Intentional Accidents

NEW YEARS CHEERS

2006-12-26T22:43:00.000-05:00

no, EW isn't over yet

2006-10-23T16:27:00.000-04:00

Well we are preparing for hiberation and a masters thesis. Just finished the second to last song and dance for the year, or at least until the New Years Conference. As part of Elsewhere's new programatic framework, Process Programming (working title) Elsewhere host 9 University of Michigan Graduate MFA students under the tutalage of Professor Dan Price. Check out there work and thoughts on their blog at

http://vs-elsewhere.blogspot.com/

A big thanks to the crew from U. Mich. It was an excellent event lasting for a week. I think they created fantastic works that nudged the space forward in some interesting ways, and most importantly, I think they all quite naturally explored their media and processes in our unique framework. Anyone out there reading this and involved in a university, MFA setting wants to set up a similar program please drop Elsewhere a note and we would be happy to begin this project with you.

Best to all, see you for Halloween on Friday 27th~~ Its going to be Mad-Nest!

Bye Bye Elsewhere

2006-07-23T18:04:00.000-04:00

Hi I am gone and back in Minneapolis

Collaborative Writing

2006-07-21T23:17:00.000-04:00

I'm working on transforming a space here at Elsewhere that was filled with junk into a sci-fi set. And I'm writing a story to fill the space. After I leave Elsewhere, other artists will come in and use the desks I've build in the space to work on their own projects. As they work, the space, and its story, will affect them, while they also affect the space and story.

You can get in all this too. You can help write the story. Just go to http://scifielsewhere.pbwiki.com/ (the password is "teamwork"). You can help edit, invent a new character, expand the stories, or jump in wherever you see an opening.

For now, as I continue to work on the space, I'm serving as a direct link between the space as the story as it evolves. After I leave, the two peices will continue to grow and develope, still, if perhaps more distantly, linked together.

The story is about a space colonization ship on which all the adults are simulataneous killed while in their deep sleep chambers by a computer error.

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

You Must Make Sure Your Chimney Stays Warm

2006-07-16T15:58:00.000-04:00

2006-07-15T01:56:00.000-04:00

There is a Story I Forgot to Tell You (Part 3)

This is How We Lived Before You (working title)

Dweller: 1. to live as a resident; reside
2. to exist in a given place or state

Watcher: 1. one that watches or observes
2. one who keeps vigil

Habitat: 1. the area or environment where an organism or ecological community normally
lives or occurs
2. the place where a person or thing is most likely to be found
3. a structure that affords a controlled environment for living in extremely
inhospitable locations

A portal was discovered during the excavation of this room/spot. Explorer (the excavator) decided to go through to see what was on the other side. Here Explorer found the Dwellers. The Dwellers are planters and players. They live off of Ribbelinchia (rough translation), a long sprawling plant of many colors and uses. Explorer admired the Dwellers and their homeland but decided that one cannot plant and play all the time. With this the Explorer headed back to the portal, tromping through a large patch of Ribbelinchia.

Ribbelinchia is a very hearty, one might say invasive, plant. It can grow in many dimensions and environments, and apparently oxygen and dust are one of its favorite places to live. Coming through the portal Explorer began to spread the Ribbelinchia through the space. A passerby notices the growing screamed and shut the door to the space. Little by little the space started to transform and so did Explorer.

Also, a little thing for you

2006-07-14T13:47:00.000-04:00

brief

2006-07-14T13:36:00.000-04:00

opening tonight 8pm
more images and things to come, it has been very busy, I have been very busy

So He's Not Quite a Possum

2006-07-04T02:43:00.000-04:00

The room has been excavated and now washed. At one time a possum lived there, I was expecting to find a skeleton but all that was found was a rib bone.

something seeping

2006-07-02T17:53:00.000-04:00

Part of the ceiling is missing in the ribbon room. as the room was being excavated little bags of ribbon started seeping through the slats of the exposed ceiling.

Stuffed Hazmat Suits, Components of a Good Blog Post

2006-06-29T20:33:00.000-04:00

I have a theory that a good blog post necessarily includes both a written and a visual component, a peice of a writing with a cleverly matched drawing or a photo with a description or related quip. But today I have some photos (those are hazmat suits stuffed with foam, by the way) that no words could improve. But now that I've written this, I've met my standards anyway.

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

Bathrooms

2006-06-29T02:59:00.000-04:00

The restroom of the 606-side is used exclusively as a kitchen sink, the restroom of 608 used as a restroom. The 606 toilet works, but is left unused. Also note, as relevant to restrooms in the below picture: we continue to be a place that doesn't having paying customers.

This is the 608 restroom door:

The other day a visitor asks me if he can use our restroom as he walks toward the 606 one. I say sure, but he should go around to the back of the other side of the store, because we don't use this one as a bathroom. He asks if there's a broken toilet. I try to say no, but I'm not sure how to explain, get chocked-up, and can't articulate myself at all. He asks again, and I fail to make it clear that it's not about the toilet, it's just our system, though I do manage to convince him to head to the other side. He walks away saying, I believe, that he didn't know the toilet was broken.

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

The Ruler and the Tabletop

2006-06-28T01:12:00.000-04:00

He'd named the ruler Manifold. The a-perfect length of 12 inches, softened the edge by centimeters. The rulers face showed the quarter marks in grayed chisel, an indention left by impress across the smooth fingerprints of time. The dirt sullied in a gully. The black mark of pen and scrape of charcoal long winded upon the surface, while the etched bars, red and black like a typewriter ribbon, segmented, girded, and delineated a precise vision of inches in ending and beginning. The downward angling face met the edge of the desk:

"My mornings are on top!" she said politely as light appeared beside the shadow of a paper riffling to the fan blade's blowing.
The ruler nodded acutely, "I Spent winters with Shelly where we didn't know what temperature it was "

"She's just about been on the side of each season. though. Tablet, smiled, "she showed herself off as being a bit more scrappy, slinder and lean when the dumpster food was to frozen to even cut at with an ice pick."
Shelly was a mouse with large ears, spectacles, a brown nose and a ranch style red housedress with lace ruffle running down the shoulders. She'd lived diligently through two summers and a winter, which was about as long as anyone could count.

"Twelve months" retorted Manifold, bowing out of discussion with the tabletop to address the fingerprints slowly rubbing their way into the mechanics of the story.

"I remember once," tablet interrupted, "that Shelly found a mite or some small beetle scurrying atop the jar. She tracked it down like a cat, slowly sniffing her way toward it, keeping it ever close to the jar's interpretive interface,"

"The bottom of the jar," followed Manifold,

"Yes, she moused the mite, you might say, into the transparent crevice in order to easily pinch it between her two sharp canines, which, if you’ll recall, hung slightly over the curve of her mouth."

"Those teeth were less apparent in the summer when her cheeks were puffy and warm with meat."
Manifold laughed and turned over revealing a ray of angles, a sunrise protracted across the rectangular surface. The afternoon shuttled to its conclusion. The short pause which spoke of relevant exhaustion spread thinly between loosely linked nouns and verbs: an exhale and an inhale, the former from the mouth, the latter from the nose. The alliterative adverb remained auspiciously invested, but not without sighing, "wine dark sea!" There skipped a record like a cliché, passing through someone else's sidelong glance to retrieve the frisbee.

I Have Better Aim

2006-06-26T15:58:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I said: "I've been trying to think about the relationship between objects and writing." And in the time that's passed, I've been thinking. I think a bit of an answer is in metaphors. A think a bit more is here, found on the shelf above the toilet:

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

YARD SALE!!!

2006-06-24T20:09:00.000-04:00

today I held a yard sale in the room I am working on. there were some items I just didn't need after cleaning out the space. Buttons and songs were the currency of the day.

hmmm?

2006-06-21T11:36:00.000-04:00

Explorer received a message this morning on the floor of the cave, "Not Do". Should Explorer stop? Is this the wrong place for Explorer to be looking? Not sure, going to push forward, not trying to be rude or aggressive.

Telethon!

2006-06-20T13:26:00.000-04:00

"This is my brother, George. He lost his wheels in the war."

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

My Desk

2006-06-20T00:38:00.000-04:00

My desk-- Ignore the paper and junk on all sides and above it and focus on the space that's mine, the surface of the desk. The other desks are cluttered and covered, but I keep my clear and simplistic. I think of it a display, as a tribute, as something other than a desk.

In the center of the desk are a number of objects, numbered, on a tray. They are a work-in-progress. I'm currently writing the accompanying written portion.

The manikins: I was looking forward to the manikins before I got to Elsewhere. I'd seen them in the pictures online. Unlike the manikins most stores, these are allowed to be touched. I was always see the manikin and want to play with them, but never can. But now, what fun!

The sad puppy: He looks so adorable. So I put him on my desk.

The sad puppy guarding the hand with the sign asking people not to disturb my work in progress:

The other manikin arm holds the trophy.

The trophy: the 2006 first place Greensboro Day School chess trophy appeared in our mailbox. I claimed it.

I don't actually use my desk, usually preferring to sit on a couch, whether I'm reading, writing, or using my computer.

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

Long, star, fish eggs

2006-06-19T19:34:00.000-04:00

tiptiptiptiptiptiptiptiptiptip

2006-06-17T23:22:00.000-04:00

Ari where are you?

Found Yesterday, Bagging White Ribbon in the Ribbon Room

2006-06-16T11:12:00.000-04:00

Father: 'You know son, if you're going outside with that racket, you ought to put some pants on first."

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

Explorer finds a portal

2006-06-15T16:40:00.000-04:00

While cleaning the ribbon room Explorer came across a portal. It was cleaverly hidden under a box of ribbon. Being the kind of folk that likes to know where and how things go Explorer jumped in. Fishfish was there to greet Explorer. "You have stumbled upon a very useful secret," Fishfish explained "you better not abuse it"

The twins' health hasn't been the same since she left

2006-06-15T16:36:00.000-04:00

Ribbon Room: Pre and Post fabric bag move

2006-06-13T20:36:00.000-04:00

And an armadillo to boot

Fabric Workshop Wall

2006-06-12T19:12:00.001-04:00

2006-06-12T19:12:00.000-04:00

Ribbon Room: Phase I

2006-06-12T19:09:00.000-04:00

Here are some images of the ribbon room. Stuff is going to happen so keep and eye out....

Naked Dolls

2006-06-11T18:04:00.000-04:00

I found a naked Ken doll in the Baby-doll War Room. I was disappointed by its lack of anatomical correctness. Then, I studied it a bit more. There are three ways I can present this:

1) Turn the tables by covering the lack with a cleverly added naked Barbie.

But that’s just immature…

2) Make a joke about his pride in his sex-change operation.

Which would also be pretty immature…

Or: 3) Just point out the actual weird truth, revealing the weird compromise of the manufacturer’s values (they don’t want it dirty, they don’t want it misleading, but they still want it to look naked), that is: flesh-colored briefs included on the doll’s body:

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

ready set grow.

2006-06-11T12:31:00.000-04:00

I was found hanging out with Rainbow Bright and Rainbow Bright and the boy who is friends with Rainbow Bright But I can't remember his name. It was great because I forgot where I came from and this surely helped. As you can see I am very happy to be found. Anyway this is a picture of our neighborhood and this is a picture of the farms we work on. I live in little people world. I sleep on a beautifully patterned couch with all my Rainbow Bright friends. It can be confusing because one might think they all look alike (I know better). We are all imports to Elsewhere, we were saved from destuction when our home was bulldozed to make way for a shopping mall, so it goes. I hope some day to move into the A-frame house across the room, it has a fish pond and a stone path and lawn furniture, but what I really like is that the windows are big and their is a porch with little hearts carved into the banister.

Art! No!

2006-06-09T16:22:00.000-04:00

The two twins wave their fists from opposite sides of the giant typewriter. One pounds: "ART ART ART" - the other pounds back: "NO NO." -- The debate rages on until a giant bumps into the table and the two precariously balanced heros' tumble down.

---

A students of creative writing and literature with an internship at Elsewhere? How am I justifying this two month stay in regards to my program of study? -- Well, (aside from trying to write about the space) I've been trying to think about the relationship between objects (like all those Elsewhere is filled with) and writing.

I was thinking:
If you have a sad looking toy and you write "DEATH" over it, it changes the meaning in a very particular, concise sort of way. And perhaps you could get the same sort of thing with a lot of death-toy-imagery, like some toy coffins and the like, but the word carries a sharp meaning and is usually more efficient in conveying it. Yet, the crying toy still has the emotional heart-wrenching visual aspect that the writing just can't capture in that sort of way.

I was thinking:
Writing can either be paired with the objects in an internal or an external sort of way. By which I mean: You can create the words with the material that's already there, like shaping toys into letters, or using letter-blocks, or having little action figures stand on letters of keyboards (as above, in the picture). Or you can write the text somewhere else, like the internet or a piece of paper, and juxtapose that against the objects (as above: the picture and the description above it).

---

I arranged the action figures and typewriter on my second day here (Tuesday). Those damn figures kept falling as I tried to get them set up right. I finally did, but then I didn't know how to use the camera and then I didn't have access to the blog. And before those boundaries were passed (as they are now), a giant bumped into the table and the debate was disrupted as the two precariously balanced heroes fell. And then, after those boundaries were passed, the set was reconstructed, the photos taken, and the blog post made.

-Dan Copulsky, dan@copulsky.com

here I am!

2006-06-09T12:33:00.000-04:00

hi to you from here and there and Elsewhere.
It is noon and a three fourths here
Joseph is making Tiramisu
Stephanie and Dara washed clothes yesterday
and so much has happened since I got here Saturday afternoon, a little recap
released my collection from last year back into the larger collection, with little tags for tracking
made a curtain for the bathroom and butt cushions for sitting
working on the fabric workshop
thinking about the ribbons I am going to play with and am a little anxious about it
traveled down a rabbit hole and made it back
went swimming and have eaten yummy dinners

Well that will do to start, hope you are well

2006-06-05T20:12:00.000-04:00

hey I'm working now

Wow welcome to the new school

2006-06-05T19:36:00.000-04:00

Top notch farmers
knot the ppilloow wind the rain.
Simple answers dance between scraps
posters posters
and more poster board

Intentional Accidents

2006-04-21T20:40:00.000-04:00

Intentional Accidents

2006-03-29T20:56:00.000-05:00

2006-03-29T20:42:00.000-05:00

the hoards are coming!!!!

Linkages to a world unbeknownst

2006-03-25T18:44:00.000-05:00

High this is modern science checking in, houston, we have turn keys
--hot dog with a stick!

Eric Perra's Blog

2005-08-16T14:10:00.000-04:00

Artist in residence Eric Perra has been with us for several weeks now and is developing a comprehensive system of traffic and transportation to graph onto the space and into and installation in our front window. He is quite a blogger and has been keeping a detailed journal with lots of pictures at his blog at
www.describedwell.blogspot.com
check it out...

An attempt to video blog or vlog

2005-08-05T20:54:00.000-04:00

blooooooooot, spleeeeeeeeep, meeepyweepy green jeans

2005-07-31T15:55:00.000-04:00

Angela sees more

2005-07-20T15:29:00.000-04:00

2005-07-20T15:28:00.000-04:00

2005-07-20T15:21:00.000-04:00

2005-07-20T15:19:00.000-04:00

even more...thanks Angela...keep them coming

2005-07-20T15:09:00.000-04:00

More from Angela

2005-07-20T15:05:00.000-04:00

Some Photos from Angela

2005-07-20T14:58:00.000-04:00

Waiting,waiting,waiting,waiting,waiting,waiting,waiting,waitingwaintgeiantgineaintwaintg

2005-06-19T23:51:00.000-04:00

02:10 pm: Today, I am waiting
I am waiting for a package from the people in brown, United Postal Service. They are to be here between the hours of 9 am and 7 pm. Other than that I have no details about when. And so today I am waiting. There is not always someone here and this package is my bed and I really want it. I have been sleeping in a child's bed with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sheets that are old and have little balls of fabric all over them (there is a word for that but I can't remember it). The mattress is not so much a mattress but some foam folded over a few times. It has been fine for a little while but now that I have my room there is the possibility for me not to bunk with the turtles anymore. And so today I am waiting.
Having been forced into this situation by the vagueness of UPS I am taking this opportunity to consider waiting. In my life, when I think about waiting hospitals and mail boxes come to mind. Waiting for Drew to be born, waiting to see him, waiting for Caroline after her accident, waiting to see her in the ICU, waiting to be admitted to the emergency room with an ear infection or sprained ankle. Waiting for letters from home at camp, waiting for college acceptance letters.
I also think about women waiting at home for husbands returning from work, from the fields, from the bar, from war or for a letter telling them not to wait anymore. I think about the piece in Womanhouse by Faith Wilding called “Waiting” and the she sits in a chair and rocks back and forth as she lists all of the things that women are told to wait for. I think about MLK and his explanation that the civil rights movement could not wait. And about the current struggle for gay marriage and the people who have been told to wait and are still being told to wait.
I think about all of the things that people do while they wait. I have been reading, and eating and wondering around the space unable to leave. I am weaving, like Penelope wait for Odysseus, but I don't unravel my weaving but only continue to look for more things to weave. I will probably find my knitting at some point. I am writing this and catching up on correspondence.
And I look for a sign that the waiting is over, like I am sure so many of the people I have mentioned did. Every time a car drives by my heart jumps and every time I think someone is at the door I jump. In hopes that I can stop waiting. I am waiting to stop waiting.

Bloomsday

2005-06-17T13:51:00.000-04:00

Current Mood: waiting
01:51 pm: Bloomsday
Yesterday was Bloomsday the anniversary of the day described in Ulysses by James Joyce. In order to celebrate this momentous (so I have been told) day the collaborative put up posters advertising that we would be doing thing on the day. At eight in the morning (which is when the book begins) kidneys were served to reflect the meal in the book. Then the reading began the goal was to read the book aloud. During this time the listeners would collect objects from the space in that reflected the story. And of course wine and Guniuss were served according to what was being had in the book.
So from eight until about 12 o'clock the book was read outside. Several people had seen the posters and came by and celebrated and read. Then the group move to Mcoul's the local Irish pub. We stayed until two reading the book and discussing favorite chapters and then reading those. At two we went home, the book not fully read but a good portion of it.
I have never read the book, so I talked with different people about their experience reading the book and why they now have a dedication to it. George took a week off of life and read it straight through along with the reading companion that explains the references. Afterwards, he believed that there was nothing else to be published. Ever. In the subsequent week he stopped speaking.
Steph read it over several months and believes that after the way Joyce has written about things there is very little else to say about them. (Example: water is an exhausted topic).
Dan began to read Joyce in 2002 (his words not mine). He saw Ulysses as a mountain to back tackled and ever since he climbed that summit in the last year or so he has read and reread the book.
I only read one Joyce story, Portrait. I don't really like Joyce. Please don't tell anyone.

2 weeks of productive

2005-06-17T13:09:00.000-04:00

01:09 pm: The last two weeks
So...In the last two weeks I have been unbelievably productive.
I went to Boston to see my friend Ben graduate. He attended Harvard and they make quite a shindig out of the whole affair. I went to several ceremonies ad heard multiple speakers. Most were good some were not. Then I helped Ben move out of one dorm in to another where he will stay for a week before moving yet once again. Boston provided us (Ben, his brother and I) with some of the grossest weather of all time. Really hot and humid my least favorite. Anyway I had a great time and in between events saw flashes of gay pride. Oh, the rainbows.
So back in NC the weather followed me. And given that in addition to no electricity and running water there is also no air conditioning I continue to sweat pounds of water. I am in the final stages of completing my room up stairs. It has been a monuments task but I feel like I have accomplished so much. The process began before I even arrived here in NC. The room had to be cleared of stuff that had been moved up there from the ground floor. After I got back from Boston I scraped the peeling paint off of the walls with the help of Bridget, one of the artist in residence. Because the paint is presumable lead we both wore elaborate gas mask looking thing in order to stave off any brain damage. I also had to pull up the linoleum from the floor. This was also presumed to be toxic (asbestos this time) and so the mask continued to be worn. Underneath we found all this new paper from the late 50's. We saved it and read sections of it. There was a full-page ad about a cigarette then was the most frequently smoked by scientist and educator. The brand of the brains kind of statement. There was also an article about a new fitness fad called "yoga".
So once that was finnished, parts of the ceiling had to be knocked down. Then the first of many many cleanings began. Then the walls need to be primed. Then the painting began. The back wall and the doors and trim are a shiny florescent green and the other three walls were painted a bright spring green. Unfortunately it did not cover very well and needed a second coat but I ran out of that paint so I painted it the closest thing I had which is like a dark Kelly green and it is flat so we will see how that works. Then I swept and mopped and mopped again. The water always came out looking like tar. I bought a little machine that is one f my favorite things of all time now. It is a vacuum cleaner on one side and on the other side it shoots out water and soap and then scrubs the floor and the squeegees it back up. I have used it about five times and it is great. However, I am beginning to understand that in this place there is no clean but only cleaner and that will have to accepted.
So once the room was ready it was time for furniture. I ordered an inflatable bed on line and it is supposed to be delivered today. I found a great end table that I will use for a bedside table by the company Lane. When I was younger my grandmother gave me a box by Lane that was so beautiful and it had a lock and a key (which I promptly lost). I also found a large table up stairs and then I put that together for a worktable. I am going to bring up my sewing machine and make stuff. I also found an old ice chest (it looks like a fridge but with out the plug. So I cleaned out that and I am going to use that as a dresser drawer. I am going to get some PVC and make a clothes rack.
There is also an old stove that I want to make into a vanity. But it is going to require allot of cleaning so for now I found another table.
I am so excited to have my own space.
I also sent out four applications for the fall. I am so excited about the possibilities in New York. I know that I am so qualified for these jobs I just hope that the institutions agree.

Current Mood: accomplished

The Hair Saga continues

2005-06-04T21:38:00.000-04:00

June 4th, 2005
09:38 pm: The Hair is finished
So today I went to Great Clips, a super cuts like establishment. A very nice woman skeptically indulged my request and I walked out 20 minutes later with a Mohawk. It is hot, shaved sides with hair long down the middle.
And of course I saved the hair for the hair jar at the space.
I also cleaned and took a nap and went to the gym.

My Hair part II

2005-06-03T23:18:00.000-04:00

June 3rd, 2005
11:18 pm: A Dream Come True
Current Mood: ecstatic
So tonight I cut my hair tonight. Cutting my hair has always been a pleasure that I enjoy. Tonight I realized a dream of cutting my own hair. It was so satisfying to cut my own hair. To hear the scissors slice through each strand. And then there was this chunk of hair in my hand. The piles around my feet continue to grow into a substantial pile of dark brown hair.
This was so much fun.

The Sexy Thoughts on the Day of the Sexy Party

2005-06-02T16:33:00.000-04:00

June 2nd, 2005
Current Mood: contemplative
04:33 pm: NOW
My hair must go.

Current Mood: sexy
04:34 pm: The space as "the real world"
So there is so much stuff here that in order to make room for anything or to explore anything or make art I have to spend an hour negotiating the shit that is in the way. In the gallery, the walls are blank stark white the floor open and the possibilities endless with in the large empty area.
In examining the space in terms of a space for exploring concepts and theories. I have come to view the space as being a much more realistic approach to how theory plays out in society and people's lives. When discussing theory and proposing approaches to the way the world works, authors often are able to start with an area similar to the gallery. Open and ready to be created or viewed through the lenses of the author.
Here at Elsewhere theories are being played out amongst the remains and rubble of life. The objects that we are surrounded by represent the all of the intersecting lives and narratives and fables that we as a society have told ourselves and live out.
In the real world in order to work with theory, one has to move all of the shit out of the way first or at least find a way to negotiate it.
While in theory it is lovely to have an endless world of possibilities, it is more likely that there is already a bunch of shit in the way.

07:21 pm: The Sexy Party
So at the moment, we are preparing for Dan's sexy party. This originated with a story that Dan read. Called of course “Sexy” in The Interpreter of Knowledge. It has since then inspired a conversation about what is sexy, in terms of the party and in terms of Freud’s theories. More on this later.
So the Space has been decorated with Christmas lights. Martini glasses and drink are available. Gin and Tonic. Mimosas. Wine, both red and white. And of course Martinis.
There is some "sexy" music on and there is some man crooning about "being so horny, the crack of dawn better watch out for me". I am not sure that is sexy, but I feel his pain.
So there will be photo shoots and debauchery.
And general sexiness.

07:32 pm: Pictures
So I had a request for pictures and I will post some but for the time being go to the web site and look under images.
here is the address
http://www.elsewhereelsewhere.org/

First Impressions

2005-06-01T13:41:00.000-04:00

I am Sarah and I started a journal before I realised that the space also had a blog so I have put my entries into this blog as well.
June 1st, 2005
01:14 pm: The Space
The space, as in the Elsewhere Artist Collaborative that I have joined, has inspired my to begin this blog. I have resisted this strange cultural phenomenon for years now. In general I find it odd to put ones personal feelings on-line for others to see. However, in this particular situation I am finding that this may be a useful tool. I am also wondering if this thing has spell check. This may be a problem.
So the space. Is in Greensboro, NC. The last place I thought I would find myself. However, here I am in lovely NC and continually impressed. The area is lovely and the people very friendly. There seems to be a lively counter culture/ culture dialogue here. And really interesting accents.
The space is a storefront and warehouse just past the train tracks on Elm Street. It is three floors and an enormous amount of space.
I am at a coffee shop and I have to move my car, I will continue at the space itself.

09:21 pm: The Space cont.
So, the park metaphor. So the space is a park and every leaf and blade of grass is a cultural visual item that carries a cultural context and a history. Either, your history or a history that you have been told that you should have or that someone at some point has had. It is filled with toys, clothes, kitchen utensils, books, furniture, and fabric odds and ends. Everywhere is a visual menagerie full of cultural implications.

Whitefish, example of a bony fish

2005-05-09T02:29:00.000-04:00

Objects arranged atop my desk (clockwise):
Declaration of Independence glass; photo cube w/ picture of girl talking on fake phone; bathtub holding Moore Nickeled Steel Thumb Tacks 7/16”; Model-T carrying sunglasses; Dutch style music box with two felt lined drawers--one of which holds: foam penguin, tool box 1”x2”x1” containing flat-head screw driver, mallet, ball peen hammer, and wrench, golf tee, magnet letter “L,” cowboy, banana, sleeper train-car, Chuck E. Cheese spy glass, sharpened X-Mas pencil, button, 6.5”x1” strip of astroturf running length of drawer; on-top of music box is 1940ish date set at WED 20 APR, horseshoe, poker chip, trophy base for St. Valentine’s Indoor Soccer Classic Champion 1988, whistle, price sticker for “Silver Photo $10,” and Shinola Shoe Polish; army soldier; two tier display tree hold two rattles (peach elephant and blue polka dotted flower w/green worm), and four Ghostbuster proton packs; box reading Brontosaurus © 1986, 1988; fountain pen ink holder holding IBM ball-point pen; Crayola Caddy w/ water color pallets holding an assortment of sharpies, electric candle, Fisher Price syringe, lowercase “f” (magnet missing), plate with face of Jimmy Carter, and army man (grenade thrower); fire engine carrying figurines (Inspector Gadget and Cobra from GI-Joe), and printing block for WWII army surplus catalog detailing jumpsuit complete w/ ankle straps, full zipper front, and parka hood; girl and flowers in bubble; “I love you” girl holding flower; tank facing off with Masha, bear from 1980 Moscow Olympics (in boxing pose); self-commissioned Office Park Desk Sculpture (Scheer, Erector Set, 2004); car; two army men (hiking, hunting); sealed baggy of zippers exceeding weight limit of Trim a Way dietetic scale; bottle of blue marking chalk; sawdust stuffed mouse missing right ear; army man (leading charge); miniature coat rack holding keys to Elsewhere and photo of self holding frame; dinosaur; single tier display tree holding glasses with firefighter on base; stuffed bison; patchwork Humpty Dumpty; teddy bear hugged by stuffed “I love you” heart (present from Steph); green wood block on blue wood block; four army men of increasing size from right to left; wooden letter blocks (J/ K); seventies stucco reading lamp wearing child’s western style shirt, wooden color blocks necklace, and peter pan figure in pocket, the lampshade holds: torah portion for cousin’s bar-mitzvah, Polaroid taken of Stephanie’s desk, clipping from Yiddish Newspaper, Forward, displaying photograph of President Roosevelt in 1940 and 1944, caption reads “PRES. ROOSEVELT During Four Periods of His Unexampled Career of Service,” mailing label to 606 1/2 S. Elm Street, Carolina Sales Co. flyer for Army Surplus reading “Give PUP TENTS For a Gift…These tents require 2 poles 43” long, 2 ropes 6’ long, 8 pegs. Weight approx. 6lbs. No Left Or Right Sides Any 2 Shelter Halves Make a Tent,” p. 78 of Ladies Home Journal promoting Peter Pan Quilt “order no. 2896, from the Reference Library, Ladies’ Home Journal, Philadelphia. Send 35c for the pattern”; Felix the Cat toy phone; Buddy L school bus ($25); Remington Noiseless typewriter; Mac PowerBook G4 upon which I type.

Cherry Tomatoes

2005-05-07T20:30:00.000-04:00

Greetings,

I'm Bridget Conn and I just arrived here on the 5th. I'll be here until mid June, such is the plan. I moved out of my house in Athens, Georgia before I left, so I guess for now I live in Greensboro, North Carolina. I'll be teaching in Ohio later in the summer, and then in south Georgia, teaching, working and living with a my little artist group (www.stillmoreroots.com), and/or in India on a residency. Either way, it's all art for me for the rest of the year, and for this I am thankful.

I'm taking a lot of photos, but I don't want to post them all here cause it's a lot. I'm posting them at Kodak Easyshare, at www.kodakgallery.com. I guess you have to be invited to view the album though. If you'd like to see, email me at bridget_conn@yahoo.com and I'll do so.

I've been doing a lot of looking, mostly. I have brought some things to my desk to contemplate for awhile. I have lists of things that caught my eye, and lists of places in the space I may want to work in. Yesterday, after having been here for 24 hours, I went to the grocery store with Steph and George. In the produce section I saw a box of cherry tomatoes on its side with the contents spilled open. I realized in that moment, because I had just snapped out of it, how much I had already become enveloped in the space, realizing that I probably shouldn't go and arrange the tomatoes methodically around the produce section. I've figured out really quickly why this place is called Elsewhere. It's not like simply having a studio, it's being completely a part of the space, your eyes are constantly working and comparing objects and making relationships. I told them my thought with the tomatoes when we were out last night, and they completely understood. Steph said something to the effect of, "We've been here two years, how do you think we see everything? We're screwed. We'll never be able to function in the world again."

I'm also interested in how Elsewhere functions as people come in, preparing for a commercial experience (even though it's posted on the door that nothing is for sale, doesn't seem like they read much). We may be having a meal and discussing politics, and people pop in expecting to buy a trinket. I wonder what it looks like for them. For me, it feels a little like I'm on a reality show or something, without the banality and emaciated women. It plays with the idea of public/private time and space. I don't usually have to worry about strangers wandering into my day at unexpected times. So far, I really like it. It makes me have to be prepared to talk to people more, and be accomodating.

I'm excited to do a window display, but I think I have a lot of work before I get to that point.

Things on my desk:
wooden frame with oval mirror
green yarn
spool of red thread
pocket watch
plastic figurine of woman's torso
plastic tag, reads: hot cider
letter from italy to george's grandfather
plastic container of dirt and dead plant
framed illustration of man and woman, text reading "the colonel gave me the medal"
mason jar with blue thread spool
holga camera, color film to be developed monday
frame containing card with pressed flowers, text reading "flowers from the holy land"
jewelry box containing buttons, pushpins, picture of jesus, needle and small spool of thread, and miniature gold watering can
weeble that used to remind me of my mom as a kid
A&P ad from newspaper dated 1960
small topped jar of clear liquid, no label

--

Nick @ Elsewhere

2005-05-03T15:32:00.000-04:00

Hey Y'all,
Starting a blog for now so I can show you some pics without overrunning your inbox with spam. Check it out once in a while to see what I'm up to.
There's some info on me here...
http://nickstedman.banff.org
I'm starting this while at a residency in North Carolina at this crazy place called elsewhere...
http://www.elsewhereelsewhere.org
not sure if I'll continue after.

Elsewhere was a kind of thrift store that sold old toys, clothing and nicknacks between the 40's and 90's. (George, correct me on the details if I'm off). It was boarded up for a while after the owner passed away, but then the Grandson reopened the doors as an arts space that operates around the theme of the crazy collection found within.

They invite artists from all over to come down for a few weeks to create projects with the items found in the store. It seemed up my ally. I've always had a thing for thrift, and some of the objects I make are basically big toys, so it's a good match.

I'm very slowly getting my feet wet. I've had a bunch of ideas so far, but need to follow through on one. Thinking about making a monster/golum for one of the upstairs chambers.

Elsewhere...

Me at Elsewhere...

The stairwell of death...

A potential site for a project...

My humble abode...

Greensboro, NC...

Some starting materials...

Desktop ready to get to work...just need some inspiration.

A prelude

2005-05-03T14:50:00.000-04:00

You are about to receive a slew of e-mails from Elsewhere's newest artist in residence and blog team member, NICK STEDMAN, related through half-step sister's brother's aunt to Ralph Stedman, the illustrator behind Dr. Gonzo. Day two of moving mountains is now complete and we have made a dent of small proportions, freeing from underneath the rubble a few books, records, and magazine (notably a collection of 1992 Ebony's). John Henry knew what this was like, but he was a steel driving man and I and the others helping with the load are only boys in comparison. Then again, we aren't working against a machine for the machine has already won. In these days children are all that are needed to keep the fires hot, the anvils of human perspiration.
I met a machine recently, a fine commercial vacuum with a red bag and silver handle. A beauty of a beast whose front headlight no longer shined. A solid contraption like a type writer or the engine of a refrigerator. Any of these machines could carry a few fabrics upstairs, but as yet haven't volunteered. Teetered teetered...3:00 AM grocery shops, a cigarette and a Snapple on the bench. Say hi to Ivan Canada as he picks up a bottle of milk...Cheese, cheddar, tether, teeter.

So prepare yourselves because high gear has been clutched, the avalanche of people is about to begin, the lull and explosion, production production production.
Time to turn on the Sally Jesse Raphael and tune out to the sound of machinery lugging up each and every stair to the third floor where the bundle is deposited in haphazard colorization.

Today is the day that Jeff foresaw.

2005-04-22T10:03:00.000-04:00

We are about to begin the most massive movement of object that has ever taken place at elsewhere. This is no sorting, shifting, dragging. This is a move greater than the earliest box shifting upstairs. An estimated 1500 bolts of fabric will be carried upstairs and documented. There is more to say about this at a later time, and after the job is done, but if all is well we shall find out how old the fabric is relation to its movement along the alphabet...is the fabric the alpha and omega, or just the alpha and upsilon?
More upon conclusion.

Grant wants to know

2005-02-28T18:07:00.000-05:00

Here is a question asked on a grant:

"Approximate Total Number of Hours contributed by volunteers in 2004"

I mean, first, what is With the capital letters and second...ummm

Vintage Vandals - Elsewhere Also?

2005-02-02T22:48:00.000-05:00

The Wurst Gallery (an online art project run out of Oregon) had a bunch of artists take bad art from their local thrift stores and transform it. A lot of its really good, and it's very similar in theory to what we're doing at Elsewhere. Check out our ideological cousins here.

The Groundhog Has Spoken

2005-02-02T13:24:00.000-05:00

Punxsutawney, PA - At 8:45 this morning, the prognosticator from Punxsutawney, Phillip Albert Groundhog, emerged from his hole, saw what bystanders are claiming was his shadow, and then crept back into his hole, leaving the two-legs to sort out what it all means.

Spring just around the corner? Six more weeks of winter? Peace in Iraq? It's tough to say. Does his shadow mean spring or winter? Well, if he saw his shadow that means the sun was out, which means it was warm today, so - -

That paragraph was brought to you by grammar school memories of trying to figure out exactly what the deal with the Groundhog was. To skip a little, brother, by seeing its shadow the Groundhog has actually predicted SIX MORE WEEKS OF WINTER.

That's right. SIX MORE WEEKS OF WINTER.
Bundle up, guys.

Confirmation confirmed

2005-01-31T17:17:00.000-05:00

Upon conferring with the confirmation committee, who conformed to a decision that confirmed the concern of the Sad Traveler, we wish to communicate their lack of condemnation. Yes, August 23, occurred, according to those who conferred, by a 3-2 vote. Whether August 23 occurred at the time of concern, offered (not conveyed) by the Sad Traveler is unconfirmed by a vote of 2-3 during the conference of the committee that was to confirm, but instead remained unconcerned and therefore unconfirmed. Disturbed by the discord, the 2 who could not be procured, by which we mean they would not conform, claimed to be undeterred by what the rest conferred but could not confirm.
Thank you for CONCENTRATION

Braintree

2005-01-31T01:41:00.000-05:00

In exile from Elsewhere, reading a new edition of an old American history textbook, I came upon this fascinating fact that has special meaning for the 2004 Summer Season of Elsewhere Elsewhere Journeygoers: Braintree, Mass., object of the Sad Traveler's quest on evening in August, and point of departure to destinations north, is the sight/site of the murder that was blamed on famed anarchist scapegoats Sacco and Vanzetti.

When we were there, we could tell there was something special about Braintree, but staying in a Motel 6 right off the Interstate we were at a loss to find out what it is. There are no signs for Sacco and Vanzetti in Braintree. Funny (?) to think that a contingent of anarchist (not really, Elsewhere suffers actually from the political malady of hyperarchism, not anarchism) bohemians staying at the site/sight of our nation's first great wrong against the philosophically different. (Bold-faced lie/exaggeration: c.in.point: alien and sedition acts). Katherine Ann Porter, writer, described the case as the "Never-Ending Wrong." S & V were executed on August 23, 1927 (an eerie date as well, my droogs, for wasn't our repose sometime around August 23? Was it August 23 exactly? Let's pretend that it was) still proclaiming their innocence.

"They went searching for the American Dream, and couldn't find it anywhere."

Where are you Nickie

2005-01-27T23:36:00.000-05:00

We need some fresh air, so I opened the window and fell into a pond. There upon falling into a pond I found a rabbit with two feet on his key chain. I asked the squirrel where he got the liver and he offered a pate shop on 34th and Spring Street, which I knew that he knew that I should have known was a highway ramp exiting I-70. Rival codes were lost in the monumental lotions of locomotion. Baloney! Again, Where are you Pegs?

Dialectic Paradigm of Consensus!

2005-01-27T17:59:00.000-05:00

Make your head explode forever! Enjoy free essays for college or hobby via the Postmodern Generator! Reload over and over for real fun. Note: this link is in no way affiliated with Elsewhere we know... the Elsewhere Art Collaborative in Greensboro, NC. This is rather an impostor Elsewhere, or, more correctly, an extra Elsewhere... but equally confusing to the layman.

Photo Album

2005-01-27T17:52:00.000-05:00

Or, a photo tribute album. Or, a new way to interact with your environment.

Moving into the Upper Transcend

2005-01-27T03:24:00.000-05:00

Well, I said I would do it and now I'm doing it.
While Elsewhere, Once and Future Art Community languished through the winter, Josh Boyette, Sad Traveler, came, saw, and left without conquering, except for one brief experience that may or may not be consider conquering depending on definition, personal reference point, and absolute velocity of an African swallow.

I did the make the g*dd!#m website, which after taking a great fall this morning, was put back together by a crack team of equines and hominids answering to a hereditary autocrat by the name of G Squiggly. You can see it now at elsewhereelsewhere.org, unless you came here by way of it, in which case, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

So in the immortal words of Neil Young, "he may be gone but he's not forgotten," or Neil Diamond, "we're coming to America," or Neil Armstrong "what the fuck is that thing over there?" this is Jumping Jehosaphat, Sad Traveler, Reader-In-Residence, Director of Communications, Josh Boyette, Once-Again, transcending out of the space and into the etherworld (opp. of netherworld) of Silicon and Philadelphia.

I bid you goodnight, as I go to join, my friends, the ghosts of elsewhere.

Deconstructing with Ed Cone

2005-01-27T01:22:00.000-05:00

what ever happened
bulid?collected?
broadcasting...to the league in over 285 school districts "demonstrating...visit and support,"
including creationist
for the administration's marriage.
Hog[gard] says With photos
newspapers should understand themselves.
calculus really rates financial hurdles.
some fresh relevance
or a fresh take recap..familiar news.
Who wants to come home a prison on the inside?
More awards: Broken Gates:
wildfire bout
good neighbors
invisible line between his domain and ours
careful debunking disruptive agent
Tie Social Security

Things are getting complicated
not just because of the growing providing political strategies, ideas and tactic:
comforting and chilling
because the crimes committed strike so deeply.

Death Couch.

2005-01-26T21:11:00.000-05:00

A woman at work remarked that this weekend is when she'll be getting new furniture. Time for an upgrade, I guess. She is an older woman, not really old, but just old enough to remind me of a thought from a long time ago: Death items. The final items you will ever own, the ones that will survive you. I almost asked her. "Will this be your death couch?" I didn't though. It seemed perfectly reasonable, but, at the time, and with a new employee nearby, not the right moment. And she -even though she's not- thinks she is very old, it might have given her a complex... "In a long line of couches, this really could be my last..." Think of it though. Toasters, microwaves, pots, pans, anything you replace. Even toothbrushes. One day, at the drug store, you'll pick up your new death toothbrush. Relax now, on your fine leather death couch. The better quality you get, the higher the chances of getting it. How about this: List some funny death items. What else are blogs for? What are some really good death items? Think of things you already have. I already have my death hammer. My death Phillips head screwdriver. My death CD player for all I know. I still have the first CD player I ever got, in 1990. It still works. Hopefully I will replace it before death, but at this pace, the next one will surely be it. You might even buy a pack of death gum and you'll croak before you get to chew piece five. Let's hope not.

animal shakes running for Iraqi Interim Government

2005-01-26T12:34:00.000-05:00

animals changed
Originally uploaded by fiermanboy.

Rational aptitude tests for grades 4-5

2005-01-26T11:45:00.000-05:00

Munching on a Clausens I wondered if there is anything that is as cold, crisp, and pop-able when you open the fridge. So many days I just pear, or rather peer in there, looking around as if a fast-food drive through window is hiding in the butter compartment. My other criteria to snap me out of early morning sleepage is compatibility with orange juice, whether or not there is any oj available. Again, crispity cold, Clausens pickles hit the spot.

So tomorrow the Guilford college writing class is coming. We shall tour them around with an ear to questions like, "how is this table covered in puzzle pieces of textual relevance." To which I would reply, then Steph would cut me off, then I would finish her sentence, and josh would sum it all up.
Ex:
G: Well, you see its part of what we call the war room, which initiated out of an interest to have meetings, and a representation of power circumstances based in chair seating arrangements, like that of Vietnam when there were the 1968 peace talks and....
S: Symbolic referent. Really, Matt put together all these puzzles and left them sitting in the middle of...
G: The floor, so we...
J: Try to clean up. Glued them to the table so they wouldn't go anywhere.

The tricky question is how to start and where to go with it. For example, we could begin with an explanation of schematics and how all the objects are arranged by themes placed on installations. On the other hand we could ask them to imagine toys from their past and remember the narratives that accompanied their playing. Then we might ask them to imagine larger children’s games, for example, war in the front yard, lily-pad leap over alligator ponds in the carpeted living room, or setting sail on a boat made of couches. That's when we can show them our offices, press office, and travel station.

Well, this pickle is done, and my coffee is almost finished.

And I pass this secret on to you

2005-01-25T23:36:00.000-05:00

Pickles

www.bubbies.com

Bubbies dill pickles. I have enjoyed these pickles for many weeks now. I offer them to you as if they were a great beer. Holy crap these are the best dill pickles ever. That's what you do when you turn down the chance for some laser tag. You go home, and you tell people about pickles. I do not work for the pickle company, I merely like them. Think of it in a Green Eggs and Ham kind of way. Free of materialism and "cool factor". I offer them because they are good and because of my sheer humanity. I was wondering, are there any pickles at Elsewhere? In with the toys and fabric and books? Well, none you could eat. Any sign of pickles at Elsewhere is probably in the form of a stain. There might be a toy pickle though. There are probably all kinds of toy foods. You remember. The kind that came with toy cooking sets. Fake eggs. Fake buns and plastic hotdogs with a seam down the middle from the mold. We should have a kind of tea party/meal at Elsewhere. All of the fake food could be found, sorted and distributed and we could pretend to eat. We could act like kids acting out adult roles like passing the potatoes. Does that make any sense? This is all going nowhere. What are blogs for anyway? Day to day drivel? My opinions? I canceled a haircut today. For in the morning actually. It was early. Too early and I can't make it, I'll be up blogging tonight. Sorry. "What about?" Pickles. I'm blogging about blogging and about pickles. And laser tag. Or rather, the sad feeling of turning down laser tag. That's it. Sorry, I'll have to reschedule... --Well, that's about it for the first entry. Now I know someone is foaming at the mouth mad waiting to post their comment. "Bubbies suck! Mt. Olive rules!" Well, go for it. I am tired and I am going to go to sleep. Tomorrow I have to rent out eight to ten more hours of my life to a soulless institution.

Just a log maam, just a log

2005-01-25T22:33:00.000-05:00

What is the lack of adventure inherent in this city that collapses the world like a clam stuck under sea sediment? If someone walked up to you and said: Hi, I run a space that was once a thrift store, and its filled with tons of rediculous objects, and inside we play laser tag. Want to play? Wouldn't you say. Yes, sounds like a fun idea. I would like to be part of an idea like that!

Combo's have choices at no extra costs, shouldn't you? A and B walked together from City 1 to City 2. At C2 A said, "bye B." At C1 B had already departed from A and headed to C2, and waiting at the finish line on the boarder of C2 B said to A, "hello."

Intentional Accidents

2005-01-25T19:28:00.000-05:00

Dear reader,

I'm so sorry that it has come to this, but alas, here it is, the one, the unique, the brand new elsewhere blog, full of blogging blogs and bloggery and groggy bloggy foggy bloggedy scroggedy...

blog isnt a word in the dictionary, but as remarked by peter, so onomatopeotic (and im careless with quoting) that its enough to make you sick. BLAM! POW! BLAST! PUKE! BLOG!

its a bit murky at the bottom of this smoggy prologue. (its near rhyme, but rhyme is stowing that silent h, so close must be not-too-far)

For example: backlog, befog, bird-dog, bog, bulldog, bullfrog, clog, cog, defog, dog, eggnog, firedog, flog, fog, frog, grog, groundhog, hangdog, hedgehog, hog, jog, lapdog, leapfrog, log, nog, sandhog, sheepdog, slog, smog, tog, unclog, watchdog

Josh here is working diligently in his last few days at Elsewhere. Since he's hiding behind the computer over there, he could be creating a huge quagmire of the website, splicing links, turning pages upside down. From the look in his eye, he might have internalized the glare. His hair has taken a fluffy, menacing turn since this morning's frizz freedom.

George thinks the guys got it because of the weird chattiness. Was it the hand movements, the averted eyes, the general yeah sure yeah sounds good? Was it that they both knew that only the night before, they had danced in the lead dust, swapping horror stories and sharing the sweet sentiments of historical vestiges? George states, "It was like a day after great sex with fellow office employees." All the best for this budding romance that we hope comes to fruition by the coffee/tea station.

George is waiting for "the call." The call will say that his sister is about to pop one out. We're all very nervous about George's relationship to the intricacies of this process. The biggest trouble with the "call" is remembering to carry his phone. If he doesn't, he might get the dreaded 1 Missed Call: a message laden with screaming contractional breaths and sirens. We're encouraging him to keep that little "leash" (or as Josh's mom would say, leech) pocketed. So far, two days past due. No contact.

And now for Elsewhere notes, the true hot-dog of this whole operation. John Foy, south elm antique piano restorer, finally also got his share of elsewhere attic life. He and his piano counterparts had structural inquiries...are these steel girders? does the roof slant (why yes, backwards)? whats with the door to an open stairway? He wants to start a music conservatory on the third floor, and we salute him for his aural tendencies. We recommend the pully system for those baby grands. He remarked among a pile of sweaters and chair molds, "It's nothing like I imagined it, but somehow like I imagined it." Ahh, similarity on the brink of uncanny. If we could pinpoint just what is so frightfully familiar about Elsewhere's unintentional arrangements, we would quit this project and head for a reality tv show in weather that does not require space heaters. Because believe you me, with this much space, we might need as many heaters as we have paperbacks.

Watch out for broken hangers when galloping among unhung hoseiry,

the mathematician