I'll keep this brief and to the point. No, seriously, in the modern day ADD spirit of brevity and 142-character attention spans, I'm only here to present (proudly!) a Midwestern metropolitan mix, featuring Timothy Johnson and Max Murphy, with a special thanks going out to Uprise Skateshop and filmer/editor Blake Matthews. Enjoy!
Father, forgive me, for I have fucked up.Not only that, I'm feeling a little... I don't know... I guess "unhinged" is the popular buzzword du jour, so what better state of 50-scattered mind to bare my selfish soul and talk about something that's been weighing on my mind of late (and apparently my partner Nick's, too, as he's quick to remind me about this one particular product call I made whenever I suggest making a "Heart Skull" trucker hat). To do so, however, we must first take one of my prerequisite trips into the past to better explain the situation of the present, because just like Morrissey I too tend to go about things the wrong way.
I’ve been friends with Aaron Rose a long time—circa 1990? I’ve shown my art in his former Alleged Gallery in NYC, he included my work in his seminal book, Dysfunctional, I’ve buttfucked him right in the mouth, and I’m honored to say that he invited me to hang a piece in that first skate art show he curated in Hollywood at Gallery X . So I’ve always known Aaron as a CURATOR. I know he is creative and makes art—I love his art—but who doesn’t make art? I think of the art curator as sort of like a football fan—even though he doesn’t actually play the game himself, he’s very passionate about it and sometimes he likes to toss the ole pigskin around with his bros at the beach. I’m guilty of thinking of Aaron as a curator first and forget that he does actually play football—artball, whatever.
Hello and welcome to yet another episode of Herman's Head, where the four quadrants of Herman's brain go lobe-to-lobe in full battle royale over a wholly inconsequential matter. That said, today's debate: logo boards—to do or not to do, but we obviously did, so what's done is done, the point is moot, and fuck me.
The Great Pacific Garbage Patch (GPGP) is one of five offshore plastic accumulation zones (known as The FOPAZ) in the world’s oceans. The GPGP is located halfway between Hawaii and California. Despite the common public perception that the patch is an archipelago of massive garbage islands, its low density (4 particles per cubic meter) prevents detection by satellite imagery, or even by casual boaters or divers in the area. The patch consists primarily of fingernail-sized or smaller—often microscopic (microplastics)—particles that are suspended, but widely dispersed, in the upper water column. Researchers from The Ocean Cleanup project claim that the patch covers 620,000 square miles, making the GPGP the largest member of The FOPAZ and thus the reigning International World Champion of Garbage Patches. Wooo! Go GPGP! The Spaz of The FOPAZ!