Archive for April, 2009

Mario Robert: How Do You Say “TAKE ME TO AN INSANE ASYLUM” in Spanish?

Sunday, April 26th, 2009

If you were here right now, you would be wondering: why is the Man About Town sitting in a Kinko’s video conference room drinking straight tequila from a Big Gulp cup? Perhaps you would be wondering what happened to my pants. I will be the one asking the questions, though, as it is my distinct pleasure to be joined, via satellite, by one of Portland’s most celebrated drinkers and artists, the one and only Mario Robert.

Question: First I gotta ask the stupid question for the Portland readers who have no clue: What’s up with the dots?

Answer: The dots. People always want to know about the dots. Each painting has the same amount of dots. It is symbolic and holds a deep meaning for me… for all the exes I’ve left behind in Texas. Each one tiny depressed and insecure… Naw, actually painting the dots reminds me of my insignificance in the universe as a single organism… No truthfully… for real, I believe that the brain perceives the smallest of details… even hidden ones… and the dots help to kind of corral your eyes.

Q: Speaking of exes, my last ex-wife was from Texas. She actually DOES remember the Alamo. Seriously, though, the woman had so many hip replacements, they ran out and had to start using elbows. Seriously, though, this tequila is kicking my ass. Mario, or can I just call you M. Bob… when you sold your soul for incredible artistic ability, what kind of car was the Devil driving?

A: He wasn’t driving anything. But his teenage Brazilian whores were driving a hooker green 1984 Chevy Citation Hatchback with an old school orange BodyGlove sticker in the back. I remember the contrast was great!

Q: Wow, that is not what I was expecting! Hooker green… Brazilian whores… reminds me of my senior prom. Seriously, though, I feel like you’re five seconds in the future… telling my punch lines before I can even tell my jokes. This is why Tan Peluski stays away from tequila. Sorry, what was that?….. Oh, the Kinko’s guy wants me to ask you something: if the Marvel Universe and the DC Universe had a battle royal, who would be left standing?

A: I won’t waste my time with such an insignificant question, Peluski… but everyone knows the DC universe would turn the Marvel Universe into a Voodoo Doughnut cock n’ balls in the blink of an eye!!! But then again, have you seen freaking Marvel Zombies?!?

Q: You just made the Kinko’s guy cry. Seriously. He’s hiding his face in my pants. Kid, you need a shoulder to cry on, fine, leave my testicles out of it. So Mario, with all the nuclear testing going on in El Paso, what super power has the radiation exposure blessed you with?

A: Backwards powers. I will not win the lottery this year.

Q: I get it, kind of like: I am not aroused by this guy’s face in my lap. That is a roll of quarters in my pocket. I have not fallen and I can get up. Seriously, though, I hear you know a few things about showing up to court hung over. Mario Robert walks into a bar, what does he order?

A: Mickey’s 40 oz. When they say no I ask for the biggest coldest beer. Hopefully a Caguama. Tall boys. A shot. Usually two beers at once. I like good tequilas. Corazon Azul. In Mexico or in the US? I don’t want to get in trouble here… What was the question?

Q: Tall boys… on second thought, I’m not going to go there. Hey, what do you get when you cross a fat guy and two beers at once? Fuck if I know… Seriously, though, my head is killing me. The question that everyone in Portland is dying to ask… when are you coming back from Texas?

A: Thirteen more moons… maybe fourteen… definitely by the fifteenth.

Q: OK, I’ll admit it. The tequila was a horrible idea. I have no feeling below my chest, and my varicose veins are starting to separate from my legs and are crawling up the walls. Seriously, though, let’s talk a little history… how did the Texas Chainsaw Massacre influence you as an artist?

A: Not as an artist… but as a person it scared the piss out of me and made me into a man. When I was little I would make myself see the band KISS under my bed trying to get me. I made myself feel their hands grabbing my feet. Then it was the Exorcist. Then it was Leatherface. I started to carry knives on me and making homemade weapons like nails sticking out of a baseball bat, or a lock at the end of a chain. I wasn’t going to go out like all those fools in the movies. But then I got caught shoplifting leads for a mechanical pencil and they busted me with two knives and a chain. My dad beat my ass with that chain while holding the lock… I was crying, telling him “You’re using it backwards dad!

Q: I don’t know how to respond to that. Mark it down on your calendars folks, Man About Town is drawing a blank. Speaking of drawing, M. Bob, what advice do you have for young artists trying to make it?

A: Make what, a cake? Love? Strawberries for both. I like strawberries. They look poisonous as hell. If Eve was trying to give me a strawberry I would be like “fuck no, lady” even though I’m not Catholic. But if she was, like, trying to feed it to me I would be like: go for it! That’s sexy!

Q: Seriously, though, I don’t think anyone will mistake you for Catholic. What do you get when you cross a fat guy with the body of Christ? No leftovers! So Mario, we’re all big fans of your video games… Luigi not withstanding… tell me, though, why does that crazy dude Wario hate you so much?

A: Mexico… Bar… Bad plumbing… Federales… Warphole rape… Wasn’t my fault.

Q: Wow, I’ve got nothing. Seriously, my head is on fire. Let’s put the column on Mario-pilot. This is where I would normally tell a joke, help me out, Roberto.

A: How many Mexicans does it take to screw in a light bulb? Juan.

Q: Well, the Kinko’s guy laughed. I can tell because his tonsils started moving. Seriously, though, you’re on a roll. Keep going!

A: A man comes home from the bar drunk as hell holding a duck. He goes into the bedroom where his wife is sleeping and says “This is the pig I’ve been sleeping with.” She says “You’re holding a duck, you idiot.”  He says “I was talking to the duck!

Q: Mario, it has been my great pleasure, although I will remember none of this tomorrow. Before I turn the TV off and introduce the Kinko’s guy to “burning sensations” is there anything else you’d like to say to the people of Portland?

A: Come see my work at www.myspace.com/marsr3, and put the nice saddle on the horse. You got horses right?

Yes indeed, they have horses and plenty of peanut butter, if you know what I mean. Well, folks, next time we meet I will probably be pumped full of pig’s blood and amphetamines, but everything I do to keep this old body going I do for you. Seriously, do you think Barbara Roberts [robot: more commonly known as Barbara Walters] is going to get that kind of interview with a serious artist? Brazilian whores? WARPHOLE RAPE? I’ve got nothing left, check out Mario’s website, buy his paintings, kiss his ass. Both cheeks. I hear sirens, that means I can pass out now.

John Wray is One Serious Mother Fucker

Monday, April 20th, 2009

Hey folks! Man About Town here, and dear God my liver is killing me. Despite my doctor’s threats of violence if I leave my bed today, I am sitting here with none other than Portland’s own John Wray, an amazing artist and one of pinball’s true heros. This is one guy you don’t want to miss out on talking to, even when your piss is coming out purple and your kidneys have climbed into your upper back. Seriously, though, John is a man of many talents and even more beards! OK, whoa there, John, just kidding… just one beard. Seriously, now, Portland is on a need-to-know basis here, and there is plenty they need to know about art. So let’s get the skinny… and speaking of skinny, my ex-wife was not it… while some women like to wear moo-moos, she would just moo. Seriously, though!

Question: So what’s with the skulls? And I don’t mean the band! Oh!

Answer: Don’t know… I can’t get them out of my head.

Q: Great answer! Ironically enough, I can’t get my ex-wife out my head, despite the fact she never even gave me any! In all seriousness, though, what are your thoughts on the artistic endeavors of the new Rambo movie?

A: I haven’t seen the new Rambo movie not that I wouldn’t watch it.

Q: Nice! Can’t tell you how much I wish I had never seen my ex-wife! Oh, but seriously, I’m still paying the optimologist… That’s actually the truth! Speaking of which, John, boxers or briefs?

A: Boxerbriefs!

Q: Fabulous! My good friend Art loves those, says they help with his… second thought, let’s not get into that. Love the guy, but he has the tendency to show off the wares, if you know what I mean. Never understood why they have those flaps in the front, but seriously, though, how does it feel to have a name that rhymes with John Gay?

A: [John gets very serious.] You repeat that and we’ll have to go outside…

Q: John, my good man, we don’t have to be outside to be together! Only joking! Seriously, though, how do you feel about Sam Adams and what he has done for the Portland art scene?

A: I don’t know what Sam Adams does for the Portland art scene, he’s never bought one of my paintings.

Q: Unbelievable! I guess the skulls and roses thing isn’t as up his alley as, say, the Little League posters he’s got his living room wallpapered with. Seriously, though, speaking of up his alley, what do you get when you cross a fat guy with an underage bowling league? Sam Adams huffing bowling shoes like they were paint thinner! Seriously though, not that you’re 17, John, but do you find mayor Sam Adams attractive?

A: No. His hair is always messy, though, and I know for a fact that a friend of mine just cut it for him today.

Q: Really? Do you have a lot of hot, 17-year-old, male friends? Only kidding, my ex-wife was actually one of the above, but if I told you which I’d be violating a restraining order. Seriously, though, what advice do you have for up-and-coming artists?

A: Paint as much art as you can.

Q: Speaking of painting, your dad was a long standing member of ZZ Top. Are you a Sharp Dressed Man, yes or no?

A: [John laughs for the first time.] No.

Q: You’re kidding! I owe Art some money on that one, for real now… Since we’re on the subject of music, John, tell me… Does every rose really have it’s thorn?

A: Many. They’re very large and can stab you.

Q: Wow! Here I was thinking that Poison exaggerated the ratio of roses to thorns, but apparently each flower has at least one prick. Speaking of which, what do you get when you cross a fat guy with my last ex-wife? At least two pricks! Seriously, though, John… Are you a member of the NRA?

A: I plead the fifth.

Q: Me too, but only when I’m broke and standing out front of the liquor store. Please, kind sir, could you spare a fifth? Seriously, though, wonderful to meet you, John Wray, and before I beg you for a drink is there anything else you would like to let people in Portland know?

A: Crazy Flipper Fingers RULE, all others SUCK!!!

Not to disagree with you but my ex-wife would only suck while I’m at work. I’m only kidding… Seriously, though, we covered quite a bit! Check out www.crazyflipperfingers.com, John Wray, artist and pinball genius, it has been my pleasure to discuss so many things with you today. If you will please excuse me I have a fifth waiting in the car, and I’m not talking about vodka, I’m talking about my fifth wife! Seriously, though, make that soon-to-be-ex-wife, I just saw her lawyer’s car pull up. What do you get when you cross a fat guy with my ability to maintain a marriage? Just a fat guy! Oh! I wish it weren’t true, no, but seriously, though, now that I look at the woman in question I take that back. I don’t even need a pen, I’ll sign the papers with tears of joy! Take half my liver while you’re at it, all it’s doing is weighing me down! Seriously, though, take care my friends! Lend me your livers!

Tan Peluski

Man About Town

Approximate @ galleryHOMELAND

Monday, April 20th, 2009

Art: Pleasure to work with you, Tan. Your swollen red nose and beer stained shirt precede you. Our subject today is rather simpleton, we have been asked to critique a John Motley article from the Portland Mercury, a darling little publication worth its’ weight in soiled bedsheets. In it he praises the collaborative installation, Approximate, currently disturbing those unfortunate enough to find themselves scurrying the hallways of galleryHOMELAND. I believe I will let you have the floor, Tan, as this sort of thing deserves your brand of commentary.

Tan: Well thank you, Art. Nice to actually see your face, although I think I still prefer the back of your head! Seriously, though, it’s time to talk some art. Who’s buying my next shot? Seriously, folks, make that a shot and a beer. Speaking of shots, have you heard the one about the fat guy?

Art: Have you heard of a thesaurus?

Tan: What do you get when you cross a fat guy with the world’s most intelligent man? Smart food, oh! I have been touched by an anus! Seriously, though…

Art: The article…

Tan: Yeah, so John Motley… the Crue called, they don’t need another drummer, give it up already! Seriously, though, your drumming can’t be any worse than your writing, maybe they will get tired of Tommy Lee constantly bringing in tons of hot famous chicks and give you a shot. Speaking of shots…

Art: What is your take on Motley’s article, Tan?

Tan: Of course, after reading the article my best piece of advice for him is this: quit your day job! Seriously, though, I hope your drumming is better than your writing. As far as this whole TILT Export, roving trash compactor gallery thing goes… What do you get when you cross a fat guy with a failing Portland gallery? A failing gallery that closed and still does shows in other galleries!

Art: Your keen wit pales in comparison to your unearthly ability to consume liquor.

Tan: Seriously, though, great work, Motley. The more I drink the more I like it. Speaking of sex with my last ex-wife, what do you get when you cross a fat guy with the Portland Mercury? A circulation of over 40,000! Seriously, folks, I am drunk, and I think this installation thing that Damien Gilley and Ethan Rose put together is incredible. Looks like special ed is finally paying dividends. What do you get when you cross a fat guy and a short bus? You get boxes made out of masking tape that get smaller. Reminds me of another ex-wife, except I had to tape her box open and it never got smaller! I’m only kidding…

Art: I’m buying you another shot for that one.

Tan: Architectural blueprints really do wonders for a gallery wall, I just wish I had some for my ex-wife. I’d be hot, hard, and single! Seriously, though, unless you’re drunk or three years old, avoid the galleryHOMELAND and get back to your Master’s degree in masking tape. Only joking… What do you get when you cross a fat guy with a Master’s degree? An educated guy that still can’t find his penis!

Art: I believe there is little point in continuing this. We have already given enough publicity and time to such a dire waste of non-talent. Now, Tan, if you will do the honor…

Tan: Sure thing, your majesty! This has been Visual Fart Review, Art Floyd and Tan Zeppelin signing out.

Letter from Selfless Sam Beck

Monday, April 20th, 2009

hey – are you planning to write about art at all on here? [robot: no, we chose the name Portland City Art to intentionally mislead our readers…]

i’ve been thinking that there should be reviews somewhere (the internet seems like a decent place) that just spell out explicitly which shows totally suck. you know, so you don’t have to go to them. maybe some kind of chart – either “this show sucks” or possibly a brief review if the show is worth seeing. if you’re planning to have reviews on here, i’d be interested in writing, but if not i think the chart would be a useful resource, and i’d be happy to cast votes. or make the whole thing – it wouldn’t take very much work. [robot: great ideas, Sam. while you’re at it, why don’t you make a chart that tells us which Portland curator is the most fun to suck?]

you know, for the community. [robot: are you sure you live in Portland? the community loathes honesty!]

let me know if you’re at all interested. i like what’s up there so far –
especially the robot. i really think art needs an authoritarian robot to
do some regulating. [robot: forget what I said before, you’re hired!]

– sam beck

Art Teacher Interview

Saturday, April 18th, 2009

Question: How does it feel to be teaching children the building blocks for the most unsuccessful and unnecessary career in the world?

Answer: Great, asshole.

Q: I’m only kidding. Seriously, though… so you’re teaching our kids to be losers?

A: No.

Q: What do you get when you cross a fat guy with a bunch of suburban art students?

A: I don’t know… Is this a real interview?

Q: Coffee Workers: the Next Generation! Seriously, though. Captain Jean-Luc Picasso of the Starbucks Enterprise! The zingers, they just come to me. But seriously, what do you teach our kids to do with art?

A: Teach them to have fun, express themselves and be free.

Q: If you really wanted to be helpful, you’d teach them how to work a cash register!

A: You are a jerk!

Q: Do any of these kids have talent?

A: I am done, please leave.

Q: Show me an artist in Portland with talent, and I’ll show you a female orgasm! Seriously, though, speaking of orgasms, have you slept with any of your students?

A: No! What is wrong with you?

Q: I majored in art! Only kidding. You remind me of my last ex-wife. Seven years of marriage, my penis spent the whole time on the side of a milk carton! Oh, that’s rich! Seriously, though, what is your favorite thing to do with art?

A: I like to make art, what the hell do you think?!

Q: I’ll tell you what I think, Art’s hot, I made him too. No, seriously, I shouldn’t joke about Art, he is a wonderful human being that I have never seen naked. He only likes it with his clothes on! Seriously, though, did you see that birth mark he has just under his left butt cheek or was it all from behind?

A: Close the door on your way out.

Q: Tough crowd! OK, seriously though, one last question. Who’s your favorite artist?

A: Myself.

Witty answer. Well, thanks for your time, there can’t be much left on your biological clock! Joking, but seriously now… The only mystery left unsolved is what you get when you cross a fat guy with an angsty art teacher? I have no idea, but that art teacher needs to get her hands on some wood, if you know what I mean! Seriously, though, I need a drink you buying?

Tan Peluski
Man About Town

Ben Pink NO LONGER OWES ME MONEY, part 1

Saturday, April 18th, 2009

In what can only be described as a STUNNING COINCIDENCE, Ben Pink no longer owes me money. Shortly after I ran the original article Ben Pink OWES ME MONEY, the man himself got in touch with me.

“I will be at the gallery Thursday, and will have a check for you then.”

Give it a minute to sink in… Ben Pink… the same guy I told you was harder to squeeze than a gorilla… owner/operator of Launchpad Gallery (new work by emerging artists, like Chris Haberman)… offering to part with his dear, beloved money. My heart actually stopped beating for a minute or two. Read it again: “…have a check for you…”

What the fuck?

So Thursday finally came, and even though it was clearly some kind of setup, I couldn’t resist. On the way over to  Launchpad I came across an angry little 8-year-old that was mercilessly taunting the elderly.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Today’s Thursday, dumbshit.”

Something occurred to me… Ben Pink and his minions would be far less likely to kidnap and torture me if I was with a little kid. “Hey, you seem like a nice kid. I’ll buy you a Mountain Dew if you come somewhere with me and pretend to be my nephew.” He agreed (obviously! all kids love Mountain Dew), but insisted on payment up-front. So we walked to the store first, then over to the gallery.

Just outside the door to Launchpad, several rough looking types were betting on what appeared to be a kitten fight. One of them looked up at me and frowned. “You were supposed to come alone,” he said quietly like Edward James Olmos. He looked us up and down a few times, and after about five minutes he ushered us over to a blood-stained side door. There was a little pink bucket full of what looked like spare kitty parts next to it. A bird was perched above on the gutter, licking its beak. I started to think that maybe showing up had been a not-so-good idea, in particular bringing the kid with me, but before I could make a run for it the door slid open.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next. Ben Pink himself was sitting there on the toilet taking a shit COMPLETELY NAKED. He looked up with an amazingly wide grin.

“So glad you could make it!” he chirped. “I see you brought a little friend, I love kids! Come here little guy!”

The kid took off.

Ben: “Oh how adorable!”

Me: “So… well… about that check…”

Ben: “Nonsense, my friend! Checks are for disabled people in wheelchairs, how do you feel about cash?”

Me: “Well… whatever’s easiest…”

He reached down to the pants that were rumpled on the floor next to him and pulled out an immaculate velcro wallet. It was black. “Almost there!” He opened the wallet and smelled the inside. “I love it!” He got up and started doing what I’m guessing he might call his money dance. Completely naked.

Me: “So… uhm…”

Ben: “Where are my manners, I forgot you were even there!”

Me: “No problem…”

Ben: “Thanks for waiting!”

Me: “Sure… uhm…”

Ben: “Say the magic word!”

Me: “…”

Ben: “Come on, say it! I love the magic word!”

Me: “Please?”

Ben: “No, the MAGIC word!”

Me: “Pay me?”

Ben: “That’s two words, you big dork! Come on, think MAGIC!”

Me: “Abracadabra?”

As soon as I said it, the wallet disappeared in a small poof of smoke. Ben Pink began hopping and clapping his hands together. “Check your pockets! Check your pockets!” His excitement was scaring me, so I reached in and checked my pockets. Nothing. Just the crap I had when I showed up. I kept digging around, thinking maybe I missed something. Nope.

Me: “Ben… I don’t think the trick worked.”

Ben: “Nonsense!”

Me: “I mean, it was cool how the wallet disappeared, but…”

Ben: “Check your pockets again!”

I checked my pockets again. Nothing.

Ben: “Check your pockets again!”

Me: “Look, man…”

Ben: “Check your pockets again! Pleeease!”

I checked them again. Still empty.

After about the tenth round of the check your pockets game, I decided that no amount of money was worth all of this, so I just said fuck it and started to walk off. Ben Pink ran up behind me (still completely naked) and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Dude, you forgot your money.” His other hand was extended, and was holding a small roll of bills. He was calm all the sudden. “Sorry for putting you through all that just now… You have to admit it was pretty funny, though.” All I could see was the money in his hand. “We’ll should do this again sometime, what do you say?”

“Sure man…” I reached out to grab the money, but before I could get my fingers on it something hit me hard on the back of the head and everything went dark…

TO BE CONTINUED

Until next time,
Bad Habits

People Will Talk @ Launchpad Gallery

Saturday, April 18th, 2009

Hey honeys! Oh sweethearts, hold on, sorry for the miscommunication. I wasn’t talking funny not cause I don’t like you… I was just rubbing my balls and I had good hard… well, you know in my mouth…. Lol! Only some of you will get that, sweeties, but hey!

In between the time it takes me to bend over some of those well known city officals and your next door neighbors husband, MMMMmmmmmm. I love married men, oh sorry sweeties off the subject. I like to take some time and wander into some Portland art galleries. Oh honey I love it, it gets me wet and hard all at the same time sweeties. I’m smacking my lips just thinking about some art my mangina got all erect over the other day…

I was working my way down a popular Portland street hung over and worn out from the hard nasty I gave some hot guy in an alley and honey let me tell you that nasty was… mmmmmmm. good for me and him. I put his ass pussy where it belonged! Afterwards, sweeties, I went lookin’ for something just as sweet for my eyes… I stumbled into Launchpad Gallery, and oh honey if my pants weren’t already wet I wet them again….. Photos by Mark Wickum, and paintings of photos by Chris Haberman….. I tried to suck a dick for some art but was refused. Then I tried the ol’ I’ll bend you over for one but no one took the bait… Guess I’m just a pay as you need it kinda gyrl… get it sweeties?… Wish I had some of that sweet love on those walls, though, and that artist Chris Haberman, oh sweeties he can bend me over anytime. Loved it all, loved it so much I even gave a trick a freebie I just had to let something of mine explode after all that nasty I saw on those walls.. Nasty is good sweethearts, not bad! It means wholesome gyrl love in my back. Come get nasty with me when you’re free, my treat of course, but only for a hot sexy painting…

Love you sweeties…….
Bosom Bunny…

Welcome: On Your Level

Wednesday, April 15th, 2009

A few days ago I was asked to be a periodic columnist on a new up and coming website that introspectively relays information about the happenings of art in the city of Portland, Oregon. With respect to the geographical location of these columns and my reader audience, I as a professional writer (though adorned several times over with masters degrees in fields of personal interest, keynote speaker at several hundred amazingly successful seminars, infinite array of magazines and newspapers I work for covering every subject matter known to man) promise to keep my artistic, creative and intellectual Genius under severe restraint so that you may hope to understand.

I will refrain from the use of words such as exceptional, probability or reoccurrence in any of my writings. Most of all I will always keep in mind that Portland is a simple town with simple ideas, and that no one wants to interrupt their perfect flow of mediocrity with anything a tad more smart. Besides, I am well aware that as an artist or just a public shmo you have already spent most of your day drinking cheap beer and smoking weed so making your head hurt with large confusing (whoops, did it right there!) with large hard to get words is simply not very nice. I have even made a list that I will keep in front of me to help me understand your adorable Portland Phonics (whoops!) Portland Lingo. I will focus on sharing with you my immense (my “bad”!) big wisdom on a level that you will comprehend (damn! again!) I mean so you can get it! Let us then start this column off on the right foot. I hope a little explanation (damn!) description (shit!) I mean a little… um… blurb about myself has helped, so now let us talk art.

Portland art is fine, but if you want to be famous (and in this case a famous artist in Portland) you will need my help. Guess what? No I will not mail you an ounce of weed. No! I am not starting a non-profit. What you need are ideas!!! Brilliant ideas!!! You know the things in your head that you have for just a moment but cannot remember what they were after the second drag on your joint or that third beer? Well, I am going to give them to you. A huge list of ideas, a cheat sheet if you will. Something you can look to when those ideas you had are forgotten. Reading my column will bring you happiness, you will have something to create in-between your drum circle, after your food co-op meeting, and right before you spend the five dollars you made washing dishes at the bar for a pack of smokes. Everything you need will be right here. So do not worry, when that flash of genius comes to you and you want to leave the bar or your local community garden to go paint that multi-colored portrait of you as an angst little girl you won’t have to because you can keep doing what you are doing and be rest assured (whoops!) feel O.K. That you can come home, curl up by your electric heater, read my column, and have the kind of ideas that only famous artists would have. Ideas that when they are done properly will make you famous here in Portland, Oregon.

I know, that was a lot to take in, so let us make it simple. O.K. Here it is… Idea number one for artists in Portland to be famous or already famous artists to get even more famous. Paint something on recycled material. OH MY GOD! I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE I JUST GAVE THAT AWAY! Yes! Recycled material! Find some wood, paper, a sign, a bed, a bum’s penis, a dead bird, some string, a bottle, an adult diaper, a TV… Anything you can pick up that has room to make something on use it!!! In Portland, that will make you a famous artist!

Regards,
Art Jeanyus
mastermind@portlandcityart.com

Welcome: That Not Nice!

Tuesday, April 14th, 2009
Resident craigslist correspondent, Baby.

Our very own resident craigslist columnist, Baby.

[robot: today after an advertisement for our fledgling little publication was posted on craigslist, some people took time out of their busy days to visit our website and posted their reactions back on craigslist. apparently they were unaware that they can say whatever they want here. anyhow, we sent our resident craigslist correspondent, Baby, out to investigate the matter further.]

POST #1: Re: Portland Art Exposed “New online magazine created to destroy the mythos of Portland’s so-called art scene” What a noble endeavor! Good to see you finally found your niche- a blog! A blog devoted to clawing at anything more successful than you, so you’ll have plenty of material. Don’t you see you are only exposing yourself? You just splashed all your negativity, failure, bitterness and spite onto a page for all the world to see. No one will respect you for it. You’re just another anti-racc whiner. With 3 petty grievances. Way to go! That’s just what I’d want to be known for. But, thanks, you’ve reminded me how repulsive a being is when they blame everything but themselves. I’ll be returning to my studio now to spend my time on something worthwhile.

BABY’S RESPONSE: You make Baby cry! You want Baby dead!

POST #2: Re: Portland Art EXPOSED What a waste of time, go whine about your pathetic life somewhere else. Nobody likes you or your sorry excuse for humor.

BABY’S RESPONSE: You make Baby sad! You kill Baby’s mommy!

POST #3: Portland Art exposed. Yes Ben Pink is the Big Problem. I used to think that RACC and DK Row were the worst things about the Portland art scene but now that you reminded me it is Ben Pink even worse than Mel Katz. There is only one salvation in Portland art’s scene now and it is the Anti art anti racc scene — http://www.xanga.com/RACCone/weblog/ Its time to have an anti Ben pink web page to complement that one. If Ben Pink has not joined us art super stars having had sex with Mayor Sex Adams I think he should. My name is Joe Blue by the way and I would love to meet Ben Pink some day up close in personal. The two of us could be instant Pink and Blue together! Fuck Portland. Fuck RACC. Art is dead. Let smoke dope and pray. My favorite painting in portland art museum:

BABY’S RESPONSE: You say bad words! That not nice! You make Baby’s tummy hurt!

POST #4: so I have a pretty good idea who that anti-racc guy is http://www.myspace.com/portlandguy_awesomeness no offense love, I’ve been there when you’ve mentioned some of your references. (:

BABY’S RESPONSE: You stranger! You sell Baby for drugs!

POST #5: RE: Portland Art Exposed (the pit of despair that is my life) hating art must be a great past time. enjoy!

BABY’S RESPONSE: You yucky! You want Baby naked!

[robot: that wraps up our craiglist coverage for the day, it’s late and Baby needs to go night-night. you can reach baby at baby@portlandcityart.com, goodnight]

BABY’S RESPONSE: Again! Again!