A pole, a wall and a metal box have recently been used as a stage to express strong and passionate ideas within the streets of Carlsbad. Iconic faces stare through empty eyes as passing motorists chat on cell phones and curse. A fist punches skyward in steadfast determination and the Statue of Liberty raises a cross.
Subversive Mag, a self published mag based on an alternative version of reality that is below the radar of dominate power, reaches out to Carlsbad with its cleverly designed wheatpastes, stencils and ideas.
Carlsbadcrawl sat down with Subversive Mag for an interview probing their methods and techniques…
As technology increases and space decreases, creative minds search for new ways to transfer ideas. Unlike the unthinkable years before the internet, today’s audiences are encouraged to seek information via the internet. When was the last time you saw an ad without a website address? An advertisement once relied on clever slogans and catchy icons to transfer ideas, but now are replaced by .coms in route to flashy websites with interactivity as nerve-wracking as a rotating labyrinth. Web addresses are thrown around our streets like worn out tennis balls and like frothing dogs, we bolt for each one; we catch it and we bury it deep within the folders of out bookmarks.
If the web is the new television and the television was the new print and print was the new word, then what is next?
Your home extends beyond the walls you sleep within. It meanders down the streets of your neighborhood and sits in your favorite cafe. It shuffles its toes along the moist shore and hikes through dusty Eucalyptus groves. It sloshes through marshes and hiccups in pubs. It cools you during the summer and protects you during the infrequent storm. It grabs you for an adventure and nurses you when you are ill. People come and people go, but for us locals who spend their mornings in the awakening streets and their evenings in front of glowing sunsets, the village is our home.
What do you love about our village? The old weathered buildings of the North End? What about the plump trees that hang over Grand? Do you spend your weekends in the locals shops? Have you been in the new Magic Shop or do you prefer staying outside and watching the locals? Who is your favorite local and what shirt is he buying?
A path traveled offers multiple opportunities for involvement and interaction. The sky changes colors as the sun yawns and flowers bloom like a thickening canvas. How often do you notice your surroundings and how much thought do you invest in your findings? Some rarely observe the everyday sites other than directional signs, stoplights and other obstacles of guidance. Art is omnipresent…look all around. Imagine if a mind was given the chance to wander along with destination-less strolls. What would your eyes find and how would your mind react?
Are you observant? Would you notice a painting hung in the streets? Are you part of the 4%?
“I don’t think that art can change the world. That’s not what art is about. Art is about creating images and passing on ideas. If it succeeds to make people think, even for a few seconds, it has done a lot already.”
A small group of artist first exhibited popular culture art in Britain in the mid 1950s. Such things as cars, electric appliances, pin-up models, pop singers, comic strips and magazine collages were all utilized as subject material for the germinating movement. Though it hadn’t grown into an international art movement at this time, some critics believed it had potential. Lawrence Alloway hailed it as something new and great and gave it the name Pop Art.
Art history influences everything from how we decorate our walls to how we dress. Images, ideas and past collectives, if not directly, indirectly influence the thoughts of today’s minds. Images of Warhol’s soup cans stir when walking down the chilly aisles of the grocery store and marching ants provoke thoughts of Dali’s Catalan landscapes and dreamlike imagery. Swirls of the sky above create memories of long stares into Van Gogh’s night and comic books relate to Lichtenstein’s dots and onomanopeias. A lame paint can spills on the road and visions of Pollock’s drips splatter through our minds. A lost ray of light navigates through the overhead branches and finds it way onto the ground igniting visions of the many specks of captured light rerecorded on canvases by the impressionists. Toddler doodles mirror the non-local colors of fauvism and wind-blown balconies animate stories of Calder’s mobiles.
Use these influences when in time of need. Resolve a creative block by referring to master’s projects. Flip through the pages of your art history books. Remember wanders through dusty antiques stores and the inspiring paintings you saw. Recite poems once told to you during strolls down the sandy sidewalks of Venice Beach and in smoky coffee shops.
Has the recorded history of your passions influenced your past projects? Where do you find that inspiring research?
Once upon a time there was a bored dumpster who had few friends. He faked cheerful smiles at passing motorists but only lured the undesired. He was alone besides a weekly visit by one whom stopped only to pick his brain and empty his thoughts. The local gardener seldom communicated more than a lashing wack across his shins. He lived in a back alley where a conversation was infrequent and a hug was foreign. Stray cats chased rodents under his gut and drunkin’ bladders cried on his shoes. The sun baked his face and faded his glow and his tears ran down the gutters.
While the moon squinted and the stars hid behind coastal fog, the dumpster was awoken by a hooded vandal. Like a toothless child stirred by the glow of the tooth fairy, the dumpster slowly yawned, but was overcome by dreams of better places, and fell back asleep.
Birds chirping and back alley dogs growling awoke the dumpster the fallowing morning. The sun still hid behind shadows and the air nipped with an early Spring dryness. As he smeared grime from his sleepy eyes, he began the day like the past many, alone and bored. Bearded men with fingernails as black as coal shuffled by him. Cars and bikes whizzed and the neighborhood stretched. The loud roars of twisting metal became louder as the dumpster’s sole interaction neared. Two gloved men bounced off his friend’s back like fleas off an ill dog. The dumpster’s hat was thrown back and his buddy began emptying the week’s filth. As he was lifted into the sky, he glanced in the windshield of his stout friend for his weekly reflection. Expecting the bland plane of deep green, he glared, but was shocked to find the scribbles of history, adventure and interest. Wild white curves created organic shapes like a drunk jellyfish. Drips flowed down his chin like the aftermath of your first chocolate sundae. More swirls, the color of frothing salmon, gave him asymmetrical sex appeal like that of a beauty mark. He felt different. He felt a story of the long-lived like wrinkles on the face of the elderly. He was intriguing. He glowed as each passing vehicle, neighbor, hobo and drunk meandered through the shadows of the back alley.
The dumpster smiled with his chin high. He invited passers to hear his story and hugged each before they left. He felt as if he had a purpose and it was to inspire, to encourage and to provoke thought. He was the back alley muse and no one could stop him.
He awoke each day early in anticipation of the next eyes that would be transfixed on his wild designs. His first guest was a lost puppy who sniffed the soiled mud beside a neighboring pole. Next was a young man with a wide grin who whistled tunes of a lucky night. Soon after, a white truck approached the dumpster. It skidded to a stop and two men with bright orange shirts jumped out. They didn’t want to talk and they never asked about the dumpster’s long life. Instead, with one fast gesture and little emotion, they smeared a sticky paint across the face of the dumpster, covering the swirling designs he had become so fond of. He grabbed his cheek as tears welled. He caught a short glimpse of his reflection in the window of the white truck as it rolled away.
The dumpster wept and the back alley gutters gushed uncontrollably.
A mind is like a front lawn on a brisk Fall afternoon and thoughts are the leaves that clutter it. Worries sway through delayed moments of contemplation and tumble through the numbing air when ripe or wasted. As the the grass becomes hidden and a path forgotten, a lawn no longer serves as a soft seat for a couple’s picnic or a smooth stretch for kid’s Slip n Slide. The grass, once green and sun soaked, becomes damp, dull and wilts under the weight of stress.
When does your mind become cluttered? Do you ever find yourself in a bubble? Do you find yourself trapped within a whirlwind of worries? How do you cope with stress? Entertainment becomes infrequent and long naps in front of a muted television monopolizes your free time. Crawls through the village become dull and bright colors fade. Thoughts multiply like wet Gremlins. Your last overdue bill overlaps late car payments and overtime is expected. Squeaky brakes taunt and looming deadlines gloom. How thick is your bubble and where is that needle?
How do you cope with a cluttered mind? What is your needle?
The rooms of the Getty Center Museum to the back alleys of West Hollywood, the trendy shops of Melrose Ave. to the melancholy streets of Skid Row; sites threw themselves at me as I explored the artistically diverse observations of Los Angeles.
Click HERE, or on the above design, to see the full story!
Predetermined parking lots slowly filled as flustered teachers and supporters gathered for a demonstration against the California school budget cuts. Overpasses filled as passing cars honked and disconnected youth yelled obscenities. For over an hour, each protester used their public presence to connect passing minds, project ideas and stimulate change.
Ideas spread like the giggles of schoolyard gossip. Minds become connected through the interest and excitement of a collective. People, when pushed, and ideas, when probed, unite in masses to project passionate beliefs. A critical mass, against all odds, has the potential to inspire change.
Like symbols hanging from wires or eggs hidden in our village, minds are connected through the placement, or presence, of ideas within our streets. T-shirts represent walking billboards and stickers are unintrusive thoughts. Like these unorthodox ways of marketing ideas, public demonstrations work the same way. A civic forum, in this case overpasses throughout our city, provided the opportunity to touch large amounts of minds in a limited amount of time. Resources were few, but the impact is infinite.
Birds flap their feathers through an explosion of color as the sun yawns. The horizon, cold and stormy, is connected to the near lagoon by a bridge of oranges and yellows. High above the mosquito laden water, a concrete foundation, once the bedrock of a delicate house, sits alone during this nightly spectacle of color. Like a widower in front of a vibrating television in a dusty living room, the foundation stares through hallow eyes. Droopy trees hangs low and weeds grow wild surrounding the light red concrete of the empty lot. Greens slowly melt off the surrounding trees as the sun bows. Overhead birds tag anticipating gnats as the day shift ends.
Carlsbad, lined with a long sandy coast and sprinkled with marshes and lagoons, provides nightly shows under the bright colors of each sunset. Colors streak across the sky, shot by contrails and greeted by clouds. How do you interact with you surroundings? We are given daily opportunities to engage in the natural beauty of our village. Do you notice the priceless scenes handed to you each day?
When you spot something intriguing, inspiring and beautiful, what do you do? Saying hello and nodding your cap is kind, but emotionless. Feed the flame that burns within. When something captivates, interact like its your last chance. Grab your muse by the hand, hold her tight and dance. Kiss her and whisper flirtations through her curly hair. Rather than a simple acquaintance, form a meaningful and fulfilling relationship!
How do you interact with beauty?
• 1 skateboard
• 1 ramp
• 1 camera with 10 sec. self timer shot
• 1 sunset
• 1 vision
Remember when a jar of change lasted weeks and splurging was adding cheese to a Famous Star. Whimsical laughs translated silly jokes and young minds told stories of ghosts and toilet-papering adventures. A long sidewalk was your highway and a sticker laden bike was your hotrod. Summer days invited hours of sandy toes and peeling shoulders. Life was simple, the mind was uncluttered and entertainment was found in the most unlikely places.
Seven smiling suns dance in a row as I read the weather page of the local newspaper. Rays beam in through my dusty window and I sip a glass of tap water and smell the stench of morning breath. The once familiar clacks of a skateboard rolling down a sidewalk fills the silence of the crisp morning air. A quick glance out the window catches the last skater of a trail of many.
Remember when you searched the paper for smiley sun symbols rather than the icons which describe your falling stocks. The sky once told you whether you were going to build a tree fort in the local grove or spend the day on the beach making drip castles, eating watermelon and exploring the surrounding lagoons. A vacation wasn’t a highlighted week on a calender; it was a 3 month stretch where the sun was a clock and the tides were your calender. Your briefcase was a backpack filled with a snorkel, a towel, sunblock, a PBJ, a skate tool and a handful of fart bombs. Your boss was your mom and your paycheck was a hot dinner. Your colleagues were your best friends and your only enemy was a running nose. A headache came from a monkey-bar accident and you still got rug burns. A beer was something your dad drank too many of and cigarettes were only for camels. Life was simple.
Stand back and reflect on your favorite memories. Think of what highlighted your summer days. Remember spending early mornings with your siblings browsing through Saturday morning cartoons, building rope swings and toilet-papering the house of a schoolyard crush.
When you remember a good one, share it and watch the smiles grow!
The opportunity to express ideas and beliefs is all around us. The walls we live within beg for decorations. The clothes we wear cry for accessories. Our bodies get inked with elaborate doodles and our bumpers become scattered with vinyl stickers.
Your vehicle of expression depends on importance and the size of the desired audience. Canvases with thick globs of paint might line the walls of your small ARTpartment, waiting for their rare viewing or your car might be jammed with overwhelming slogans and icons. Maybe your idea is an action and your vehicle is a stage. An elegant dance expresses the sensual grace of a ballet dancer and the weightless floater on a hollow lip showcases the challenging of one’s limits. Expressions might be less frequent, but just as important. Like the Bakawali flower, your idea might blossom once a year, but that one blossom might be as breathtaking as your first sunset.
Search the doodles that clutter your coffee table! Flip through the pages of your small black notebook! Filter your sent emails and analyze your favorite dreams! Pick an idea and a vehicle and begin expressing…
The blue sky hints warmth as feeble clouds blow form the sea. Spring greets with hearty handshakes and charismatic smiles arouse conversation. Flowers invite hugs as bees buzz like an unleashed dog frolics after finding a loose panel. The fireplace stays cold and the television sleeps as toes acquaint themselves with the salty tides of the warming sea. Wintertime thoughts grow into bright ideas like a blossoming Spring flower. Village streets feed on the creativity once hid away during the long Winter.
What ideas have you been hording? What do you plan on doing with them? If not hidden behind closed doors, where would you plant them?
Ideas grow in the most random places…Have you seen me?
An individual develops an idea within a protective layer of the mind. When ready, it slowly cracks the service like a curious chick and presents itself to the outside. It instantly drops into a new world where it is no longer the sole inhabitant, but one in many; a part of a well organized and slightly unnatural cluster of minds. This idea rides the currents of everyday interactions until it is chosen and lodged into a once empty location, a void lonely and eager to be filled. Like a puzzle piece, it interacts with its neighbors and ultimately helps create a larger picture.
The question is not the idea, but the puzzle. What puzzle do you want to be part of? How will your piece interact with others? Will your finished puzzle promote help, will it ignite change or will it provoke thought? Do you feel like you are a piece in a non existing puzzle? Are you a floater? Some pieces get lost. They journey and find themselves in communities where the overall picture is large, strong, but different. Ideas are not always accepted by others, but like a weed, they can grow and eventually influence. In time, you might find your puzzle or you might create your own.
A puzzle, a garden or a community all have a set of ideals where the outside piece, weed or member is ignored, refused or “weeded”. You may be a corner piece in a puzzle with already 4 corners or a weed bullied by fat vegetables. You may find yourself fighting the current or running against the grain, but with passionate dedication and creativity, you might one day find yourself growing atop those whom once shouted STOP.
Published April 5th, 2008 in art and events.Closed
From the Getty Museum to the streets of West Hollywood.
What will I find?
The prestigious hallways of a the Getty Museum will be the beginning of my adventure through Los Angeles. Paintings that fill the books we read and the images we copy will be observed as a way to ignite my senses. My eyes will yawn and my mind will become warm with each thought. Later, the raw of the city, the grit of the street, the underbelly of fame will be my playground. My wanderings will be guided by curiosity and my observations will be documented through thought and photos. I wander with nothing more than the will to explore!
A pole, a wall and a metal box have recently been used as a stage to express strong and passionate ideas within the streets of Carlsbad. Iconic faces stare through empty eyes as passing motorists chat on cell phones and curse. A fist punches skyward in steadfast determination and the Statue of Liberty raises a cross.
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