Sunday, October 28, 2007

Secret Collect Color

Lately I've been trying to balance natural and artificial colors. My work has gone in color cycles over the last few years: Monochromatic pieces (lots of white added), Stained glass type scenes with nature themes (sunset, night, forest, garden),
Mostly white pieces with bursts or partially hidden deep hues... and recently mostly white pieces with sharp bits of super high-key almost flourescent colors. The contradiction which I tend to like is that my imagery is becoming more polarized than ever.
A few pieces are all nature and sex, the next few pieces will be overlapping arrangements of machine guns. However, I treat it all the same. Four out of Five pieces I make lately are mostly subtle whites with bits of radiant color bursting out.... Sex and violence I suppose. I love not planning bodies of work. I love the conversation the works have from piece to piece and what the majority consensus is after six months or so. But now I have to plan where bodies of work (or a few at a time) are going physically. It's a blessing and a curse.
I think of a body of work (a solo show or something) as an album. My favorite band Yo La Tengo does it best - check out
I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass. The flow of different moods, tempos and suggestions is brilliant!
Seemingly different sounds but the heart is still the same. But can I make a whole body of work, let's say for a show in London this March, with the same songs? The mostly subtle, gently complicated ones with loud chords piercing through here and there? I'm concerned about the artificial colors, I admit it. Here are a few recent examples:


Then this morning I happened to be looking at a Duccio Catalog. You know, the italian renaissane painter.
I used to like him a lot but not for color, instead for weird use of miniture toy-like cities with godzilla sized characters
stepping over mountains. Maybe it was my super-charged caffiene buzz or something but I noticed all the highly saturated, almost unnatural colors.... especially if I put my eyes real close. So then I put them even closer by scanning two images and blowing up the color...


...and this is Christ's blood blown-up...


I realize that I'm looking at an enlarged reproduction but I think the idea is clear. They seem unnatural at first but then
think of what a sunset looks like if you break it down, or an autumn leaf, or areas of skin during different physical and emotional states of arousal. I don't feel much more resolved but I certainly am more interested. Let's see what's next.

p.s. you can see what I'm up to at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/aaronwexler/
http://aaronwexler.com/

Friday, October 19, 2007

Have Wheels, Will Travel.



Last weekend I went to a wedding. It was the first one I had been to in a while. Previously I was on the part of the friend cycle of showing up for "happy divorce drinks" or "baby is coming/baby is here showers". A good old fashioned wedding was a refreshing idea especially with my oldest friends involved. I thought maybe that seeing two people completely in love, sharing vowes in front of a packed house would lift my spirits about my own romantic situation. It actually did in a really round-about way that took not just the length of the ceremony and party but 24 sleepless hours and a death-defying journey.

I don't drive. At least not very often. The death-defying aspect of my story involves what some people do every day:
Turn the key and go. For me it was turn the key and hope that a full nights sleep + chamomile tea + 2 cups of coffee + yoga produces a driving friendly safe effect of valluum and smack. Try breathalizing that one. I was surprised to be in Times Square picking up my rental car at 7am in such a state but even more surprised that Marie at Budget Rent-a-wreck pointed me towards a car least likely to be mine. A fire engine red Mustang muscle car. The kind you might imagine a blond in a neon bikini stretched accross... "come hither and take me... not you dork, the guy in back of you". Nope, nobody in back of me and I had the keys.

I was lost roughly 10 minutes out of the Lincoln tunnel. I blamed mapquest. I cursed. I drank more coffee. I asked for directions once I found myself back in New York... and not on my way to Lambertville. That's what you do in life though.
You get lost, feel stupid, take some substace, get directions and get back on track. I made it to the wedding on time!
A mustang really is a fast car ya know.

Fast forward to later that evening, not because the wedding wasn't fun but because it was fun and I'm telling the story of
near hysteria. Near hysteria which happend on my own time - 4:30am. Earlier in the day I drove some friends back to their bed and breakfast called "the wishing well" some distance away from the Lambertville Inn, site of the wedding.
I left the car there thinking it was safer than a lot. It didn't seem far on foot at 2pm on a pretty autumn day after lunch but
at 4:30am dark, on empty rural streets, freezing cold? Not even close. May plan which I successfully carried out until this point was to crash in Lynne and Carrie's room for a few hours, walk to my car and drive back to Manhattan by 7am.
The hour of 7am was so important because if I returned the car late Marie at budget rent-a-wreck was going to take my wallet, max out my visa on late fees and maybe cut off a toe for good measure. Plus I had this rediculous idea that not getting the car back on time and in one piece would signify my inability to handle an adult situation. Not to mention my inability to masculenley master a muscle car.

At 4:30am I was lost again. No idea which direction to walk in. Why didn't I write down directions to the wishing well?!
Where is my mustang? Where am I? Crap, there goes my little toe. Aren't there any cops in this town? or semi-drunks on the street? or nice loitering gang members? This isn't Brooklyn! Eventually I saw a minivan. I ran up to the driver (I must have looked like an artsy crack-junkie) and asked directions to the wishing well. "Uh, what?". He didn't know but I did suddenly remember that it was near a WaWa. To you non-philadelphian's WaWa is a SevenEleven with a canadian bird as a mascot. The minivan was packed with fresh bagels. The driver told be that he'd take me to WaWa (now 5am) but I'd have to make some deliveries with him first. Okay, I thought to myself, he's delivering bagels to local restaurants alone in a van how dangerous could that be?.... It didn't take long for me to realize I knew the real answer to that question.
However, after some drop-offs he did as he promised and I found myself at WaWa. I set out towards the directon I thought maybe was correct. Nope. Walked in another direction. Nope. Ran in another direction. ut-oh. I'm lost in the dark-on tiny rural streets-at 5am-freezing-too far from town to have any clue about where to go. I even tried trespassing on property thinking oh, I just don't recognize the house in the dark, I'll get closer and maybe see the mustang, it was fire engine red. But everytime I got close to a house the motion sensor flood lights snapped on. Oh no the Nazi's! O.k. not
the Nazi's (I'm only half jewish anyhow and the wrong half at that). The last thing I needed was to be a suspect in a petty breaking and entering senario. Or to have a shot gun pointed at me... "what are you doin out here city boy?.... bring out the gimp".

A funny thing happend to me while running around out there in the dark. I can do this. I will be fine. I became calm.
I even started to laugh a little. I experienced sudden euphoria. If I was really dramatic (yeah, shut-up I know I am),
I would have exclaimed something like "I feel so alive!!!". But like I said, I am half jewish and a more appropriate exclaimation would be "I feel so not self-depricating!!!". I also realized I needed to see someone back in NY as fast as possible.
A loved one I had unfinished business with. That's a whole other story.

I walked back, urgh, to the WaWa and asked a fireman who happend to be there sipping coffee for diretions to the wishing well. He knew it! He know how to get me there! and I did! I found old tangy, turned the key and launched in to outer space... by outer space I mean route 29 East.

Bad hip-hop and maximum volume on the stereo at 5:30am never felt more energizing. After all, "I felt so alive!!!".
I didn't even get lost. I ignored the speed limit, ignored the past few hours and ignored my uspset stomach which needed a bit more than coffee and the aftertaste of whiskey. Go muscle car, go!

I had "one of those moments" approaching the Manhattan skyline. One of those sublime beautiful moments.
Coming up the ramp before desent in to the Holland Tunnel the moment was perfect. A lionel hampton xylophone
solo was playing my soundtrack and the sun was just barley birthing behind the empire state building.
It was so fucking beautiful I even cried a little. Don't tell anyone that last part. I still love New York
and I still love someone else...

I returned the car at 6:59am near times square on 8th avenue. Marie was proud... or indifferent, I dunno I still
had my toe. The nasty, gritty porn part of times square is not what it used to be pre-Guilliani. But that morning it was.
With Times Square arguably the center of the free world as my backdrop I walked down 8th Ave. Along the way
I was propositioned by more prostitutes then there are in Thailand. "Hey baby, want a little fun?"... "no thanks but thanks for asking". I had business to take care of. Something felt new. I don't believe in fate but I do believe some things are already scripted, more like a movie. Rolling..... Action!

Friday, October 12, 2007

Is this the End?

*my opinion* - Philly, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Detroit, L.A. - everyone says the same damn thing in certain parts of the city. There is a total sickness going on in this country - my opinon. People (such as this young gent below) are so fucking spoiled in the richest country in the world they have no fucking idea what it's like to live in a poor- third world country.
If you are free, english speaking, have at least a highschool education - you have a choice! Specifically you have a choice when you turn 18. Nobody has to live this way forever.
People like Andre are chemically addicted in their brain to feeling this way. Not kidding. It's like
the partner in an abusive relationship that keeps going back. Dysfunctional relationships (probably like many parents of these kids - trust I came from one) are amplified in to the way neighborhoods destroy themselves. There's no real community, no respect, no trust and seemingly no hope. Education sucks in inner-city public schools (I also went to one)
but education doesn't begin and end in the classroom. Welfare does not solve problems. Teaching skills, trades and new perspectives will. But tell young Andre that.... nope, he's too busy blaming other people, feeling like a victim, addicted
to feeling dispair.
If you think I'm being a little extreem, ask a socialogist, ask a neurologist, ask a kid who came from that neighborhood
who rose above it, ask Chris Rock, ask Barak Obama. My sister grew up in South Philly and I grew up in West Philly - ask us!
I'm so fucking sick of the cycles that I see happening over and over again. Kids fall in to crime because they think it's the
only was to "survive", "get ahead", "go get what's mine" - then they get innocent people shot and killed, even family. Then
they go to jail. Then they get out and mostly get looked up to by the younger kids. The culture Andre is talking about
is a culture that emulates and glorifies jail culture. It's a a badge of honor. Even worse lame-ass entertainers sell that
shit right back to them. They're paying money for the stories of their own deaths. That's fucking sick!

Does Andre or Anderson Cooper or the editor of this article mention Health Care? Education? Religion?
Nope. Dumb asses. It's a shame. I feel bad for the state of things. I feel bad that people like Andre see no positive way out.
I've lived in Philly, Chicago and New York and it's the same sad story everytime. What is going to take to change
the way these kids get neurologically hard-wired?

Here's the article:

PHILADELPHIA, Pennsylvania (CNN) -- On the streets of Philadelphia's toughest neighborhoods, just trying to get ahead can get you killed.


Andre, a 17 year-old from Philadelphia, has seen his brother shot and killed, and has been wanted for armed robbery.

"You got a good-looking girlfriend, you're going to get shot; someone wants her," said 17-year-old Andre, who asked his last name not be used for this article.

"If you're getting a little money, you're going to get shot -- someone wants that. Any way you look at it, it's just a bad situation."

Andre is caught up in the tough life on the streets of Philadelphia's Southside neighborhood. At 13, he watched his brother get shot and killed in front of his home by another teenager. By 15, he was wanted for two counts of armed robbery and theft.

"It makes you feel stronger, powerful, a bigger man," he said of having a gun. "You even walk differently when you have a gun on you."

He and others like him are the new face of violence in Philadelphia -- a younger, harder generation that lives and dies by the gun. Though it's spread throughout the city, the problem of youth violence is most acute in the southern, southwestern and northern parts.

Over the past couple of years, Philadelphia's murder rate reached highs not seen since the 1980s, according to the Philadelphia Police Department. So far this year, more than 315 people have been killed, a pace of well over a murder a day, police said. That's a higher rate, according to FBI statistics, than much larger cities like Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York.


'Anderson Cooper 360'

Bloodbath in the City of Brotherly Love. An "Anderson Cooper 360" investigation.
Tonight, 10 ET

see full schedule »

But Philadelphia's situation is different today from years past in that more and more of the killers are teenagers, according to the Philadelphia Police Department and the Philadelphia District Attorney's office.

"They just shoot at anything and everybody, without even looking," said Shawn Banks, a former drug dealer and gang member. Now in his 30s, he said the new generation that rules the streets is made up of kids who shoot first and never consider the consequences.

"They [are] not respecting themselves and they don't have any value for human life," he said.

Nineteen percent of those held at Philadelphia's overcrowded juvenile detention center, The Youth Study Center, are guilty of committing violent crimes. This is in addition to those juveniles serving time at a nearby adult facility for more serious violent crimes like murder. Nearly one in four juveniles at the center become repeat offenders.

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Staff members at the youth facility said whenever a teenager makes headlines, chances are it's someone they know.

Helping kids at the center can be difficult, according to some.

"Maybe they're here for 9 -12 months, but if they spent 13 years in an environment that maybe isn't good and has a bad influence on them, you're going to lean on those 13 years," said counselor Nelson Walker.

But the office of Philadelphia Mayor John Street said the city works hard to reach high-risk kids.

"We are not going to deny that we have a problem here," said Joe Grace, spokesman for the mayor's office. "And we work aggressively to work with young kids who we consider high risk."

Grace touts the Philadelphia anti-violence, anti-drug program, which targets kids who have been through the justice system and are on probation. The city tries to help them avoid becoming repeat offenders.

As a caseworker meeting on a daily basis with juvenile offenders, Shondell Revell knows what the streets can do to a young person.

"These kids are hard, because their neighborhoods are hard," he said. "They don't see the other side of life."

Reaching out to younger siblings of juvenile criminals is particularly important to stopping the cycle of violence, said Revell.

But Andre says the pull of violent street life is strong and that offenders often end up going back to the life they knew in order to survive.



"Shooting, stabbing, killing, whatever it is -- whatever you gotta do to survive," he said.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Dear Diary


My favorite section of the New York times is not the Art Section, sorry Roberta. It's Dear Diary in the Metrosection (unless basketball season is in full swing - then it may be sports).
Each entry is submitted by someone who has had a truley quintessential New Yorkcentric moment. They are personal
moments defined by the collective chaotic consciousness of the city. These entries are also like snapshots.
Snapshots have a way of pinpointing or framing chance. I appreciate that people take the time to share these moments,
especially in a venue that claims "All The News That's Fit To Print".

Friday, October 5, 2007

Children tell the truth.

"...I Meant Nowhere White People Would Want to Go"

Blond Tourist Bimbo: I've never even heard of the G Train.
Blond Local Bimbo: Yeah, it's a ghetto train.
Blond Tourist Bimbo: Where does it go?
Blond Local Bimbo: Nowhere.
Black eight-year-old boy: Except my home, bitch.

-G train Hoyt/Schermerhorn station
- thanks Overheard In NY.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Sunday, September 30, 2007

New Work



44" x 66" Acrylic and paper collage on panel.