Stu Jenks: Fezziwig Photography, Music, and Writing

"New Mexican Prayer Wheel" [Detail] (c) 2008

"New Mexican Prayer Wheel" [Detail] (c) 2008

(A better detail photograph, then before, of the 'New Mexican Prayer Wheel', a batik cloth and found object sculpture hanging at my studio. And please come by Studio BR-549 and see this and other works, by myself and other artists, during the Spring Open Studio Tour on May 10th and 11th of this year. Unless the Wheel sells between now and then, it shall be hanging on a well lit wall at our studios at 549 N. 7th Avenue in Tucson, Arizona)

"New Mexican Prayer Wheel" (c) 2008

"New Mexican Prayer Wheel" (c) 2008 Stu Jenks
(Batik Fabric & Plastic Hubcap from New Mexico: 7'9" x 15" x 4")

[Stu's Fun Facts: The Prayer Wheel was photographed in the hallway at Studio BR-549 in Tucson. No fancy lighting, just the Halogens that we have there, so there is some color-shift in the photographs that I tried to correct in Photoshop, but alas, I couldn't fix it all. If you would like see the piece in person, just give me a call. It is much better live than it is on tape. If you want to purchase it, one of my business managers suggests $1,250. By the way, the hubcap was found in the high desert, south of Carrizozo, New Mexico and the batik fabric is from Tucson. And this piece is dedicated to all those who pray on Bear Butte in South Dakota.]

"The Mustang High Grass Spiral" (c) 2008

"The Mustang High Grass Spiral, Mustang Mountains, Arizona" (c) 2008 Stu Jenks

       MLK Night. I walked in the tall grass at sunset, playing a poor version of "We Shall Overcome", but I didn't judge myself too harshly for the finger faults. Neither would have Dr. King. I had carved the dirt spiral in the ant-flat a hour earlier. I came back, packed up the mando and set up the shots. First shots, not so good. I then moved the camera and shoot directly into the rising Full Moon with a bit of dusk-light still left in the sky. Never had done that before but I kind of liked what I saw and what I shot. Waited another hour and then shot some flame spirals but they didn't make the grade. Wasn't a flame spiral night. Frankly, I may not use the Zippo again. Felt like I was taking a big step backwards.

       Then this morning, I thought about the portable battery-powered Christmas lights I carry in my 30D bag, and wondered what a slow dance with them around this spiral in the high grass would look like. It looks awfully good in my mind's eye. I do a little test dance in my kitchen with my Christmas-Lights-On-A-String. Looks good here. The Mustangs Mountain are an hour and a half away. Hmm. I hope the storm that's coming up from Mexico takes its time.

       The Mexican clouds did roll in, but it didn't really matter. The shot I got the night before was just fine. I did shoot with the Christmas lights but it was clunky and ill-timed. And this afternoon ended up being about Forgiveness and not about Photography.

       While hiking today, up a canyon that was new to me, I started speaking to God. I do that sometimes. It helps me release feelings and gain insights. Old saying: If I live only with my feelings and have no spirituality, I'm ruled by my emotions and I have no perspective. If I live through Spirit alone, without feeling my emotions, I'm stuck, arrogant, and in denial. But when I live in that middle place between God and Passion, I have them both, and I feel balanced, centered, generous and hopeful. That's what happened today in that side canyon. I expressed forgiveness to a musician friend who inexplicably axed me from his life a few years back. I felt forgiveness for a long ago lover, who was sweet and kind, but who wasn't in love with me even though I wish she had been. And I gave myself a break, letting go of some judgments about my mismanagement of money, about my inability to age gracefully, and about some of my shortcomings when dealing with family. When I got to the dirt spiral just before sunset, I realized that what I needed from the Mustangs had already been given to me. No photographs were needed. Again, I did shoot some nocturnal images, but it wasn't the night for circles of Christmas lights over a dirt spiral. It was a day about letting go and forgiveness. But I did play "Cut The Tent" on my mandolin in the stunning purple dusk, and I did call a friend on my new cellphone to tell her how beautiful it was in the Mustangs. And I did leave smiling with a cloud-fuzzy Full Moon rising in the eastern sky. 

"Picasso's The Lovers" (c) 2008

"The Lovers, National Gallery, Washington, D.C." [detail] (c) Pablo Picasso; Photo by Stu Jenks 2008

"Blue Man Group In Tucson" (c) 2007

"Blue Man Group In Tucson" (c) 2007 BMG & Stu Jenks

[Images: "Blue Man Begins", "Up To The Roof", & "Floppie The Banjo Clown"]

       The first time I saw Blue Man Group, I cried. Halfway through the Vegas show, it hit me that hundred of people were paying a hundred dollars a head, to see really good Conceptual Art. (I told a joke back in my Art School days, about my weird-ass performance pieces. That Conceptual Art is Stand-Up Comedy that isn’t funny. Not true for BMG.) It moved me to tears, watching the funny and poignant Blue Men, silently comment on Art, Consumerism, Relationships and many other things, in a comic and beautiful way. At $100 a pop.
       A few years ago, I saw them again in Phoenix, when they were touring their Complex Rock tour, a parody of the Rock Concert experience. The drumming was great, the band was hot, the Blue Men were very funny but the crowd sucked. When asked to stand up and participate by the Men, Annie and I were the only ones out of hundreds in the audience to get up and rock out. Fucking Phoenicians. They sat there like they were watching television. Venus Hum and Tracy Bonham performed too, alone and with the Blue Men. Overall, it was a really fun night.

       Last week, out of the blue, I got a free ticket to Blue Man, to see the 'How-to-be-a-Megastar-tour' as it came through town. I saw that they were coming months ago but I couldn't afford the 100 bucks, not with all the credit card debt I was carrying. Except for the addition of Floppie the Banjo Clown and the hiring of studio musicians to replace Venus Hum and Tracy Bonham, it appeared, from looking online, that it was basically the same show I saw three years ago. Noticing that Blue Man had fan-taken photos on their website, I talked myself and my camera into the Tucson Convention Center. (The ticket taker didn’t want to let me in but when I said “They are encouraging people to take pictures on their website" he relented. What I didn't tell him was ‘Every image on the Blue Man website, submitted by fans, was taken with a piece-of-shit cell phone camera, and I have a Canon 30D in my bag.' I left out that little bit of information.) I went to my seat but it was next to a couple in their sixties, who looked very out of place. An American 21st Century phenomenon: The Retired Rich, bored, looking for something, anything to do, go and experience Culture. For them, it's like looking at monkeys in the zoo. We talked a bit, and I was nice enough, but the guy keeps reaching for his Blackberry, checking the score of the Packers’ game. The Arena was only half full so I went up and moved more toward backstage and found a great seat. And since I’d seen the show before, and it was basically the same, I focused as much on the band as I did on the Blue Men. I got to tell you, having professional studio musicians, rocking out, is a beautiful thing. The band consisted of two guitarists, two keyboard players, a bassist, two vocalists and three drummers. Counting the Blue Men, that's six percussionists playing at some points in the show. Personal favorite moments were the song “Up To The Roof” and the banging of the big drum during the opening number. “I Feel Love” wasn’t a bad performance, but it was nothing like the electric singing of Venus Hum a few years back. All in all, I had a good time.
       Then yesterday, a bit of the shine came off of the apple of Blue Man Group, when I dug a little deeper online.
       Long and short of it, Blue Man Group (BMG) has a history of being union busters. They hired non-union labor in Toronto in 2005 when the big permanent show went there. That ain’t great. But the real travesty is when they moved their Vegas show in 2006 from the Luxor to the Venetian, they opted then to go non-union, leaving their crew that came from the Luxor, who were union, without health insurance and pensions. The workers organized and became members of Local 720 of the IATSE, but BMG refused to talk with the workers and they have been fighting in the courts ever since. I’m a Union man myself. I don’t like every Union but I believe in the principle and the need for the worker to be protected from The Man. My Dad once said, “If Management is doing their job, there is no need for Unions.” But as his son now adds, “Management, these days mostly, ain’t doing their job to help and care for their workers. We are back to being cogs again. So Unions are necessary.” And specifically what I have against Blue Man Group is that the three guys who started it, and their investors, have been making money hand over fist, since 1991. Share the wealth, pals. Don’t be a dick. As I've said often of the greedy, "Just how much money do you need? I won't buy you Love or Happiness. Comfort, yes, and a good blowjob, but not Love. Not Happiness!"
       I still love what Blue Man Group produces, but I won’t be giving them anymore of my money, via tickets or CDs or DVDs, until they recognize Local 720 in Vegas. But I'd be dishonest to say I’m unhappy that I got a free ticket to Blue Man Group last week. I had a pretty good time. Now, Floppie and Blue Boys? Do the right thing and pay your crew union wages and give them health care too! You've got the coin.

"Wheel" (c) 2005 Edgar Heap of Birds

"Wheel" (Detail) (c) 2005 Edgar Heap of Birds (Hock E Aye VI), Cheyenne/Arapaho, b. 1954., Porcelain Enamel on Steel, Denver Art Museum.

NAH-KEV-HO-EYEA-ZIM
(Cheyenne meaning: "We are coming home again at last.")

"The Medicine Man" (c) 1907 Edward S. Curtis

"The Medicine Man" (Detail) (c) 1907 Edward S. Curtis, Denver Art Museum

[Appears this was a Lakota named Slow Bull. Curtis wrote, a hundred years ago, "Invocation and supplication enter so much into the life of the Indian, that this picture of the grim old warrior invoking the Mysteries, is most characteristic." Curtis has been criticized for over-romantizing the Indians. You think? Invoking the Mysteries, eh? I think, at the time, he was posing for you, Edward. My guess is he wasn't praying at that particular moment. And obviously, I don't buy it that Indians are intrinsically more spiritual than anyone else. They just pray in a different way. Ain't no better or worse than a Buddhist meditating in a temple, a Catholic praying the rosary, or a Alcoholic saying the Serenity Prayer. Irregardless, he did take some very nice photographs, even if they were mostly fantasies. And I enjoyed taking this image at the Denver Art Museum, knowing that this image sells for a boatload of cash down the street, and given the generosity of the Museum, I was allowed to take the picture for free.]
 

"The Neo-Cons and the Con-Temps " © 2007

"The Neo-Cons and the Con-Temps " © 2007

Top Image: "Last of the Great Buffalo Hunters" (Detail) [Paint, Leather, Ceramic, and Glue on Wood] (c) 1987 Robert Arneson, Denver Art Museum. Below Image: "Feather Sculpture #2" (Zoom Fuzzy Detail) [Willow, Feathers, Buckskin] (c) 1994 Truman Lowe, Denver Art Museum.
 

Contemporary Artists are the Neo-Cons of the Art World. Not that much difference between them and George Bush and his minions.

Now that I have your attention, let me explain and let me define a few terms too. And maybe give you a message of hope for the future of Art too.

Modern Art is pretty much everything from the late 1800's up to the 1970's. From Picasso to Pollock. Also Matisse, Calder, Warhol, Christo, Arneson and everything good and powerful in between. Modernism dealt with the ideas of abstraction, emotion, and life in the modern world, but it still had an eye for design, color and form. Contemporary Art, on the other hand, is Stuff that is called Visual Art that comes out of New York, Los Angeles, London and a few other U.S. and European cities since the late 70's and 80's. It's about some sort of idea about something, usually shocking or political, and has absolutely nothing to do with Beauty and very little to do with Design. The idea is the thing, what the eye sees is secondary. Most everyone who isn't involved in the Art World thinks it's pretentious, or meaningless or ugly, or all the above and most times they are right. Those inside the Contemporary Art World see it as cutting edge and original and forward thinking, and they are only right about it being original. Each bowel movement is different from the next. Same can be said about most of this shit.

People say it's not Art. They are wrong. It's Art. It's just bad Art.

[Brief aside: It's seem bizarre to me that people call Bad-Art, Not-Art. If you go to a crappy movie, you don't come out and say 'That wasn't a movie.' If you go to a concert and it sucks, you don't say that it wasn't music. You just say that it's shitty music. Only visual art has this distinction and it think I know why. Because people hold Visual Art up to a higher standard, to an almost religious height, which makes sense since some of the most beautiful Art ever made was spiritual. We have higher expectations of Visual Art. It must be beautiful or at the very least well done and well produced. It must be transcendent. It must not be merely entertainment or a joke. It must be not just a bumper sticker or a sign that someone needs therapy. It should lift us up to be better or at least lift up our spirits a bit.]

And sadly, Art which was the primary source of human creation for thousand of years is now a distant 4^th at best, behind Music, Motion Pictures, and The Internet. The number of people that go to an opening at a small city Contemporary Art museum or gallery on a Saturday night is less than the number of hits I get on my little Stu-Blog in a day. Not that my blog is all that wonderful but you get my drift.

And why are they, the Contemporaries, The Con-Temps, like the Neo-Cons and George Bush? Consider this. The Neo-cons look like Republicans but they aren't really. They are not fiscal conservatives. There are autocrats. They are bullies. They will break the bank. Same said for the Con-Temps. They looks like artists and act like they like art but they don't. They like themselves and people like themselves and no one else. They are an exclusive elite club, like the Neo-Cons, in which members can only enter if they fit a very narrow definition of Cool. Preferably Cool with a lot of Cash. The Con-Temps aren't interested in Beauty or Peace or Building Community. They are selfish and self-centered, only wishing to build in their power, ego and prestige. Same can be said for the political Neo-Cons. Chaos, be it War or economic downturn builds more opportunity to make money from cronyism and from buying low and selling high. Same with the Con-Temps. Cronyism is a key. You sell each other shit. It's a visual circle jerk in which everyone must grab the cock of the guy next to him. And finally, there is an orthodoxy to both the Neo-Cons and the Con-Temps. It's my way or the highway. Believe in my socio/political worldview or my narrow artistic worldview, and everything is fine. But if you don't, I'll bring you down with bombs, bribery, or vicious ridicule. All with a smile of the self-righteousness on their face. No 'live and let live' in these folk. No love and tolerance from them. But they may give you a sales pitch that says that they do love and appreciate you and your differences. Don't believe it. They are either trying to take something from you, or force something on you.

And I'm not just speaking sour grapes. I was what they called a Conceptual Artist in Art School in the 1970's. Leashing myself to trees. Burying myself in fire brick in the center of campus while the cameras rolled. Painting outlines of traffic dead on city streets in the middle of the night, and getting in trouble with the law. I had some Big Ideas, and I had my shtick, my rap about those Ideas. But looking back, I had a couple of good pieces but most of my work was unfocused, marginally produced and smelled of Marijuana smoke. But even back then I wasn't completely sold on the idea, that The Idea was king and that The Visual was a serf you raped in the fields. I was making yearly pilgrimages to the Hirshhorn Museum in D.C. to see Rodin's "Burgher of Calais" and "Balzac". I've loved Calder since I was a kid. And my experimental 8 mm films from Art School did have some heart, not just brains.

Of late, I'm shopping around getting a book published of my Art and Words. Not going so well but I have friends who are helping. I may end up self-publishing at some point, when I get an extra 5000 dollars from somewhere. Anyway, the reason I'm working on books is I'm tired of dealing with the Entitled Rich (and I'm not talking about the Generous and Soulful Rich, so to my two rich Michaels I know, I'm not talking about you). I'm tired of them talking down my prices, of being fickle and arrogant, and I suddenly realized a few years ago that it's par for the course these days in the Visual Arts. I'm expecting a pig to be a pony. And I like books for I can sell them to people like me: the Struggling Middle and Working Class who always have enough money for a good CD, a good movie or a good book. I want to be another good book they can buy.

And I believe there is hope for Art. I hear that students out of high school are demanding that their university Art professors teach them how to draw better, sculpture better, craft better and if they don't, they leave and go to a school that will. I visited the Disney School of Animation in L.A. a few years ago and saw amazing draftsmanship on butcher paper hanging in the lobby after a critique. Master illustrators like Charles Vess are finally getting their due. Chihuly has a multi-million dollar glass chandelier in the Bellagio Lobby in Vegas. The elegant furniture of Scott Baker is winning awards. And Crane Day, weaver extraordinaire, can be found working magic with the mohair wool just ten feet from my studio door.

I think I'll to go to my studio now, and play my mandolin for a while. Play it through my Roland Cube with the Chorus and Reverb settings at 10 o'clock. My little ambient songs are quite pretty, I think, and quite Modern. And not Contemporary in the least.

 

 

"Indian Gothic" (c) 1983 David P. Bradley

"Indian Gothic After Grant Woods' American Gothic" (c) 1983 David P. Bradley at the Denver Art Museum.

"Jingle Jingle" (c) 1997 Judith Lowry

"Jingle Jingle" (c) 1997 Judith Lowry, Denver Art Museum, Colorado

[A homage to the murdered cousin of the artist. He, the cousin, was killed after he threatened to expose the corruption he found at an Indian casino. And almost needless to say, the painting comments on Indian gambling as a whole.]

"Standing Bear's Tipi" (c) 1884, 2007

"Standing Bear's Tipi" & "Cheyenne Coup Stick" (c) 1884, 1870s & 2007 Stu Jenks, Standing Bear and an unknown Cheyenne, Denver Art Museum

[Many thanks to Michael Doll, for being at his desk when I finally got cellphone coverage after days in Wyoming and in South Dakota without it. Not that it's that big a deal for me to not have the ability to chat and drive, but it was timely when I got the beep on my phone that said 'Yes, you can call now.' I was just south of Laramie, Wyoming. I'd done the math. I could get to the Denver Art Museum, God willing and the creek don't rise, by around 4 p.m. That would give me an hour to see their renowned Native American Art collection. It'd be fast but I could see the highlights, see the tipi I saw 18 years ago, experience an number of other things. I thought I'm not going to stay in Denver overnight to see the Art, for I had to get to the Great Sand Dunes and the San Juan Mountains the next day. This was my only time, my only chance. It's this afternoon or not at all. Michael answered his phone and while we were catching up, he looked up on the Internet to find out what time the Museum closed. If it was 5, I was fine. If it was earlier, I was fucked. He looked, he found, he said..."Says here the Museum closes at 5 p.m."...Hot damn. Thanks Michael for that and a hundred other things.]

[The next few posts, over the next few days, will be of my photographs of the paintings, sculptures and artifacts from the Denver Art Museum. (Oddly enough, you can take pictures in the DAM as long as you don't use a flash and the Art is part of their permanent collection.) Pictured above are Standing Bear's Tipi and a Cheyenne Coup Stick. The big question I had looking at the tipi was "How did they get this? Did they steal it? Did they buy it for pennies from a relative or from him? Did they just find it?" No answers. But it was beautiful and the paintings on the canvas of his recollections of his deeds in war were more moving than most of the Contemporary Art Crap you see these days. And the coup stick wasn't bad either.]

"One Penny At A Time" & "The Sale at BR-549"

"One Penny at a Time”

       I recently discovered something that is fun and sweet and profitable to boot, in a very childlike way. If you go online and preview a track from my last CD, “West of the Fire” on any of the major music download sites, guess what happens? Now I’m saying just preview the track and listen to a part of it for free, but not buy the track. Can you guess? I earn a penny! That’s right. I get a penny for every time someone pushing the ‘Listen’ button on one of my tracks on many of the legal download sites, like ITunes, EMusic, Rhapsody, MSN Music, CDBaby, etc. Isn’t that something? So if you want to help me to have a little more money to make a little more Art and Music, just go and hit those buttons. And it’s free.

“The Sale at BR-549”

       And in conjunction with the “One Penny at a Time” campaign, it’s that time of the year for my annual sale of photographs. This year, it’ll be simple. Everything is half price. Simple as that. But if I have to print something up special, it’ll be a bit more, but of my existing physical portfolio, which is extensive, it’s all half price.
       What does that means, as far as price and size of print go?
       Well, it’s like this. If you come by my studio in Tucson, all the large framed things on the walls are half off the price listed, and the unframed 13 x 19s Archival Inkjets in clear plastic with the cardboard back, that are normally from $100 to $200, will all be priced between $50 and $100. 8 x 10s normally between $20 and $45 will all be $10, and CDs bought in my studio will be $7. Also, I always have the odd-sized matted images at my studio as well, and those will be ½ off too. Now the catch is this. If you want me to ship them to you, there will be a shipping and handling charge, around $10 to $20 depending on what continent you live on. But if you come by the studio, it’s cash and carry. I’m at my studio many nights, at least for a little while, and almost every weekend night, way into the evening. Just call or email me if you want to come by. Also, I’ll be at my studio as part of the Tucson Open Studio Tour on November 10th and 11th  from Noon to 5. And the address for my studio is 549 N. 7th, Tucson, Arizona. It's the old Tucson Arts District Partnership Studios, the one with the quanset hut on site. Again, call ahead or email me and set up an appointment. That's the best way and I’m pretty flexible.
       So go to www.stujenks.com and to www.stujenks.typepad.com and check out my inventory. Both old stuff and new stuff are available. And go to any of the music download sites and push that button and you will give Mr. Stu a penny. One penny at a time. More Art, More Music, Less debt. It’s a good thing.
       Thanks y’all. And oh, this sale will go one through the Winter Solstice on December 21st.
       Much love and know that you all matter to me. And I say this every year, but I’m truly grateful to your partronage, be it with your kind words and praise (and helpful criticism too) or with your pocketbook and physical generosity. Both matter.

       Love, and Light,

       Stu Jenks
       BR-549 Studios
       Tucson, Arizona
       520-370-4797 (cell)
       stujenks@gmail.com

       P.S. I'll be out of town until the 21st of October, hiking the Black Hills of South Dakota, if the truck gets me there. Contact me about prints and studio visits after then.

"Stu's Fun Facts: The Pusch Ridge Rant" (c) 2007

“Stu’s Fun Facts #2: The Pusch Ridge Rant” © 2007 Stu Jenks

       [Image: "Pusch Ridge and Meghan's Hill"]

       Fun Fact #1: To paraphrase Henry Rollins, sweeping generalizations are never accurate but they sure are fun. I was politely corrected or confronted or something like that, about my generalization that Writers tend to be a more laid-back group than say, Contemporary Visual Artists. Well, I was told and I heard clearly numerous examples of crazy-ass writers behaving badly and I stand corrected. People are people, artist are artists. It has to do with the man or the woman, not about what they make.

       Fun Fact #2: How about a generalization that Crafts People are more fun than Contemporary Artists? Can I get an amen there? OK, OK. I’ll stop.

       Fun Fact #3: To flesh out something from my last Fun Facts, (Is this how it’s going to go, you might think? Is Stu going to now start explaining what he meant in a previous blog entry? They must an Web word for it.), when I said that a good number of Contemporary Artists have ‘mysterious sources of income’ and they let on like they make it from their product, I wasn’t criticizing the Old Money or the New Money that lets them make their Art. Frankly, I hope I get some family money someday myself (if there is any left). What I get pissed about is their unwillingness to be upfront about it, that I’ve never heard this once from these any of these folk that I know: “Boy, I sure am grateful my father left me all that money’, or “Thank God my wife makes a ton of cash as a real estate attorney”, or “Sure glad I have that trust fund.” Never. Nada. Ain’t heard them say it once. But I have often seen the smugness of their faces, and heard their subtle condescending remarks about those who 'don't make a full commitment to The Work.' That's code for meaning those who don't make Art full time aren't serious about it. Well, Fuck you. If I had $30,000 coming in from a trust fund, or someone else was paying my bills, I'd quit the day job tomorrow and make Music and Art full time. But that isn't the case. And again, I would love to have a lot of cash, but it ain't really about the money. Ok, a little bit, but mostly about the attitude of superiority. (Have you ever noticed that those that tell you to not worry about money are those who already have it?)
       And finally, you can bet dimes to a donut, I'd give credit to those who put the money in my pocket, if and when they did. I already do. Every print that's sold, every CD that's purchased is given with a big virtual sloppy kiss attached. Hell, I’ll thank my mother now too. She’s bought me my fancy Canon D30 for Christmas last year. I couldn’t afford the $1200 that camera costs. So thank Mary Jenks for many of the images you’ve seen on this blog and elsewhere in 2007. Speaking of Mary, she’s ____ years old and her health is dicey. Say a prayer for Mother Mary, if you are the praying type.

  Fun Fact #4: Speaking of Craft People, rent or buy “Craft In America”, a DVD of the three hour PBS mini-series. If you like beauty, good design, good people and a sense of community, watch this DVD. It has given me hope for the American future in the Visuals Arts. The Great White Hope of Art won’t be coming from New York or LA in the 21st century. She’ll be coming from Penland, or Helena, or Oakland, or Devon, or Raleigh, or maybe he’ll be coming from Alaska. Look for this DVD. It’s important, in a small way, as one of the Penland artists said.

       Fun Fact #5: The Boss has a new CD out, "Magic" it's called. It’s good. I'm not a person who worships at the altar of Bruce Springsteen, but he, like Neil Young, Bruce Cockburn or others, are still pushing their limits and looking at the world with honest eyes, and with wounded hearts. Plus they also know how to write a good tune. “You’ll Be Coming Down”, “Last to Die” and “Long Walk Home” are my favs.

       Fun Fact #6: “Deer Hunting with Jesus”, Joe Bagent’s book on the unspoken class war in America is infuriatingly funny and sometime just infuriating. Joe is the Progressive Prodigal Son who returns to his hometown of Winchester, Virginia. His distaste and loathing for greedy business men and women is only surpassed by his deep and honest love for Rednecks and for Good Old Boys and Girls, who he calls 'my people'. A great read but be warned. You’ll want to throw the book across the room at least once, but you’ll also laugh so hard you may drop it. And if you are a Southerner, you will get it like a Parisian gets cheese.

       Fun Fact #7: What’s up with all these shows on TV that are about the problems of the spoiled and horny Rich? Do we really need more Desperate Housewives and Husbands? Even the fun shows on HBO like “Californication” and “Entourage” are about the very rich. I guess the middle class, and the poor ain’t that funny anymore. Reminds me of the time of the escapist films of the 1930's.

       Fun Fact #8: If you live in Tucson, hit the Conrad Wilde Gallery this month. The collage, assemblage and mixed media show “Parts of a Whole” is wonderful. It’s worth going to see Catherine Nash’s dark but hopeful work. And Margaret Suchland’s correspondences, David Adix’s knifes, and Greg Stephens’ blood red collages ain’t too shabby either. The show will be up until October 27th.

       Fun Fact #9: Who in the fuck am I going to vote for in the Democratic primary? Fuck me. I hate to say this…I really do…but the Democrats are almost as bad at the Republicans. Selfish, disingenuous, about themselves only. I guess I’ll vote for Edwards, for he is the only one talking about The Poor, but I saw him speak a couple months ago, and I wasn’t impressed. Slick. Not much meat. A lot of air, too little fire. I’ll vote for Hillary if she is the eventual nominee but not now. I saw her speaking at a barbeque in Iowa on CSPAN yesterday and it was like watching an actress performing. Her voice was quieter, more modulating, more compassionate but as soon as she was done with the formal speech, she was back to shouting in that loud angry shrill to someone in the wings. I love her husband and how he speaks. I don’t love her. And Obama. Christ, am I the only one that see it as slightly racist that many Liberals are falling over this very junior Senator from Illinois, simply because he is Black. And a ‘presentable’ Black man too. Oh, he's black but not too black. I think Barack is a good guy, just not his time to be President. Be a Senator for four more years and then run. Richardson looks like he’s going to have a heart attack when he speaks, sweat pouring off his brow. Biden, my early choice, I now think is just plain nuts. The stuff that comes out of his mouth is sometimes bizarre. I like his Iraq Partition Plan but besides that I think he is one french fry short of a Happy Meal. And Kucinich. Dennis, just go and be with your gorgeous wife, fight for liberal causes and make a little cash. And what’s up with you saying “Thank You” after ever time you speak in a debate. You’re not a performer. You're not in a band, saying “Thank You’ at the end of a song before the audience applauds. Geez.
        So Edwards it is. For now. Can I vote for Elizabeth instead?

       Fun Fact #10: Greed and ignorance, unfettered and encouraged, will eventually kill our economy and diminish what's left of the Hopeful American Soul. It won't be a terrorist's nuclear weapon in Topeka. It'll be us. Americans will kill the dream themselves, and most won't even see it pass as they watch Russian porn on their Dells.

       Fun Fact #11: Fear is a useful tool that Republicans and some Democrats have used since 9/11 with great skill. You get the people scared enough and they will turn in their own grandmother if she says a nice word about Allah. You can also get Poor People to vote against their own best interest, with false hope, denial and fear. “Someday I won’t be working at Wal-Mart. I’m going to be a millionaire someday.” I actually heard that spoken once.

       Fun Fact #12: But there is hope, not in the big but in the small. It’s always been that way. A gentle word to a friend. A touch on the shoulder of someone who is hurt. A small check to The Food Bank. The laughter between lovers. The awe at seeing a desert sunset. Doing some heavy lifting for a co-worker. National healing may come from the initiative of bold leaders, but I won’t hold my breath. Most likely, it’ll come from the kindness, generosity, and soulfulness of a very good friend, an impassioned colleague, or a present and caring relative. One person at a time. I can’t give up hope, even though I'm close at times. I may be surrounded by a rude and sleeping populace but I’m committed to being awake, to being kind even when I’m mad, to being generous with what I have, and to living in the blessed and endless moment. That’s all we have, you know. Right here. Right now. Nothing else exists. And next time I’m worrying about my indebtedness or the selfish direction of this country, feel free and remind me, friend, that all that really exist is that sweet e-mail or that funny phone call or that pleasant face to face, I'm having with you.

[Image: "Daddy's got a new pair of boots" (c) 2007 Stu Jenks]

"Stu's Fun Facts: The Bisbee Mona Lisa" (c) 2007

“Mona Lisa, Bisbee, Arizona” © 2007 Stu Jenks

       [Writing teachers tell me to show not tell. Sorry. I feel the need to rant. This is a blog after all. So. Welcome to perhaps the first of Stu's Fun Facts. OK, not really facts. My opinions based on selected data that validates my point of view.]

       Fun Fact #1: “We’ll wait until there is more blood in the water, then we’ll step on their necks,” said a real estate developer friend to me recently. No sense of irony was in his voice, no emotion, very matter of fact. And he's not a bad guy.

       Fun Fact #2: Per the current conventional wisdom in the Psychotherapy Field, you don’t give Antisocial Personalities and Sociopaths treatment or therapy. That just gives them more tools to hurt people, and they also tend to fuck up a good group therapy dynamic. The only therapeutic regime that is recommended is to get them involved in small business and entrepreneurship. Seriously. There, they can be hurtful and cutthroat without actually cutting real throats. Plus they are applauded for their business acumen, thus feeding their huge egos.

       Fun Fact #3: Blood in the water is a good thing in American Business today. Probably always has been to a certain degree, but now it’s apparently the rule of thumb, not just what that bastard downtown did last week. Whatever happened to making a good product, providing a good service and getting a fair profit in return? Now, it’s buy as low as you can, sell as high as you can, and make as much profit as possible, screwing the people at both ends and the consumer in the middle. You’re considered a fool if you do otherwise.

       Fun Fact #4: So why does The World, Old, New and Third, hate us? Ain't because of our freedom or maybe it is, our model of a Free Ecomony. American Business has financially fucked and exploited most of the world since the end of World War Two. Buy their oil, their diamonds, their rugs, their trinkets for chicken feed; sell it in Americans for more than it’s worth. Ain’t unfettered Capitalism grand?
      
       Fun Fact #5: Old Southern Expression: You can’t worship both Money and God.

       Fun Fact #6: A good third to a half of all successful Modern and Contemporary Artists in America (and I mean those where it LOOKS like they are solely financially supporting themselves on their Art) have ‘mysterious sources of income’, namely trust funds, rich spouses or family, hidden investments, etc. They don't keep the wolves away only from the sale of their art, or from doing Have-Mouths-Will-Travel. Funny though. They never tell you this, nor admit to other income. They seem to have a need to impress upon you, that their Nightmare On A Wall that’s hanging in a gallery somewhere, really did sell for big bucks. Most artists in America have day jobs, or boring jobs, or teaching jobs, or design jobs, that support their passion for creating good Art and good Music. Me? I’ve had a day job for almost ten years now, that has allowed me to get 20 grand into debt, while I've tried making a ‘career’ i.e. Make money, or at least break even in the world of Art and Music. I’ve made some good work, gotten some good notices, met some wonderful people, and sold a few tunes and images, but I still have only a hundred bucks in my checking account until payday. And I'm still trying to get that book published. But I keep telling myself that it ain't about the money, but sometimes when I'm broke, it sure feels like it.

        Fun Fact #7: Romantic Love is a a Big Feeling with a Big Surrender with the added punch of Big Desire. Ownership is not part of the deal, even though many fuck it up by holding on too tight. It’s about Sex and Trust, a faith that you won’t hurt me too much. Not, not hurt me at all. Just not too much. Sounds easy, but it’s gotten harder as I’ve gotten older. I was more willing to jump hand-in-hand off the Cliff of Love with someone I barely knew, or kinda knew, or knew real well, back in my Twenties and Thirties. Now I'm 52. The heart has only so much tissue that can scar without it starting to get hard. But I still pull at my heart, stretching it as much as it’ll go, adding God's linament of Forgiveness to it, and love and trust as best I can. It's a good thing.

       Fun Fact #8: The Internet gurus may be right. YouTube videos and MySpace garage bands may be killing Art and Music. Then again, it wasn’t that long ago that a hundred Art aficionados and critics to New York and London were telling us what was Good Art and what was Bad music. The Web will either kill or free Art. Jury's still out.

       Fun Fact #9: And the bottom line is? It isn’t about the bottom line. It's not about the money. (Even though there is another old Southern Expression that says, that Money Makes Unhappiness Easier.) I know a good number of rich people, whose husbands, wives or children are distant and that they never believe they have enough. But I also know a good number of wealthy people who use their money for good, know that have more than enough, and have the love and respect of their neighbors, family and friends. And I can say the same of the poor too. I have a bipolor recovering drug addict friend, who live on SSI, but takes a good portion of that money so he can race his Hornet car on the dirt track by the dump every Saturday night. Now, granted, I do wish I had more money. Right now, it’s more hand to mouth than I like and I have no savings to speak off.  But I do have friends who love and care for me and I them, and occasionally I have a girlfriend who knows how to touch and kiss and listen and do that funny hip thing. I have a nice little Art studio, a cute little apartment, and food in the fridge. I have ears to hear to problems of my friends, lips to speak the truth when it is called for, and some level of compassion for even those I don't like very much. I have a 19-year-old truck that rattle and squeaks like a son of a bitch, but I ain’t taking the bus anywhere. And that old Pathfinder will take me to Owl's Head whenever I like. I'm a rich man, even if I have maxxed out a number of my credit cards.

       Fun Fact #10: The Beatles and The Christ were right. Love is the answer. To everything.

"Un Dios Feliz" (c) 2007

"Un Dios Feliz" (c) 2007 Stu Jenks

[For once, I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself, so you can have your own relationship with this image. Project away. It's a good thing. It's what you're supposed to do with Art. Bring yourself to the work, and hell be damned, what the Artist had in mind. Really.]

"See God, Kai" (c) 2007

"See God, Kai" (c) 2007 Stu Jenks

       John from Cincinnati tells Kai to see God. She falls back on her mattress and has a number of visions. Her many body piercings heat up. After Kai comes to, she asked John never to do that again. "See God, Kai," John says again. "If that's what it's like, I don't want to," says Kai. "That's what it's like," say John from Cincinnati.

       It's really late. Stu had a small pot of coffee earlier tonight, to get him here. The Full Moon has been waning now for a couple of days, so it's rising later and later in the evening now. It's been up a couple, three hours I reckon. Stu's using a small MagLite to navigate the trail. He's about a mile in. Seems to be going toward the second arroyo. Nope. He's turned off the trail before that. He starts walking North toward Finger Rock. He climbs over some small rocks, weaves his way through the brush. Over a few more rocks, around a few more cactus. After about ten minutes, Stu stops. He's looking around. He's now surrounded by Cholla, Granite, Saguaros, and Creosote, in a little natural bowl of Plant and Earth, with a dome of Sky overhead. He turns off his flashlight. He's just standing there. Then I see him smile.

       My eyes quickly adjust to the Full Moonlight, after I turned off the flashlight. I hold my tripod in my hand. My camera bag's heavy on my shoulder. Then I hears something. Loud and clear. More inside than out, but a little bit of both.
       "Welcome to Paradise," says a still quiet voice.
       I smile, find a piece of ground without Cactus, gently put down my camera bag and get to work.

"The Salon Des Refuses vs. The Arizona Biennial" (c) 2007

"The Salon Des Refuses: Dinnerware Contemporary Arts vs. The Arizona Biennial: Tucson Museum of Art" (c) 2007 Stu Jenks

[Art from top to bottom: Catherine Nash, "Pines at Night": Encaustic with Mixed Media: 2006 (Detail); Penelope Starr, "Stories Series 720": Mixed Media: 2007 (Detail), & Stu Jenks, "Cedar Breaks Star Circle, Utah": Giclee Print: 2007; from the Salon Des Refuses Show]

               I was all full of piss and vinegar two weeks ago, to write reviews of Tucson Museum of Art’s Biennial Show and Dinnerware’s Salon Des Refuses Show, but most of the energy and emotion of that opening night has evaporated like some much Monsoon rain off a hot summer Tucson street. But regardless of the lack of flame and fire I feel now, I still have some thoughts that I’d like to share.
               It won’t take too long.
               [Ok. It will. I have a lot to say. Big surprise.]
               I applied to the Biennial this year, like I do every two years. I got into the show in 1999, but haven’t since. I try not to be disappointed when I’m not accepted but I always am. I feel that I’m one of Arizona’s reasonably good artists and I know I’m not entitled to the recognition, but I still crave it just a bit. Like a child who seeks out his daddy’s never-coming approval, I seek admission in the TMA Biennial every other year and except for one time, Big Art Daddy has barred the door.
                I entered three pieces this year. Days before I found out whether I made it into the Biennial, I went to see the guest curator who judged the show, speak to the public. She was there with a couple other visiting museum curators and with Tucson’s own Julie Sasse.
                [Julie Sasse is the curator of Contemporary Art at the Tucson Museum of Art and is a fine artist in her own right. She is one of the most well rounded and truly open minded people I have ever known in the Art World. She appreciates Beauty and Design as much as she likes Statement and Idea. Thank God for Julie.]
                Julie moderated the panel discussion, asking really good questions, about Art in Central and South America, about the pressure put on curators to buy Art for their museums that fall into a certain approved genre by their museum boards, about the importance or lack of importance of Originality. Very good questions Julie asked. Really cerebral and frankly bullshit answers given by the most of the curators.  And one question really stuck in my mind.
               Q: Does an artist need to be educated to be a good artist? Does an artist need to go to a university or major art school and study art, in order to be a good Contemporary artist?
               Here’s the answer that the woman who judged the Biennial gave.
               “I know this will upsets some people, and when I said this a few weeks ago, I made some of my friends mad, but I have never met a good stupid artist.”
               Standing in the back that night, I thought, ‘Wow, what a pompous ass.’
               I left the panel discussion after about 30 to 40 minutes. They were still talking. I thought of staying just so I could ask this:
               “Yes, I have a question, and I know this is a leading question but I heard you say earlier that you’ve never met a good stupid artist but wouldn’t you have to agree that coming out of our university art departments, we have a plethora of bad, smart ones?”
               But I left and never asked the question. Mostly because I knew my motives sucked. I didn’t want to hear what the curator had to say on that question. I have an idea what her response would have been. I just wanted to tell her what I thought, and frankly, embarrass her or at least make her just a little bit uncomfortable, and that wouldn’t have been nice. My Southern genteelness wouldn’t permit me. So I left as quietly as I could.
               As I walked to the car, I thought it would be a miracle if she picked my stuff.
               A few days later, I found out the miracle didn’t occur. I was not selected for the 2007 Biennial.

               But that’s not the end, thanks to David Aguirre, Molly McClintock and the folk at Dinnerware Contemporary Arts, and again, Julie Sasse from the Tucson Museum of Art.
               Two years ago, the story goes that David and Julie put their collective creative heads together and came up with the Salon Des Refuses, a show of all those who didn’t get into the Biennial. Maybe it was primarily David’s idea. I don’t know for sure. Anyway, Julie gave David and Molly the mailing list of those who were rejected from the 2007 Biennial. David and Molly sent out letters saying roughly, if you, the artist, would like to, we, at Dinnerware, would like to have one of the three pieces that didn’t make it into the TMA show (preferably a smaller one for Dinnerware is on the tiny side). Please bring it by on such and such a date, we will put it on our walls salon-style and we will have our opening night after TMA has its opening on Friday, May 18th, 2007.
               I submitted something two years ago to the Refuses, but this year I took it too seriously, thinking I wanted to submit the actual piece that would have been in the Biennial to the Salon and thought it would take up too much space and be too costly too (even though I was more than willing to pay the hundreds of dollars to frame the image for Tucson Museum of Art, if I got into the Biennial, hypocrite that I am.) So I wrote David and Molly an email saying I don’t think I’ll be putting in a piece this year. From their return email, I could tell they were a little disappointed but accepting nonetheless.                 (David, Molly, Dinnerware and I have had a close relationship for a few years now. They have asked me on a couple of occasions to play ambient synthesizer music at openings. David in particular has listened to me rant about Anne Marie Russell and the insanity at The Toole Shed, prior to my leaving there. And I have donated some work to them for the semi-annual art auctions that partly helps to keep Dinnerware afloat.)
                Time past. I took pictures. I wrote. I sang. I worked. I kissed my girlfriend.
                Then one morning I was reading through the free monthly ‘Downtown Tucson’ newspaper, drinking a cup of Ike’s Coffee when I noticed a photo of some flowers that looked really familiar.
                Wow, that looks similar to one of my flower shots, I thought.
                I looked at the credit line. It said, “Stu Jenks shows at Dinnerware. Salon Des Refuses opens on Friday, May 18th from 7 to 9 p.m.”
                You sneaking wonderful son of a bitch, I thought, with the paper in my hand.
                I wrote David an email later that day saying I would bring something for the Salon, and gently chided him for the picture in the paper. I was actually very touched by it. We all had an Internet laugh over it. Molly and David are the best kind of Art Folk there are; cutting edge but inclusive; visionary but with a panoramic view not with a laser pinpoint one.
                Anyway, I submitted a smaller version of “Cedar Breaks Star Circle” to the Salon and let it go at that.

                The day of the openings came. Wearing my white Mexican Wedding shirt, I picked up my friend Cathy and we went to the Tucson Museum of Art. I had an invitation but it was still going to cost me 20 bucks for the two of us. As we walked up to the front door, a note proclaimed that the entry fees were waived for the evening. You can bet Julie had something to do with that.
                We walked into the main gallery of TMA. (For those of you who have never been to TMA, it’s a large concrete bunker of a building with a large open center that is created by a wide spiraling walkway that descends three stories into the ground. The art is displayed mostly on the outer walls but sometimes elsewhere too.) As soon as we walked in, we saw three good pieces, one an oil on canvas portrait of a teenage girl playing video games with a bottle of Black Jack by her side, “Abby Playing a Game” by Derek Wilkinson; a lovely black and white photograph of “Meyer Avenue” in Tucson by Ernie Cabat; and a complex four foot by six foot tapestry of very small thumbnail photos in neat rows and columns of “Everything in My Apartment” by Paho Mann. Mann’s piece I looked at for a bit, seeing dishes and shirts and books and chairs, all an inch tall. From a distance it was even better. But call me old-fashioned, old school, whatever. Only “Meyer Avenue” passed the test of ‘Would I Like That Hanging In My Bedroom.’ The first two were excellent pieces of art, but not for my apartment. I soon found that only a half dozen of the fifty artists’ work would past my Bedroom Test.
                Muddy abstracts that looked like a freshman U of A student had painted them, who really needs more therapy than another painting class.
                A huge expenditure of wood and material to make a very long desk with many finely crafted wooded file folder holders and neatly criss crossed lines of writing, hundreds of lines of writing, that by the artist’s own admission was about her OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder).
                Large color photos of elderly men and women in youthful poses and dress, to show them in a new light, but mostly the shots made them look exploited.
                A floor to ceiling installation of black dresses, mourning something. We weren’t sure.
                A finely and beautifully painted portrait of an Asian woman, but the vision statement said it was about Pain.
                Pain.
                Pain: first a joke, than a sad reality.
                Cathy and I were joking about how the first dozen pieces we saw after the first few at the top that we liked, were about Pain. We would look at a piece and I would turn as say one word.
                “Pain”
                “Pain,” she would echo back at me.
                We both would laugh.
                Then it became clear, painfully clear, as we descended to the bottom of the museum. 90% of the art was about Pain.
                Social, personal, familial, inner, outer Pain.
                [I’m