full on mosh-pit that dominated the claustrophobic living room.  When the dust settled, I ran into Aaron outside chillaxing with Orts manager, Tim, whom I repeatedly called "The Hype Man".  After he pulled some tarot, I asked Aaron where he wanted to take the photo and he replied "Right here.  Let's make this REAL.  Fucking sweaty, gritty, REAL right fuckin' here!"  I asked Hype Man to jump in on the picture suggesting he back Aaron up like Mace used to back up Puff Daddy.  "I want to believe The Hype.  That's your job, Hype Man.  You gotta represent," I yammered.  So here they are rockin in the free world, representing killer guitar solos, the hype, and Portland Fucking Oregon.   

As-Salāmu `Alaykum

Zahra, Muna, Dania @ Pioneer Square

On November 27, 2010, Mohamed Osman Mohamud had a rude awakening.  After attempting to detonate a car-bomb at Pioneer Square's annual Christmas tree lighting, he was arrested by his "collaborators" who turned out to be undercover FBI agents.   In the days after, the U.S Attorney's Office issued a statement that read, "The device was in fact inert, the public was never in danger."  Except for maybe Muslims.  Mere hours after Mohamud's dipshit attempt to kill hundreds of innocent people, an arsonist's fire set ablaze The Salman Alfarisi Islamic Center in Corvallis, OR.  The same reactionary hate crimes were perpetrated in the aftermath of 9-11.  I wonder if the FBI considered possible retaliatory violence towards Muslims in their set-up of Mohamud?  I also wonder if psychologically taunting a city with a fake bomb plot could technically be considered an act of terrorism?

These young ladies practice the beautiful & peaceful religion of Islam.  They go to an options school in Beaverton, OR where they study Health & Science.  I met them at a rally for unity and peace at Pioneer Place a few weeks after the federally mandated "bomb-plot".  Sponsored by The Salman Alfarisi Islamic Center, this rally invited the public to display solidarity against violent extremism and express unity amidst our differences.   Zahra, Muna, and Dania are not generally politically active, but Dania explained that they felt it was important to be there and express their wish for peace.  To me, they represent the true face of Islam and I would much rather see these faces in the news recognizing their accomplishments, rather than the scowl of a jihadi or any other violent extremist for that matter.  That is all of our responsibility, we must stop equating Islam and "terrorism" and reach out rather than retaliate.  As-Salāmu `Alaykum (Peace be upon you).

Wasted Waste Wasting

Mark @ 26th & Belmont Billboards

I've always been a big fan of Situationist graffiti:  caustic slogans such as In the decor of the spectacle, the eye meets only things and their prices; Under the paving stones, it's the beach; and Art is dead, Godard can't change that.  I would a million times over prefer revolutionary agitprop scrawled on walls, rather than a half-assed tag.  At least propagandists risk arrest for their ideals, rather than their ego.  That said, I was thrilled to see this scrawl on a PBR billboard:  USA:  Wasted Waste Wasting.  It is a phenomenal critique of a culture of excess and escapism.  To me it begs the question:  At whose expense do we party?  What social responsibilities do we neglect as we consume ourselves into a pleasant, yet ultimately superficial intoxication?    

Aware of the short life-span of graffiti, I hung out on this corner on a cold December night waiting to photograph a willing subject.  The first person to walk by was Mark.  I stopped him and explained my project and told him my ulterior motive, pointing out the scrawl on the billboard.  He glanced at the graffiti and seemed disinterested.  Nevertheless, he agreed to pose for a picture if we made it snappy.   Though he wasn't too interested in the graffiti, he was at least willing to associate himself with it.  I like to think that some small part of him related to this scrawl, that he understood it even though at the moment he was distracted by a "people to see/places to be" mentality.  That is the nature of revolutionary agitprop, it's message is subtle yet arresting, sowing the seeds for a struggle that may fill your heart, rather than an impulse that will only fill your cup.        

New Year

Janna @ Bob & Alice's Tavern

While serving drinks to New Years revelers, Janna noticed me taking tarot photos and asked i f I'd read her fortune as well.   She was a bit nervous at first, aware of her tendency to read too deeply into the divination aspect of the cards.  "I have a tarot program on my computer," she told me, "When I get cards I don't like, I reload the program."  This evening, however, she picked fine cards, including The Lovers and the Two of Pentacles-- cards that signify new collaborations and a propensity for deep relationships.  Janna was impressed by my interpretation of the Two of Pentacles, a card that hints at a new career, project or partnership. That card specifically hit home for her since she had just started bartending at Bob and Alice's a few weeks prior.  She seemed a bit self-conscious about The Lovers however, since she is single and found it improbable that she would meet a new beau anytime soon.  I told her she's got mojo and to keep her eye out for that special someone and even if a new love affair doesn't come about, she can at least pass that love on to her regulars.  Janna liked that interpretation even though it wasn't exactly a "fortune".  She is a warm soul in a cold bar, kinda like a Neil Young song.  I hope she finds what she's looking for.    

The End

Mick @ Bob & Alice's Tavern

"Fuck New Year's Resolutions!  Your life (farfle) is already shit and you're (farfle) not really gonna do shit about it.  So why bother?"  Mick is a realist with a speech impediment*, a man who has seen some rough and tumble times and has accepted the futility of using New Year's Eve as a platform for dramatic (and generally unfulfilled) life changes.  He seemed to consider himself too old to change anyway; he is approaching 64, the same age his father was when he passed away.  He fixated on the Death card and suggested death itself was not what most people feared.  The true fear is leaving behind one's friends and family and missing out on the world.  I ran with that and asked him if the fear of eternity was more prominent in men's heart than the fear of death itself.  "Have you ever been in one of those carnival rooms with all the mirrors," he asked,  "Look at yourself in there (farfle) and tell me what you think?  (farfle) Long and endless forever (farfle) in those mirrors.  The world's gonna end too.  And y'know what's gonna happen?  Giant (farfle) words in the sky!  THE END!"  I can't help but wonder if at the same time he said this, there were dead blackbirds dropping from the sky.   

Mick was intent on pulling the Death card, but instead he got cards signifying relationships and emotions.  "Are you trying to (farfle) put a witch's curse on me?  The (farfle) Pentecostals tried to get me and now you're trying to get me too!  (farfle)"  He didn't like the love cards and insisted on another reading.  He drew three more cards and listened intently until I started talking about dreams and the mysteries of the unconscious.  "You'll be doing real well until you say something that pissed me off," he muttered.  I quickly changed the subject back to death.

*Mick's speech impediment did not sound exactly like "farfle" but was kind of a mix between slurring words, deep breaths, and swishing water.  His impediment never came up in conversation, nor did he seem too sensitive about it, which is why I have included it here for context.   

Lemurians

Nitya Prem @ Float On

Any conversation about six-foot tall, subterraneous lizard people is a conversation worth having.  I was discussing vortexes with one of the owners of Float On and, as so many conversations about strange and enigmatic landscapes do, the conversation veered into the mysteries of Mt. Shasta.  From a couch in the corner, Nitya chimed in:  "Hey, I used to live in Mt. Shasta!"  Without skipping a beat I replied, "Really?  Have you ever seen the lizard people who live inside the volcano?"  She paused for a second and I thought I had weirded her out.  "You mean the Lemurians?" she asked.  I was stumped, I asked her if that was what locals call our legendary reptilian overlords.  "No," she replied, "Lemurians are the blue people that live in the mountain!"  

Now for any of you who unfamiliar with Mt. Shasta, allow me to explain.  It is a volcano in Northern California of awe-inspiring beauty and pure, unbridled weirdness.  The mountain glows at night, plants and animals thrive, it attracts spiritual seekers and the connoisseurs of the strange like a giant lavalamp, and the whole area palpitates with mythic presence.  Lemurians are apparently inhabitants of an underground civilization called "Telos" hidden within the chasms of Shasta.  The Lizard People I first mentioned are a storied race of hyper-evolved reptilian creatures and masters of "The Beacon".  Through engineering the movement of tectonic plates, The Lizards have mastered the manipulation of "The Light Grid", thus using Mt. Shasta as a cosmic lighthouse for UFOs and multidimensional shapeshifters.

By now you probably think I'm nuts, but these are "true legends" of Mt Shasta and they are the tip of the iceberg.  Shasta is a land of pure hallucination; the vortex of vortexes, a trickster and a muse. The legends represent the overall dynamism of the place and the attitudes of the folks who congregate there.  That is not to say that this is all simply fiction-- I swear by my hair that weird, inexplicable things occur at that mountain and so can Nitya, who lived there for six months.  Neither one of us have actually seen a Lizard Man or a Lemurian (so far as we know), but I can attest to the presence of shamans, snowboarders, and strange azure shadows that walk through the breeze.  It is a magic place.  

Minimalism

Graham Talley @ Float On

Graham's in the business of exploring inner space.  He is 1/4 owner of Float On, a spa featuring four sensory deprivation tanks-- baths completely insulated from light and sound.  For 90 minutes you float in salt water, immersed in darkness and completely isolated from the outside world.   It's a void ripe for contemplation and imagination.  Changes in brain activity occur:  Theta Waves are activated and Dopamine is released, causing an intensified dreamlike state and blissful experiences.  In this chamber, there is literally no difference between opening and closing your eyes, all you have is a multiplex of your own making... your inner cinema.

Businesses like Float On have the potential to change the world.  Graham and his collaborators are passionate, pragmatic individuals, each contributing their personal talents and resources to the collective.  Their mission is to make sensory deprivation available to anyone curious to try it and they stand by that principle.  Sessions are affordable (if you can afford a bag of weed, you can afford a float) and they provide volunteer opportunities, as well as a barter program for artists.  Talking to Graham and his partners for awhile gave me the impression that by nurturing healing and creativity they hope to inspire broader transformations.  By deepening our understanding of ourselves, we may develop sensitivity towards others and take compassionate action in our lives.  It's a folky affirmation, I know, but I think that Float On itself is a testament to that simple truth.  They're good.

*On a sidenote, this blurb was written a few hours post-float.  Each experience is different, but the effects seem to amplify with each session.  Today I experienced some auditory hallucinations (crickets).