Friday, August 31, 2012

r.i.p. Thomas

I told Thomas to wear a floatie on his trip to Australia (he didn't listen to me). I have been told by his loved ones that according to the surgeon Thomas did not feel any pain when the great white decapitated him on his trip to Perth. Reattachment of his head was unsuccessful. His cousin Simon took the last moments of Thomas with his underwater CVS throwaway camera. Devastating seeing his smile all over again. Thomas was the one person who went out of his way to teach me that you can use orange juice or mango juice when making smoothies, not just yogurt. Thomas was oneofakind. When I drink my cold smoothies all I keep saying to myself is, "Good Times Tommy, Good Times."

I will never forget you. The things I learned from you with your big heart. You taught me how to use my head and not lose my head (no pun intended).  Rest in Peace my brother.  Good Times!


rip



A LETTER FROM THOMAS ONE DAY BEFORE HE PASSED AWAY

Dear friend Janey,

Remember me! I am Thomas (the smoothie meister), and I have been suffering from a great white shark attack and my doctor says that I have just two days to live. I am in Australia even though you urged me not to got. I never listen to anybody. Remember me, I am the business man that was trying to expand smoothie out-of-season fruit exportation.

Now that i am about to end the race like this, without any family all I have around me are hospital cupcake machines and thoughts of all the good times that I had with you and your artsy-fartsy smoothie self. Jane, I have $3 Million US DOLLARS in Australia Development Bank(ADB) which I instructed the bank to give (St Andrews Missionary Home) in Burkina Faso.But my mind is not at rest because I am writting this letter now through the help of my computer beside my sick bed with my head attempting to get reattached. My head is on crooked so I apologize for any typos or grammatical errors.


I also have $4.5 Million US Dollars at Bank Of Australia (BOA) here  i instructed the bank to transfer the money to the first foreigner that will apply to the bank after i have gone that they should release the fund to him/her,but you will assure me that you will take 50% of the money and give 50% to the open up a shark cupcake feeding orphanage in your country for my heart to rest with GOD.


Return back to me if you can handle this transfer project on my behalf before death cross my way so that i will send to you a copy my drivers license which you will show to the bank to make the bank know that I instructed you to contact them for the transfer of my fund with them to you, and also give to you the bank contact get the fund and fufill my dream of building an orphanage home full of cupcakes for shark attack victims in your country, waiting to hear from you. 


If you swim, stay out of the deep waters. And use mango juice always buddy. Don't lose your head.


Your sugar friend,

Mr. Thomas


good times:)

p.s. here is clip taken from his bedside of the tv show called "WOBBLE" that was used for the physical therapy part of my head attachment failed recovery period. Tommy wobbled his head three times before it fell off :(      ...

video



http://gma.yahoo.com/blogs/abc-blogs/great-white-shark-washes-ashore-officials-close-england-143625743--abc-news-topstories.html

© 2012 Artists Rights Society (ARS).
                                                                Copyright © 2012, Jane Public.All rights reserved.

BAS tonight and Clint texts Barack


BAS is a space located in Karaköy, Istanbul, initiated and run by artist Banu Cennetoglu. The project is centered on the display and collation of a significant inventory of artists’ publishing, and serves as resource, archive, and catalyst for the production of new titles. Founded by BAS along with artist Philippine Hoegen, Bent is a publishing imprint running since 2006 that focuses on the production and distribution of artists’ books from Turkey.

Cennetoglu’s own work often stems from her engagement with books, and specifically the published photographic image as a context-specific carrier of information. Having studied psychology in Istanbul, she went on to study photography in Paris, and moved to New York in 1996 working principally as a photographer for publications such as Purple and Self Service. Her subsequent shift to the production and circulation of work within an art context, has been embedded in a consideration of photography, and by extension informational media, as volatile and subject to displacement through economies of taste and degrees of access.
For her presentation at Artists Space, Cennetoglu will speak about the formation of BAS, and the imprint Bent, as aspects of her artistic practice. She will also touch on how the projects are situated within the broader cultural landscape in Istanbul, particularly in relation to the production of artists’ books and some of the titles Bent has published.
Banu Cennetoglu will participate in a group exhibition at Artists Space in 2013. Her recent solo exhibitions include Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm, Kunsthalle Basel (2011) and Sample Sale – 2010 BC, Rodeo Gallery, Istanbul (2010). Her work has been shown at institutions including Nicosia Municipal Arts Centre, Cyprus (2012); Kumu Art Museum, Estonia (2011); Arter, Istanbul (2010); La Centre de la Photographie Geneve, Switzerland (2010); La Coleccion Jumex, Mexico (2008); San Francisco Art Institute, USA (2007); Walker Art Center, USA (2007).

BAS / Bent

Banu Cennetoglu









P.S.  “Clint Eastwood on the phone with Obama now, ‘It all went according to plan, sir,’”   texted Eastwood.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Hitchcock and Warhol talking about my smoothies

They are actually trying to rip me off.  Conniving bastards !  BYE!



P.S. Amy is in Tampa covering the RNC. The daughter of a billionaire just snatched and busted up Amy's videocamera. Very true, Jane ain't joking. Conniving bastards are galore in Tampa too(at the moment).



snap. imagines a pond. snaps again. that's all 4 now folks.





Power Off, bye.




Excuse me sir, but is that thing a banana ? ?

Lampooned by a cob disguised as a banana with a reasonable sale price that I was now forced to come up with. 29 cents. and yes, I took a bite outta that thing. accidentally. tooth cracked. anutha day in da hood called Life.


This is a vegetable blog. a healthier bye.





Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Look what the(my) cat dragged in (cat_means_postman)

Now what Jane?  You seem all tingly inside. um, thanks (I think). Well when I get off of the elevator I must begin to take the first steps and prepare to digitally scan these 4 hand-processed rolls of film into a HighDefinition digital format (a lengthly frame-by-frame scanning process that will include 8mm film sprockets and all) for editorial purposes and an exhibition print. And then what Janey?  then what my sweetness? um, then of course edit, edit, record unscripted dialogues, edit & takeoffthefatsome more
and because I am feeling so generous right now with you here comes one unsolicited enormous big ass Duh.


ttfn   but thinking about Rachel Corrie and her parents this week. You should too.      

http://rachelcorriefoundation.org/








Tuesday, August 28, 2012

within the past week...

Yes, it's true. Jane ate this. Yes, the food on this plate (see image above). "No sour cream please," Jane said  "...be careful, the plate is hot," they said. The dish was fully loaded. Obviously. "But why tell us ("us" meaning YOU the nosey blog reader) about what you ate during the past week, sweet Janey? (i.e. within the past 7 days) that seems like a lot of crap on that plate up there.  doesn't it ? Hello!...."

Jane's polite answer:  Because I wanted to let you know. that's all. it's as simple as that. I am very polite.



burp.
btw when I was a kid I had a german shepherd named Queenie. 
I wonder if Queenie would've eaten the food off from my plate above. Do you? Probably so. duh Dogs.



email from Josh

Hey Jane.   So the film is done.  I hand-developed all of the 8mm material. no corrosion problems despite the stocks that you used to film. Everything came out well--even the K40 has image (Its a black and white negative).  Im especially pleased with the Tri-X.  I will send out ASAP. Visually, the stuff is stunning. 
Josh


upcoming interesting exhibition:

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Charming the Atlas that keeps getting "shrugged"



Fact: Ryan gave his entire staff a copy of ATLAS SHRUGGED (prior to becoming Romney's charming selection).


p.s. I love Aimee and she has her new album CHARMER out in September.  xoxo!
http://www.aimeemann.com/
The long awaited new album from Aimee Mann, Charmer, will be released September 18 on Superego Records. Influenced by what Mann calls the "super pop" of the 70s and 80s, the album is her first release since 2008's celebrated @#%&*! Smilers. Of Charmer, her eighth studio album, Aimee comments, "I'm fascinated by charming people and the whole idea of charm."





Friday, August 24, 2012




"You are here, the film is there, it is neither fascism nor entertainment."  - Michael Snow 



TEASER LINKS:    https://vimeo.com/48169821

                             https://vimeo.com/48179121





© 2012 Artists Rights Society (ARS).
Copyright © 2012, Jane Public.
All rights reserved.




Thursday, August 23, 2012

Made my first smoothie ever !!!!


and I swallowed 3 cups. and I now feel healthier than a racetrack horse on human growth steroids.
bye. (I was told today by a russian fanatic of my work that on my blogs I am a ranting maniac who does summersaults through tandgents and always manage to return to my original point. Gee Thanks. See, I did it again. Rant, rant, rant, and da original point was: BYE)

p.s. I want to see the new french film, LITTLE WHITE LIES very badly. No time. sadness :(I love Marion Cotillard.



ARTISTS PORTRAITS ( gallery exhibition series )








PORTRAITS taken by/for an upcoming photographer's show in NY and UK.
Traveling series photo exhibition presenting various international independent artists. Jane Public is included in selections made.

More info posted as info arrives.




Ellen Kooi , Photographer
Born 1962, Leeuwarden, The Netherlands

The large-scale photographs by Ellen Kooi challenge us to view the world as a dramatic narrative. She wants us to seek the border between fantasy and reality. At first glance, the people that inhabit these landscapes seem to be at the mercy of their surroundings. But if we look at these pictures more carefully we see a more complex relationship, as the landscape almost responses to its inhabitants. The displays of nature we see are a symbolic reflection of the inner turmoils, or indeed of the happiness of these people. In a way comparable tot nineteenth century psychological portraits, kooi tries to tell us about myths, chance encounters and our relationship with the outside world. But keeping this in mind, her works are as much concerned with the landscape as they are with the person. By forming close connections between themes set in our visual memory of history but never choosing a main focus, Kooi's works are suspensefull and hard to identify.
Using her experience in photographing both theatre and dance, Kooi creates scenes that feel familiar but look magical. Her refined techniques allow her to photograph landscapes in a way that we fail too see them. While some seem to focus on the fairytale qualities of her work, there also is a grimmer side to them. Subjects who at first seem to be frolicking may actually be running away scared or even petrified. A gorgeous woman doesn't gaze at the beautiful landscape, she sees the oncoming industry behind it. Like the solitary figures in the works of Caspar David Friedrich, the inhabitants of the world of Ellen Kooi are always both in awe and in distress. The contrast between a personal world of fantasy and surrounding elements that are both real and symbolic form the richness of Koois work.





© 2012 Artists Rights Society (ARS).
Copyright © 2012.
All rights reserved.



Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Pamela has a prostate problem - written 8/21/12

"You need to accept the fact that you have a hard-on for being healthy right now lady. You’re being ridiculous. You can blame me screaming at you on this bullsh*& prostate thing, but I know and everyone on this grocery line knows that women don't have prostates! I told you a million times already that I don’t carry “Airborne!”  Now get the hell outta my store you lunatic!” 

The grocery store clerk was furious as he screamed this stuff at Pamela in front of the three nervous customers that were next on line.  

" F you and relax Leroy", Pamela muttered.

"My name ain't Leroy, it's Merle! Get out of my store!”

"Relax Merle. I'm dying and I'm a woman and people will listen to what I have to say. Have some fu%^&in respect. All I asked you for was a discount on a box of “Airborne”  that your cheap store doesn't even carry. Chill out, I didn’t steal anything. It’s not a crime to feel sick. I was told that “Airborne” stops urinary dripping. I cannot stop pissing all over my pants now that my prostate is growing outta control. I’m going to Walmart to buy pampers that are on sale this week and I’ll just get the “Airborne”  there too."

"Get the hell out of my store you nutjob and don't even think about pissing on my waxed floor or walkin’ around here in pampers! Go to Walmart and get out!", screamed Merle (who Pamela still wanted to call Leroy).

"My God, you're gonna give me high blood pressure. And just so you know, the prostate is a walnut-sized gland located around the bladder area. Of men!" Merle started to compassionately calm himself down. "I recommend you find a vegetarian that sells nuts.

“It is the responsibility of a serious person not to be a fool”, someone on the grocery line said.

This prostate problem that Pamela was inventing became very real to her. It could have been a symptom of frustration, she wasn’t sure yet. Pamela lived alone in a boring flat at 55 years of age. She lived hidden (from people).  She lived tormented (by others). She lived disgusted (with herself, she was sure about that one). Pamela was angry at all of the bad choices that she had made in her life. She was mad that she intentionally dated older emotionally unavailable divorced men. And she had become even angrier at the fact that she had spent an enormous amount of saved money on stupid internet dating sites. She seemed to have become fed up.

“I am not a cougar.”
“I am not a cougar.”
“I am not a cougar.”

Obviously you are not a cougar Pamela if you are not dating younger men, I thought. Could we actually be looking at a bonafide online spinster here? Is there really such a thingWould Pamela continue to troll the World Wide Web looking for that “special one?” Not anymore. Pam (I will begin to call her Pam now, just for the hell of it) has invented a whole new problem for herself today. Pam has decided to have an enlarged prostate. Pam has decided that her condition has become terminal. Pam wants to be cremated and scattered on a high-class road that she has picked out in France . If she plays her cards right, and if she spends enough time on Expedia.com, she thought, she can do it. 

Pam cried and washed a pile of shattered dishes as her puppy dog Ginger farted and wagged its tail. The dog was foolish and staring at the round-trip ticket to France that was lying on the floor. Ginger wanted to eat it. Ginger wanted to eat this ticket very badly.

"Ginger, you would look like a fool if you ate my ticket", Pam whispered. “They never saw my body in Europe after I died because I have already arranged to have my body cremated you little dummy.”

The whole urinary drip thing would eventually lead to a serious infection that would instigate a premature death that would make her dog look very stupid. Pam was right about that.  Also, her death would operate as a means to make everyone at Merle’s store this morning feel really bad for her. Pam focused on this “suspension of disbelief” that she was living. This was part of the construction work that she was very good at doing (she was always interested in construction work as a child, she rarely mentions that she was a tomboy).

“She died broke, lonely and afraid”, Pam muttered.

That is how Pam wanted her epitaph to read. That is how Pam wanted her life to be described in the local newspaper (in English and in the French language then translated to various important newspapers around the world).  Prior to booking her flight to Paris , Pam purchased an array of moo-moo gowns. Why? That sounds crazy right? I thought the same thing, that sounds crazy.



"Since I am dying relatively young, but old enough for hanging flab, I want everything to reflect how I have decided to live my life now. I want everything to hang loose", she said to the dog. 

Pam had reached a turning point that she had been looking for for a very long time. Pam had been looking to be strengthened by an experience. But what would this experience be? She wanted to be able to verbally describe her turning point at its momentum.

"Pick up your panties high", she confided to herself. She refused to succumb to vulnerability despite her glossy toenails that glimmered false hope. “I am a tomboy.”

Pam remembered that crisis intervention must remain time-limited. Pam had to use the bathroom again. Pam would only use the toilet for a quick minute, she thought. She immediately became hungry after the flush.

"I must remain fed, vital and strong until my flight to France . Yes. Pick up my pampers high".

After all Pamela (I will begin to call her Pamela now rather than Pam out of respect for the dead) had been a crisis counselor prior to the disclosure and self-diagnosis of this enlarged prostate. The landscape of experience was vast, certain and unrewarding after it had become altered on September 11th, 2001. The prevalence of social and psychological stress had increased dramatically in recent years for Pamela.

“Could stress related to fear of a future terrorism attack have contributed to this hypochondria?”,I wondered. Pamela's prostate swelling may very well have been crisis-induced.




"You never kick a man when he's down," she projected to me (e.g. hostage situations, bio-terrorism, threats of drive-by shootings). Her career as a crisis-counselor was flat out trauma-provoking. This job had become her personal natural disaster (and this was the reason that she quit her last job and gave herself a hemorrhoid before diverting circumstances to a prostate).  

Pamela’s door was being pounded on relentlessly. Her phone started ringing off the hook. She peeked through a window curtain and recognized the intruder. It was her parole officer.

"Open up Pam. I explained to you that I can, and will, come see you randomly, and at anytime, at any hour, sometimes even at 3am. You need to pay attention to the front door ringer. I have been here banging for a half an hour and I see you peeking at me now. I mean what I'm saying Pam, you hear", declared Leroy. Leroy was the name of Pamela's parole officer (I will keep calling her Pamela now, but her P.O. will be  callin’ her Pam as you have noticed. It’s no big deal, just a legal thing). 

“It is the responsibility of a serious person not to be a fool”, Leroy said furiously.

Leroy asked Pamela to listen carefully to her advice. "Pam, I got some serious phone calls about you yesterday. Pam, as you get older your body changes. You are not going to die in France with any prostate problem that you have invented because you are not allowed to travel outside of this house after 7pm. Pam, the bottom line here, and the reason that I came by today is to inform you that you are most likely going to die of a broken heart soon. Last year, after your were released from your sentence, you had a minor heart attack. Remember that? You got upset about the extension placed on your release hearing.  The stint used to save your life during surgery will fail. The doctor called us yesterday. We need to talk about what is going to happen to you. Your body will feel inexplicable pain, and your heart is going to explode. I am sorry to break this news to you like this because it’s not my job. I don’t get paid to be honest with you. You are going to die soon from a matter of the heart".

There was immediate peace and silence.



“Sad”, Pamela thought to herself.  “I have become what I was always told that I would be in life. I am a consequential spoiler”.

"Open up the door Pam. You're not going to be allowed to go to any damn airport. Open the door now."

This realization made her panicky. Pamela began throwing ceramic coffee mugs at her dog. It farted and wagged its tail at her.  Another dog started barking, and that dog bark was not one that she recognized. Sirens sounded from the back area of her home. Pamela then stopped reacting to everything. She allowed her dog to eat the flight ticket that was lying on the floor. Her dog farted. Pamela stood in a daze. Thinking (it was not a one-way ticket folks). Muttering (that she was not a subversive informant). Grumbling (I don't fit the profile for this kind of bi-weekly aggravated harassment). Crying privately (Pamela and Pam was forced to learn how to let go).

And her prostate problem simply just went away.


The End 



© 2012 Artists Rights Society (ARS).
Written by Jane Public, inspired by scrap notes and newspaper images.
Copyright © 2012, Jane Public.
All rights reserved.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFdhIcldb0w