Goodbye, Blogger.

I'm kind of over this blogging format and the tiny images it requires.


In the future, I'll be posting at http://srohlfs.tumblr.com/, so be sure to check that out. It looks like nothing at the moment, but I'm leaping before I blog.

Tilt-Shift Photography added to must-learn list.

Somebody needs to teach me how to do Tilt-shift photography.I very much desire to simulate miniatures. I've really got to get going on getting myself a fancy digital SLR to play with. Or a motorcycle. Or an MFA. If only I could plant a money bush. Teach me how, Ngugi wa'Thiong'o!

Oh, and please check out Kris Atomic, the source of the lovely image above (and many others, as well as a delightful illustration of "Chronic Bitch Face, a disease from which I believe I suffer.) I try not to include girly things in this blog because it's absolutely besides the point, but I like them and it's my blog, damn it. Get your own.

Another from the road trip.

Open Studios 2011 at The Hive

Open Studios are coming up at The Hive.
I'm sure all 15,000 of you blog readers (hi, mom) will be attending.

The Hive is opening its doors as part of the East Bay Open Studios event put on each year by the Pro Arts Gallery here in Oakland. They're promoting the event as including over 400 artists in 14 cities in the East Bay, though I suspect Oakland and Berkeley will be the best represented.

So put on your walking shoes (who am I kidding, I know you'll be driving. It's California...) and get ready to eat terrible snacks and see some wonderful art. I'm already starting to tidy up for you.

Another from the road trip.

From last summer's road trip.

Jon Rafman

Thanks to the awesome folks at Fecal Face for the heads up on Jon Rafman's amazing screen captures from Google Earth. See them here, they're truly spectacular.

Discovering what I've already discovered

Oh, the unpredictable joys of iTunes shuffle.

When it's not unearthing various attempts to learn languages (Ni hao, podcast! Wie geht's? Molto bene, grazie.) it's digging up things that I honestly cannot trace. It's like a trip in a time machine to an unexplained and decontextualized pre-Stephanie-Stephanie. And as much as I hate the self-congratulating hipster/artist "look how obscure my musical tastes are" post...

Look how obscure my musical tastes are! Oh, my god, I'm so "alt." In fact, I'm so alt, I've started saying alt again, so eat my shorts. What follows are some of the more random of my randoms.

Abrew's Portuguese Instrumental Trio - "Cabo Verdranos Peca Nove"
Agnes Buen Garnas & Jan Garbarek - "Lillebror Og Storebror"
Amber - "This is Your Night" (haha)
Arto Lindsay - "Prefeelings"
Bembeya Jazz National - "Whiskey Soda"
Billy Joel - "The Downeaster Alexa"
Blondie - "Sunday Girl" (in French)
Bobby Conn - "Never Get Ahead" (video is kid-friendly chica-go-go version)
Chingy - "Right Thurr Remix ft. JD"
Clyde McPhatter - "Lover Please"
Coven - "One Tin Soldier"
David Bowie - "Segue: Ramona A. Stone/I Am With Name" (This song is crazy as hell.)
Die Antwoord - "Jou Ma Se Poes In'N FishPaste Jar"
Dolly Parton - "Daddy Come and Get Me"
Dr. John - I Walk on Gilded Splinters (quite possibly the best lighting storm and cigarettes song)
Heavy Metal Kids - "Jackie the Lad"
Ini Kamoze - "Hot Steppa"
The Ink Spots - "If I Didn't Care"
Joe Diffie - "Leroy the Redneck Reindeer"
Lenka - "Gravity Rides Everything"
Leonard Nimoy - "Ruby"
The Loniest Monk - "You Don't Have To Try"
Marlene Dietrich - "Ja, So Bin Ich"
Marvin Pontiac - "Arms and Legs"
Memphis Jug Band - "Rukus Juice and Chitlin'"
Public Enemy - "Cold Lampin' with Flavor"
Rudi Schuricke - "Capri Fischer"
Vince Giordano and His Nighthawks Orchestra - "Hurricane"
Violetta Villas - "Dla ciebie mamo"


And because it's so great, here's a bonus video of Bembeya Jazz National's "Whiskey Soda." Learn it. Live it. Love it.




As a footnote, screw you, ItUNES, for your expert marketing that makes me capitalize your brand name as you have irrationally decreed it be capitalized. sCRew yoU.

English-ish-ish.

Tonight I am obsessed with what English, specifically American English, sounds like to the billions of people around the world who must, at times, feel that they are drowning in a sea of foreign sounds. We'll start off slow.



Yes, it's "Ken Lee". Deal with it.

Somewhat less known, though apparently a mini-meme in its own right, is Adriano Celentano's "Prisencolinensinaincuisol", an Italian pop song from the early 70's. Ostensibly written to mimic American English, the song is pure jibberish and yet rather convincingly apes English pheonetics.



Here it is, sung by a Bulgarian Valentin Asenov, passed through a terrifying late '80s / early '90s filter, complete with "fly girls" and a saxophone solo.




Here's a link to a somewhat befuddled Will Smith confronting Prisencolinensinaincuisol on Italian TV in 2005.

Will Smith: "Was that supposed to be English?"
Italian TV Man: "Yes, certo. Certo, Inglese."

The announcer/host is most definitely joking, but he does display some pride at the wit of his musically comedic countryman. Also most definitely comedy is the following clip from the Swedish television show Grotesco. It's not only filled with pseudo English, but uses some of our many, many television cliches to make its point. The black man falsely accused of a crime in the south, the "old boy" corrupt government official, the old southern man in a white suit... The Grotesco parody suffers from its creators obvious grasp of the English language, the words too often drifting from fake into silly English. It's mentionable, however, for quotes like the following:

"They say a man can walk a thousand miles and still don't know his butt from his behind. Well, I say a man can walk two yards and found the crowmacrew. That's a frewf."



I am reminded of a story an ex-boyfriend relayed of a conversation he had with a European tourist when we were both living in Rome as students. My ex asked the man what he though English sounded like as a non-native speaker, and he made a series of smacking, open-mouthed chewing sounds.

A.M.

Heading to work earlier than usual, I am struck by the fog of a San Francisco morning. It seems very much as smoke from a fire, although heavier somehow, as if the thing on fire was a large body of water, smoldering densely. That is, of course, very close to what is happening. Is it something about the light which makes it seem so magical? Or is it simply that I'm not adjusted to this early hour.

Waiting by the waterfront for work to start.

The gallery whre I work is near Fisherman's Wharf, a touristy neighborhood near North Beach. I'm not really sure who buys the eart and I find it hard to visualize, much as I find it hard to picture the Beats and artists of North Beach's past having anything in common with todays tourist throngs. It's beautiful, yes, and filled with enough of the Italian foods I remember from a sesmester abroad to earn it a place in my heart. But it's hard to reconcile with it's image, the one so many tourists stop at the City Lights bookstore in search of.

It's time now for work.

New Studio!

I'm very excited to announce that I've just mailed in my deposit for my new studio at Hive Galleries in Oakland! Starting January 1st, I'll be happily painting away in my own personal white box. I'm really looking forward to the opportunity to start getting my portfolio in order for grad school applications next fall, and also just really excited to not have to make small gouache drawings at the kitchen table any more. The joy of having a dedicated art-making space... just one more reason to hope the world doesn't end in 2012.

Postcard Show 14

The following images are some of my favorites of the 35 individual gouache and pencil on paper postcards I made for the upcoming show at The Lab. I got lazy and didn't do anything other than crop my scans, but I think in this case that's alright. 

Upcoming Shows

Im Lauf der Zeit (Kings of the Road), 1976

The agony of not being able to find the film you want to watch.

Wim Wenders' 1976 film Im Lauf der Zeit (English title: Kings of the Road) is a film that I haven't seen since I was in high school, when an old VHS copy was lent me by a friend. To be totally honest, I remember it only in flashes. Black and white with long, slow, silent takes. I remember two men on the road. I don't remember anything else definitively enough to write out. What I can say is that this film was my introduction to Wim Wenders, who became a life-long favorite. This film also probably led into my enthusiasm for Jim Jarmusch films. (I remember a similar frustration while waiting for the re-issue of Stranger Than Paradise.) So until I can dig it out from some library, I'll content myself with listening to Roger Miller songs.

Lemons and Rats (dream)

This has really nothing to do with nothing, but last night I dreamed (among other things) of a back-lit fishtank full of water and lemons sunk beneath. The tank contained nine white rats, which I counted in my sleep - a new experience. These rats were eating the zest off the lemons, leaving them shaved and matte white. The light was a beautiful California morning light - glowy and yellow, but still so bright - and as the rats did their work, the light caught in the tank, glowing even more yellow and white from the lemons and white rats. An interesting silhouette of white and yellow on white and yellow, outlined with brighter whites and yellows. I saw all this over a fence, over a dream-distance that blurred things. But it was stays vivid in my memory.

It was really quite beautiful, and in my dream I felt that I should discourage the rats from doing this, as they were in my backyard. But I couldn't do it, and walked away.

An Image from Route 66

Click to see larger.

I really wish I had a better camera. There's something about this image I find so striking.

Libido of Benjamino

From Wikipedia:

Ivan Maximov (Russian: Иван Максимов) is an artist, professional animator and director.

Ivan Maximov was born on 19 November 1958 in Moscow.[1] He studied photography at the Biophysical Institute in Moscow till 1976. From 1976 - 1982 Maximov studied at the Physical-Technical Institute in Moscow. He worked as an illustrator for various magazines and from 1982 to 1986 he was an engineer at the Russian Space Research Institute. Between 1986 and 1989 Maximov took advanced studies in Film Directing and Script writing.

Starting 1995 he worked as "virtual studio IVAN MAXIMOV" where he set up his studio at home to work on film, video and computer animation. He worked as a caricaturist for VREMYA mn and in 2000 and 2001 he worked as a caricaturist for VREMYA NOVOSTEY.

In 2003, Maximov created the computer game Full Pipe[2] at PIPE-STUDIO.

In 2003 Maximov began teaching film directing and script writing at school-studio SHAR and VGIK.

In 2007, Mr. Maximov completed his latest work Rain Down from Above.

$2.75 at the Berkeley Flea Market

This one is deserving of a closer look

One month in.

Moving to Oakland accomplished, a proper studio remains out of reach for financial reasons. Frustrating, especially as it is completely impossible for Eric and I to keep a surface clean enough to work on. So all my supplies are boxes, paintings are bundled in plastic and put under the bed, and only a few sketch pads and pencils remain. Hopefully something will come of that.

For any interested parties, here's what I wrote in a (promptly deleted) diary sort of blog about moving.

Woke up crabby with a hint of bull in a china shop. Promptly stubbed my toe on everything we own, cursed it out, had some tea in a cup that turned out to be dirty, cursed at that too, knocked some more things over, then ran down the street to Peet's in the hopes that coffee will even me out. My cappuccino is 90% foam and I remain irritable.

California has been good to me so far, even through this morning's grumpiness. I continue to apply for jobs that are more in line with what I came here for (art, grad school, fame, fortune and fig trees) but am piecing together working as transcriptionist for art museums and jack-of-all-trades for a succulent nursery in Berkeley. This isn't a job I would feel comfortable committing to long-term, but I do enjoy the novelty of working in the California sunshine while picking dead leaves off of cacti with tweezers. It feels...California. I still don't quite know what that means. I think in my mind SF was LA but with hemp instead of botox, but it's really probably more like Seattle. Which I've never been to.

I'm enthralled by the hills on my side of the Bay. I can't believe how long I lived in the flat grayness of Chicago, how long I allowed myself to live without beauty like this. I truly love Chicago. I love it's square blocks and easy bike-rides, the bacchanalia of summer before the draconian winters. I suspect that I will tire of fig and olive trees, of organic food and awareness-of-all-causes. But that certainly hasn't happened this month.

Our studio apartment (especially in it's half-moved-into state) is crowded, but I do love it. When I wake in the morning, I see the whole world shrouded in fog. Two hours later the temperature has risen 30 degrees and as the sun clears the clouds I can see tiny ships in the Berkeley marina and the hills of Marin county. When the leaves die on the oak tree on the sidewalk, I'll be able to see all the buildings of San Francisco, which we only see now as twinkles between leaves at night. As the sun goes down, everything burns orange, and I watch the Ethiopian and Korean restaurants filter the street crowd. The library across the street has an open and closed sign so big I can read it from my kitchen table, and I go there to type and check e-mails. The lights are never on until nightfall, and all the windows are open. Sometimes there are bees resting on the covers of the Alice Waters book I want and I have to wait for them to get bored and fly away before I can learn about vinaigrette.

From the nursery I have been given many baby plants, most still attached to a fallen leaf of their mother plant. They line the windows and get so cold at night that I wonder they don't die. I've lost my cigarettes, but at night with the windows open the smoke blows back in, mingling with the smell of the daal Eric is preparing.

I get crabby. I can be mean. I yell at objects, even though it's me who put them in my way. But I'm happy.

I've successfully gotten my kicks.

Much to write about, much of it too much in the personal diary vein to be appropriate here, I think. I've recently completed my move to Oakland, California. Although perhaps that "completed" is a bit premature. The studio apartment we're currently renting month-to-month in the Laurel district has a bit of a flea problem, so we won't be staying long. For now everything is in storage except two suitcases, two plates, two cups, and a pot and a wok, plus an air bed and two sleeping bags. We have no internet so I'm posting this from the local Whole Foods, but we spend our days reading newspapers, playing cards, looking for work and exploring. Yesterday I spent the day at Baker Beach in San Francisco watching dolphins, starfish and a lone seal cavort in waves that humans aren't allowed to swim in for fear of drowning.

It's a cliche, but people are different here. I saw a nude man on the beach with a red parrot on his arm and a dog smaller than the parrot at his feet. A circle of women took turns disrobing and bowing face-down into the waves while the rest of the circle chanted, clapped and shook maracas. There is a man in my apartment building who looks like Samuel Beckett and talks like a toothless prophet, only about things like parking and bicycle tires. Our next-door neighbors have 6 marijuana pots in their backyard, partially shaded by an American flag. Plants are different as well; succulents are no longer for pots, but take the place of grass on the small urban lawns. Palm trees abound, as does every variety of eucalyptus known to man. Adjusting is fun and feels a bit like vacation. This will probably be the case until my cash runs out.

Our road to California was more or less the all-American Route 66 path, with some detours. Several minor disasters along the way (camping during a monsoon in New Mexico, a gallon of paint losing its top and turning the back of our truck my favorite gray, the loss of my iphone and nearly running out of gas in the Mojave) kept the vibe a little less than jovial, but it's funny how time changes things. Even the day after a let-down, I would find myself looking at videos from the day with a sort of nostalgia. Scratching my myriad bugbites with almost wistfully. To be sure, a great many good experiences took place, including a rare glimpe of the Milky Way from atop an Arizona peak.

But the most striking thing - and I this really struck me as we were eating a terrible lunch in a 1950s themed diner - is how the whole Route 66 experience had been gobbled up by THE ROUTE 66 EXPERIENCE. The best parts of our journey were the little discoveries made by mistake, not the cheesy "Indian Gift Shop" stops or diners that routinely served food that barely passed for such and called it "The Big Bopper Special". Scrambled billboards and rusted out Buicks dot the landscape as much as cattle, and there's truly a feeling of not visiting the past, but visiting something that has passed. I'm not sure if I'm able to communicate this properly yet. As soon as I have the capability, I'll upload some photos that will hopefully express it better than I can.