The Intrepid Day-Tripper.

Among my friends and family I can count a number of world travelers. It's not that I know a lot of wealthy people (although there are a few exceptions), but rather that I tend to hang out with folks who put a lot of value on this activity. I've actually gotten into quite a few conversations with them about why I haven't been overseas. For some reason, a lot of my buddies seem to assume that I've been to Europe. But the fact is that I never arranged things in my life so that I could undertake such a substantial journey. When I had enough money, I always had other plans. I'd find myself tied down by commitments, or want to save up for some large purchase. Consequently I have enough possessions. I just don't have any interesting anecdotes about foreign countries.

To be honest, there's another reason I haven't done any extensive traveling- I don't like to fly. Even before 9-11 I found the experience extraordinarily uncomfortable. My height always necessitated a request for an emergency aisle seat. This made the experience bearable, except for the added sense of responsibility that it placed in my mind. Unfortunately. the last thing you want to be reminded of when you are flying is that there might be a need for an emergency exit. A couple of times there were no spots in the 'special' row, and I had to sit in a fetal position for an entire flight. Another time I sat next to a born-again Christian with a golf obsession. All these factors contributed to a sense of foreboding. And then the planes hit the buildings...

So for the last several years, I've been confined to land travel. My wife does no highway driving, so that anytime we go on a trip I'm always behind the wheel. That puts limitations on my range. I can do about twelve hours in a day, and then I start going a bit nuts. I make up for these restrictions of movement with creativity. I have been to plenty of places that most Western Pennsylvanians would never consider visiting. This includes a Hare Krishna ashram, an abandoned reformatory, the world's largest indoor Bible wax museum, and Erie. Of course I've been to most of the notable cities within that range as well- New York City, Boston, Washington DC, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Cleveland, Columbus, Asheville, Chicago, Toronto, Knoxville, and Atlantic City.

I'd certainly qualify as a regional explorer. Whether it's an Appalachian backwater, a rural hovel, a historic battlefield, a beach community, or a dying rust belt town- chances are it has not escaped my interest. It's strange to think about the variability in human experience that lays within 600 miles of any point on Earth. There's plenty of exploration to be done around any such node. While it may seem that I've seen the majority of stuff that is worthwhile, I realize that this isn't close to being true. I could spend the rest of my lifetime not going beyond these (somewhat) arbitrary borders, and never experience everything. I wonder how many people throughout the centuries have never strayed beyond such a circle.

My window of opportunity for overseas travel has definitely passed... at least temporarily. The costs and other responsibilities of raising an infant are a bit prohibitive. I realize that I'm going to have to get really creative if I want to continue taking 'vacations'. No more bathing in the lap of luxury, to be sure. I have to consider the well-being of my child, first and foremost. Yet I really have no idea how people travel with such a young child. Where do they go? How do they get to see anything that they want to see? With as many weeks off a year as I usually get, I'm sure I will find the time to work through some of these issues. As baby E. gets older, it's going to be fun to take him to some of my old haunts. I have to remind myself that this journey is just getting started.

Jeremy Scahill, "Blackwater" (2007)

Advocates of widespread privatization seem to have triumphed in the US military. Prior to March 31, 2004, this was the Bush Administration's dirty little secret. It was on that date that the burnt remains of several private contractors were suspended on a bridge outside of Fallujah- an Iraqi city of 300,000 up the road from Baghdad. Technically these men had been civilians, but not in the eyes of the Sunnis that were unhappy with the American occupation of their city. The deceased had been escorting a convoy of flatbeds, on their way to pick up kitchen equipment. They wore wraparound Oakley sunglasses and drove in jeeps without armor. They could have been CIA agents, but they were actually employees of a company called Blackwater.

Blackwater was responsible for the protection of Paul Bremer (CPA head) and John Negroponte (US ambassador to Iraq). This certainly validated Blackwater executives' claims that they were a 'secret partner' of the US Government on the War on Terror. Regardless of the actual level of clandestine participation, there is no doubt that most Iraqis perceived these contractors as official representatives of the occupying forces. And thus whatever behaviors they displayed reflected not just on themselves, but on the entirety of the American people. Unfortunately for the US citizenry, Blackwater's soldiers-for-hire are cocky and often act as if they are above the law.

The fact is that (according to Jeremy Scahill's Blackwater: The Rise of the Worlds Most Powerful Army, (2007)) these mercenaries are indeed beyond the reach of criminal prosecution. This was by decree of Paul Bremer himself. As Scahill notes in his extraordinarily informative work, "One of Bremer's last official acts was to issue a decree immunizing Blackwater and other contractors from prosecution for any potential crimes committed on Iraq (June 27, 2004)." That basically gave these mercenaries complete impunity... a license to kill and maim at will for any (or no) reason. The real consequences of their missteps were paid by the US Military, who were drawn into a rash campaign of revenge after the "Fallujah-Bridge" incident.

It doesn't necessarily matter that those doomed Blackwater agents were simply lost when they were ambushed and desecrated. They became a symbol of Bush's resolve in the war. At the same time, their company became super-wealthy with expanded government contracts after the grisly incident. Blackwater became the vanguard of the radical change in the role that private companies would have in the theater of war, and even flirted with actual combat. The story begins with the wealthy heir of a Christian Right fortune, and continues through the remarkable series of events that transformed a small arms shooting range facility into one of the most notorious private military contractors the nation has ever seen.

Scahill has obviously put a tremendous amount of research into this book. If it has any flaw, it is its almost overwhelming scope. Obviously this is an inordinately complex story. There are too many problematic aspects of the Blackwater phenomenon to present a comprehensive list here. Among the many things the American public should be concerned about most are: Erik Prince's ties to the radical Christian Right, private contractors overcharging on no-bid government contracts, private security companies siphoning off the best manpower from the armed forces, the lack of transparency in the activities of private military contractors, and the message that using mercenaries to fight the administration's battles sends to the rest of the world. This is a mind-bending and troubling work.

Jim Thompson, "Roughneck" (1954).

Jim Thompson was an interesting figure in American literature. He was primarily known as an artist of hard-boiled crime fiction. During his lifetime he wrote more than thirty novels, many of which were published by pulp fiction publishers. Although he only received a little critical attention during his lifetime, he has subsequently been lauded as one of the best writers within his genre. His more refined writing incorporated surrealism and unconventional plot devices that elevated his best work to the status of literature. In fact, many contemporary authors and filmmakers have gone public with their appreciation of his output. Robert Redford, Harlan Ellison, Stephen King and the directors Stanley Kubrick, Sam fuller, Stephen Frears and Steven Shainberg are among the many cultural celebrities who are on record as being Jim Thompson fans.

Thompson was born in Indian Territory (Oklahoma) in 1906. His father was a county sheriff who was forced to leave office due to rumors of embezzlement. While his family lived a nomadic existence, Thompson developed a reputation as a hustler at a young age. One of his first jobs was working as a bellhop in a hotel, where he supplemented his income by trading in bootleg liquor during the prohibition era. This time in his life is documented in the entertaining memoir Bad Boy, and was adapted by Shainberg for his 1996 feature Hit Me. His truck with underworld figures and petty criminals left him plenty of material for the stories he was submitting to a variety of true crime magazines.

Later on he would become an oil field laborer, and then the head of the Oklahoma Federal Writers Project ( a position created as part of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's depression-era New Deal programs). During World War II he worked at an aircraft factory where he was eventually investigated for a brief flirtation with the Communist Party. Out of this experience came the fodder for his first novel, Now and on Earth (1942). Subsequent works became progressively violent and dark, and Thompson slowly built a following. Eventually though, having become frustrated by his lack of commercial success, he turned to writing television programs and novelizations in Los Angeles. He died of a stroke at the age of 71, his health ravaged by alcoholism.

Roughneck picks up where Bad Boy leaves off. It finds Thompson entering the struggles of young adulthood in the rough economic climate of the 1930's. He got married young, but had difficulties finding work to support his wife and child. His memoir chronicles his desperate search for legitimate employment. It tells of his associations with various shady characters, who lure him into schemes and con games. At one point he gets a job as a strong-arm collector for an installment shop that caters to clients with extremely bad credit. Thompson's deep humanity and affinity for the underdog shine most strongly in this account. In the midst of tramping around the country looking for sustenance, he never abandons his dreams to write great books. Unfortunately his family often pays the cost of his determination.

The stories of Thomspon's hardships are often funny, but contain a hint of deep pathos about the cold, implacable nature of life. His tale of trying to extract a derelict oil pipe from a backwoods site dramatizes the almost epic battle between intention and fate. His attempts to negotiate the bureaucracy of the Works Project Administration and write a history of the unions underscores the often unavoidable futility of honest effort. Even his modest bid for domestic comfort seems doomed to failure. Thompson finally finds himself in the position to buy a house for his clan only to discover the structure infested by bedbugs and centipedes. Despite the essentially bleak outlook and the rather scattered narrative, Roughneck is an illustrative reminder of just how tough it has been (and can yet be) to make it in the USA.

Elizabeth Catlett @ Regina Miller Gallery.

I don't usually do this kind of thing... but the request was just so polite:

"The Regina Gouger Miller Gallery presents the works of famed artist and sculptor Elizabeth Catlett in a special, two-day exhibition May 17-18. The gallery, located on the Carnegie Mellon University campus, will be open both days from 11:30 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Catlett’s exhibit, which features more than two dozen of her figurative lithographs, serigraphs and bronze sculptures, coincides with her acceptance of an honorary doctorate of fine arts degree from Carnegie Mellon on Sunday, May 18.

Catlett has been described as the foremost African American woman artist of her generation. Many of Catlett’s works are in the collections of the world’s most distinguished art museums.

Please visit http://my.cmu.edu/site/events/ or http://millergallery.cfa.cmu.edu/ for more information."

Sprout Fund Mural Preliminary Design Exhibition, Thursday, May 15 @ Concept Gallery.

Almost exactly a month ago I posted about my participation in the public arts, and my involvement on the Sprout Fund Public Art Advisory Committee. We held meetings to select a pool of artists who would then go before the communities with their proposals. We also chose the locations that would receive murals. I mentioned how impressed I was to learn how much effort was invested in making sure the selection process was as unbiased as possible. I couldn't go into any detail about the specifics of that meeting because everything said in that room was meant to be held in confidence. This policy no doubt helps ensure that the committee members feel free to share their opinions without provoking ill feelings outside of the meeting.

I do have to admit to having some difficulties in putting aside personal feelings about art and artists. Naturally it is expected of me to bring my aesthetic sensibilities to the process. Not only is individual taste at-play in the judging, but it is in fact significant overall in the decision-making process. It is not enough to be an adept craftsmen- prospective muralists must appeal to a group with wide-ranging preferences and attitudes toward art. The assessment of art is inherently subjective, as I've mentioned before on this blog. However, the people on the committee would not have been chosen had they not been recognized as respected arbiters of taste- at least in the view of the Public Art Program Manager.

Obviously with a dozen people on the committee, one's personal preferences will not always be selected in the end. That is exactly as it should be. Still it can be difficult to see one of your favorites rejected, especially if he/she happens to be a friend as well. Pittsburgh is not a huge city, and if you make it around to the galleries, you quickly meet many of the more prominent artists in town. I've been going to openings and exhibits for at least five years, and so I know many of the creators on a first name basis. It's inevitable that I would like at least several of them. Conversely, there is always the possibility that I don't like someone that applies. It's just as important in such a case to remain as objective as possible.

Anyway, for at least this year, we are done giving our input. And we were only responsible for narrowing the pool by less than half. From the remaining proposals, the communities will select who they want to work with. This year there were enough quality applications to provide several options for each mural site. There is no way to sway the community selections. Many of the people choosing among these artists will have conventional tastes. Others no doubt will have very idiosyncratic ideas about art. Ultimately there is nothing we can do to ensure that our favorites make it through to the end. That may or may not be lamentable, depending on your perspective. I will say that we juried through a wide range of creators, and many of them do more challenging work than what I've seen in murals currently around town.

But I don't need to tell you all of this... you can see for yourself! This Thursday, May 15th is the date for the Preliminary Design Exhibition. It opens at the Concept Art Gallery in Regent Square (1031 South Braddock Avenue), and runs from 6 until 8PM. This is your opportunity to compare and contrast, and see how strong the field actually is. Each artist will present their preliminary ideas for the murals themselves. In many cases this will be the first time they are seen by anybody other than their creators. These designs were not required to be completed and turned in with the initial portfolios that were evaluated by the Advisory Committee. So they are going to be new to me as well. I can't wait to see what this talented group of artists have come up with.

The City of Bridges, Rivers and Irregular Angles.

I've never been particularly sentimental or nostalgic about my relationships with people. That may sound a bit cold, but I don't mean it that way. The thing is that I have always felt fairly free to give myself over to disparate parts of my personality. That means my approach to life has seen radical changes over the years. Although it's hard to be objective about that, I can only imagine that it has caused problems for some folks. There are certainly more than a few friends that I've known who have resisted validating such changes. There's a certain personality type that likes to keep its associates in a generally fixed focus. They are the sort that have a tendency to constantly remind you of who they think you are. That can be an obstacle to personal growth.

If I step back and look at my life, it's easy to understand any confusion others might have about my trajectory. I was a little hot-head right from the start. Being completely willful, I fought against everybody's attempts to define me. Sometimes I would do something extreme just to shake people up. It would be easy to shudder from too much remembrance. I gave hell to several of the closest figures in my life. Then when I anticipated blow-back, I abruptly changed. I pursued the martial arts and JROTC. All of a sudden I was disciplined, controlled, and very conservative. This phase took me through most of high school. It was an effective way against shielding me- both from my wilder instincts, and failure.

I could have easily ended up in the military, such was my embrace of that persona. In retrospect I feel fortunate to have gained acceptance to a large university in a city far from home. That circumstance provided me with a new opportunity to remake myself. I didn't know anybody in the new city, and could take the time to build an identity I could live with. Strangely enough I joined a fraternity. This experience was valuable because it wasn't the typical date-rapin', beer swilling, chest-pounding club that most of these organizations are. In fact, I learned to become tolerant of people who were radically different from me. Some of the brothers were metal-heads, others were hippies, and some were the product of the suburban upper middle class. There were athletes, stoners, Republicans, poets, musicians, and even guys that came out of the closet.

In the circles I ran with in college, you had to be tolerant of young adults who would profoundly shake your perspective. If you weren't comfortable being around individuals that were completely different from you, then you wouldn't stick around very long. Not only did this arrangement serve me well, but it launched me into another decade and a half of wide-ranging exploration. My twenties were a haze of activity, very little of which ever led to my material advantage. On the other hand, I always felt empowered to chase every single repressed aspect of myself out into the open. I tried everything that occurred to me. I'm lucky that there were no long term negative repercussions. And I don't regret anything.

Nowadays I am venturing into what some might see as a conventional path. I've got a house, a decent career, a wife, and a young child. I've been in this place long enough to feel like I belong. Pittsburgh is a small city, and contains the record of a lot of the experiences I've gone through. Still it's also big enough to contain corners where its inhabitants can hide for years. Like ghosts from memory, they can pass by you when you are least prepared for it. I can go to virtually any part of town and run into someone I've spent time with in the past. They reflect back on me the meaning I've taken from the periods I've passed through. They help me form a composite of the varied faces I've worn over the years I have been here. That's pretty extraordinary.

Greg Bottoms, "The Colorful Apocalypse" (2007).

There's something about half-crazed, backwoods, fundamentalist Christians that lends itself to making imaginative claims about looming apocalypse. Sometimes such self-styled ministers have intense visions and decide to commit them to canvas in the form of paintings. Fortunately for a lucky few, we happen to be living through a particularly millenarian age- when even those who can be called nominally 'sane' have their dark moments of terror. This means that there is a growing audience for artwork by these folks. In fact there is even a cultural apparatus evolving to deal in such works. There are galleries, journals, and even museums where you can see it. There's even a formal term to refer to it- "Outsider Art".

Certainly people have their disagreements about just what is, and what is not, Outsider Art. There are some that would suggest that artists who create work outside the mainstream count as members within this category. Others would assert that these creators are, by necessity, driven by mental illness. Greg Bottoms, an English professor, impulsively decided to explore whether or not some of the more famous Outsider Artists were particularly afflicted. Instead of going to the institutions (mental asylums, prisons, etc.) from where much of this body of work originates, he chose to travel to the Deep South and the Mid-West, to meet a few of the most famous Christian Visionary painters of the day. He resolved to keep journals and other recordings from this journey, and eventually worked them into The Colorful Apocalypse.

Bottoms was too late to meet Howard Finster, as he had recently passed away. He was able to meet Finster's sister, who was struggling to preserve her brother's land (called Paradise Gardens) in the face of financial difficulties. After riding around with her for a bit, the author decided to venture forth and meet William Thomas Thompson- an eccentric ex-millionaire who experienced a torrid vision of the end-times, and subsequently devoted his life to depicting harrowing portrayals of Christian horrors. Through lengthy conversations Bottoms was able to get Thompson to expound on his conspiracy theories, and his strident criticism of 'False Christians'. He also managed to wrangle an introduction to Norbert Kox, Thonpson's friend and sometimes collaborator.

Kox was an Outlaw biker from Wisconsin whose revelations came by way of a very bad acid trip. He decided to abandon his wife and child, and his motorcycle body shop, and enter into a decade-long retreat in the woods. There he built an elaborate shrine documenting the visceral sufferings of the crucified Christ, and intended to serve as a tour guide and missionary to visitors. He also painted several hundred paintings along similar lines. Philosophically, Kox and Thompson share a lot of the same obsessions. They are both concerned with the political influence of the Masons, the false teachings of Catholicism, and the impending final judgment. Kox has been 'discovered' by the legitimate art world, and has shown his work in galleries across the US and Europe.

Much of The Colorful Apocalypse recounts the interaction between Bottoms and these artists. The author is clear about not being an expert in the field of art history. And while that is not enough to invalidate his insights, it does provoke an inevitable question- just what is Bottoms motivation for writing this book? Apparently he has had personal experience with madness, and he wants to understand its nature. His brother is a schizophrenic who has embraced fundamentalist Christianity. This is problematic as it suggests that Bottoms is clearly biased in his assumptions about Christian Outsider Artists. While he has crafted an entertaining journal, he has also made himself vulnerable to a disproportionate amount of criticism for such a slim and innocuous book.

Must-See Gallery Shows Currently in Pittsburgh.

I was blind-sided this weekend. With the numerous art events around town the last couple of weekends, I had no expectation of seeing more eye-opening work. I thought I would be too desensitized to truly appreciate the offerings this past Saturday. I could not have been more wrong. The work currently hanging in a select few galleries around town is extraordinary. These venues might be a bit beneath the radar compared to the major local institutions (the Carnegie, PCA, Mattress Factory), but they demonstrate just how strong of an arts scene there is in Pittsburgh. I'll take this opportunity once again to lament the moribund state of art collection in this city. It's too bad there aren't more people in the position (or with the willingness) to financially support the artists.

Anyway- despite better sense, I am still doing my part. I was absolutely convinced of my commitment to be more temperate in my buying habits. I understand that it's getting rough all over, so I don't mean to whine about finances. Let's just say that with gas prices facing a seemingly unending increase, I really should be more careful about 'unnecessary' purchases. So that's the attitude I've tried to assume when leaving my house for the most recent art shows. But the reality is that Pittsburgh is a buyer's market. I'm cheap... I'll admit it. Still I am blown away by the prices young artists are willing to put on their work. I've developed a better idea about the resources that go into making an art object. When you do the math, a lot of these folks are getting sweat shop renumeration.

I started off with Randie Snow's exhibition at Moxie Dada. I was already familiar with her work from the last few years. I tried to cultivate her participation in Carnivalesque at the Digging Pitt gallery a couple of years ago. That didn't work out, but I continued to take a look whenever she had a show. Comparisons to the sadly-departed local legend James Church were inevitable- Snow studied with him during the last couple years of his life. I thought I knew the type of assemblages I would see at Passages at Moxie Dada. I had no idea that Snow has ascended to a new level in her output. She has produced an extremely moving body of pieces based on the seven sins and seven virtues of Catholic faith. She sought out and bought over-sized bibles from the 1800's, and carefully cut windows in their covers, hollowing out their innards. Inside she has encapsulated the very essence of morality. They are quite remarkable, and you can (and should) see them them through May.

Next I rushed over to the La Vie Gallery to see what I thought was a collection of collaborations between Thommy Conroy and James Maysles (turns out that I'm a week late on that one- it opened at the Red Room on April 30th). Instead it was an outstanding group show called A Dream of Fair Women, and included some of my favorite locals (Elina Malkin, Jairan Sadeghi, etc.). I think I'm getting spoiled by this gallery. On several occasions I've believed that the exhibitions couldn't be any better. But every time I drop my guard they exceed my expectations. They got my money again this month. Masha Vereshchenko had a grouping of extremely detailed ballpoint pen and ink drawings. I've been keeping my eye on her work for awhile (she also used to show occasionally at the Digging Pitt). I've been intrigued before, but this time I was compelled to buy a piece. You can see it (and buy a print!) at her Etsy website. Yay! I've finally found an ethical way to spend the Bush tax rebate that is supposedly forthcoming. This will be a centerpiece of my growing collection.

Finally I made a point to stop in at Paul Leroy Gehres' opening for Paid Sick Days at the Panza Gallery. For those not in the know- he is Leroy "King of Art"- man of the multitudes, former illustrator for the New Yorker, designer for Anna Sui, alumni of the aforementioned Carnivalesque show, and the reigning champion of post-pop in Pittsburgh. And as attested to by the wall-to-wall panorama of quilts, drawings and sundry currently up at Panza... he is ultimately irrepressible, indefatigable, and irresistible. The first thing my friend and I noticed in walking into the gallery was that every single damned piece was tagged as if priced at a vintage clothing shop. Listed were crossed-off prices, and the stuff was actually marked up! By his own reckoning, it took him almost 24 hours to hang this aesthetic panoply. But to look at him on the big night, you'd never have known it. He wasn't even winded! You can see this extravaganza until May 31st. If you go, look closely... because the dirty secret is that there are some incredible bargains to be had. If you can't make it, make sure to visit Leroyland today.