Wednesday, December 19, 2012

A few images, a day in the life

As I prepare to make my way out to Los Angeles for the Extreme Futurist Festival, I wanted to share some of the sketches I've been making at the cafe, and images from the work I'll be debuting at the convention. I will also be unveiling the first of a series to be released on canvas... stay tuned on that, they will only be available to purchase at the events or at the galleries they wind up in.

Look for the first official launch party in Philly in January on that note... and please support the work. I already tried to go into hiatus once but the work just drew me back in. However, my back and the fibro does make certain demands. I'll keep fighting. I'm just too stubborn to stop, and too stubborn to not keep up the fight. But this work needs to reach a certain level for it to be closer to sustainable. ("Closer to" -- all of us die. Nothing in terms of a single human life is "sustainable.")

And for now... 3 and 1/2 hours before the taxi arrives and I make my way to the Philly airport. Wheels up at 6am. Expect a pretty regular chronicle of the event on the Mythos Media twitter. I hope to see some of you at the Mythos Media table at the convention, at the parties that are sure to follow, or at the to-be-announced gallery releases in Philly!

Friday, December 14, 2012

Extreme Futurist Festival 2012


Extreme Immersion!

Are you a Futurist? Are you assured that we are going to burn ourselves out as a species in the next century? Are you an artist set on using these tools we have while we have the time, or an optimist set to create an army of Nanobots (or Nanobats, if you live in Gotham) that will cure cancer?

There is room for all these perspectives and more at this years Extreme Future Fest (EFF for short) being held in Los Angeles. And December 21 and 22 2012! What a time for it. End of the world, man!

This even will feature:
  •  Speakers (Randal A. Koene, Dr. Aubrey de Grey, Dr. Ben Goertzel, ...)
  • Music (Lydia Lunch, Negativland, ...)
  • Art (Kevin Mack, Shayna Yates, James Curcio, ...)
  • Films (H+ the Digital Series, Surf Now Apocalypse Later, Tragos, ...)
  • Vendors (Grindhouse Wetwares, Re/Search Publications, Mythos Media including the recent Words of Traitors and Rachel Haywire's Acidexia, ...)
  • ...and, you guessed it, a great deal more.
Not one to miss no matter your outlook. Find out more on the website, and show up if you can. You don't need to be a "believer" to show. Just pick up a ticket, bring equal parts skepticism and wonder, and the rest will be history.

See you there.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Schoolgirl Blues (excerpt)

Here is a free glance at one of the stories within Words of Traitors: 7 Lives In Transition. Which I am pleased to say is available in both print and digital formats! 

Suffice it to say that as a fully illustrated, full color book, half of the experience is visual, and this free text can't transmit that. You can see some  more of the imagery and layout in the previews to the pay PDF versions. 

I hope that you support the project and your own curiosity and order a copy. But either way, here's a short snippet of one of the more playful stories:

Model: Jaded Kitty Kimiko
---------
Lola Rose Parsons. Even back then she went by Lilith

I still try to envision her face. It's like trying to draw blindfolded. Of course I could just look at a poster—she went and got famous, or infamous, while I stayed in this same slowly-bloating suburban town—but I wanted to remember not what she had become, but instead how she was back then. I wanted every tiny detail, like the force of my will could peel back time if I gave it a little attention every day. I would get the arch of her eyebrow—just an eyebrow could telegraph such mischief and vulnerability—but which was the act? And then I'd move on to her eyes and get lost, or I would second-guess the eyebrow. 

It never came out quite right, so I had to start all over again. 

I guess memory is no great artist. Or maybe it is a far greater artist than I know. How could I be sure that I hadn't invented her, or constructed that week we spent together like I did her face in my mind, trying to turn these jigsaw pieces into a coherent image. And where was she in all this? Absent. 

She must have known she was trapped on the other side of the sob stories of so many ex-lovers, the one that changed everything and got away, giving that enigmatic Mona Lisa smile except when the fa├žade broke at that practiced moment. The self-aware Manic Pixie Girl, sixteen and already typecast, using the role for all it was worth. She used us all, and did it selflessly. I can't imagine how lonely she must have been. 

Let me actually start with some general observations that I’ve made. You know, in my “studies.”

Catholic school girls are pantomimed with the uniform, especially the skirt, and the stale virgin-whore affectation, but that’s costume. What is less well known: at least in our town, the Catholic girls always had the best LSD. They wanted to show you God so you could piss in his eye. 
So while most people think that the allure of Catholic school girls is the uniform, the image of them on their knees, supple supplicants—well, I can’t entirely deny any of that. But when all is said and done, you’re the plaything, not them. Those who know the fetish through porn only see a poor stereotype, generally portrayed by actresses in their twenties that don’t know a word of Latin, who couldn't shoot straighter with an AK-47 with a headful of acid than most mujaheddin with a headful of Allah. 

The playful, dead serious malice for paternal authority defined the real Catholic schoolgirl. FUCK GOD. Or so Lola had taught me, and since then she has built such an army of them that you could almost say she wrote the book on the subject.

One week was all it took. One week was all I got. She was fucking good, changing lives in ways that seemed reckless but I know now that there was a method behind it all—well, you'll see, if I do my part and get that eyebrow and eye right and can move on to the lips. 

The first week of September 2001 I was a sophomore. A virgin, which really meant less to me than it seemed to for others. I had never taken a drug stronger than amoxicillin, never committed a crime, and most definitely never been in love. It was August. The month before planes started flying into buildings.

By late September, I had broken 120 mph in a stolen car—she called it “borrowing,” and coaxed me into topping out the engine on a straight-away by pulling away her mouth whenever I relaxed on the pedal or showed the slightest slip in concentration. She watched me all the while, wide-eyed and gleeful, waiting an eye roll, a sigh, and she would stop. Everything was a test, a challenge. How close can you get to the edge and not topple over? It was Jedi training with blowjobs.

I had been party to a carjacking. Subcutaneous ketamine injection. That's a long story. I'd seen a shooting, felt true rage—just punching and punching until you may as well be pounding sirloin. By October, and for the first time, I'd had my heart broken.

The first time you fuck can mean a lot or it can mean very little. The first time you have your heart broken, or at least think it is, I think that changes a person. Always.

It was all a lot for a week—or was it two?—and this is the only excuse I can give for the fact that I’m still obsessed with a girl that I haven’t seen in a decade.

Order the book now: 

 Digital Copies?

$5.99 for Words of Traitors / $2.99 for Nyssa #1 (included in Words of Traitors.) 

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Internal Arts, now on Alterati


Internal Arts, a podcast / web video series will be running on Alterati over the next few months (possibly longer):
Internal Arts will be a series dealing with the creative process in its various guises: from meditative techniques to anecdotal material from independent artists. 
Whether you are a writer, musician, visual or film artist, or just want to learn a little about the ins- and outs- of the creative process from those who struggle to make a living at it, this show is for you. We will also often explore meditative and movement practices that might not necessarily seem connected with creativity or the arts at first glance. 
These are quite possibly more important than all the discussions we will be having about independent arts and media production, as they get us out of the 'the chair,' out of our heads, and back into our bodies. It is in and through our bodies, and nowhere else, that the true creative process begins. We are not brains in bottles. 
It's our hope that you will find these practices and conversations an indispensable part of your own practice.
If you would like to contribute to the show, contact James Curcio.

Subscribe on iTunes to this and other Alterati shows.