Los Angeles : Dissociation Superhighway

Aug 8, 2013

LOS ANGELES DISSOCIATION SUPERHIGHWAY

Los Angeles exudes a definite psychic difference from other large cities. People don’t associate.  To associate is to connect someone or something with something else in one’s mind.  To group.  To collaborate.  We don’t do that in LA.  Communities are hard to come by.  More often than not, we dissociate:

“That is an asshole in a Toyota Tundra blocking my lane, not a man driving carefully because he’s driving his elderly grandmother home from the hospital.  That’s not a breathing, fragile human being balancing a two-wheeled machine.  It’s a goddamn biker in my lane.  That’s not another person in my line of work who might be an interesting partner. It’s my competition.”

SUNSET STRIP 101 LOS ANGELES TRAFFIC

Identified here are four similarities between the autopolis of Los Angeles and the information superhighway (what a throwback phrase!).  The same way Angelenos fail to see each other as humans is similar to the way we interact and dissociate online.  You don’t believe me?  Start your soundtrack.  Here we go…

LOS ANGELES THEATER DOWNTOWN

Competitive psychic isolation // Competing intent for attention

Los Angeles is an autopolis, a postmodern mess of Carmageddons and A Clogwork Orange.  Yes, really, A Clogwork Orange.  The shoulder-rubbing interaction of public transportation, plus opportunities to actually walk through a neighborhood that New York City and Chicago provide are absent from most urban areas of LA. Lack of community is pervasive. Los Angeles residents drive from the garage to the freeway to the parking lot. There’s no forced diversity, and casual interaction is strained—you’re always in someone else’s way.  Such is the Internet, where we position ourselves as the individual, the master, completely in control of how we present ourselves, constantly demanding someone, anyone, look at us!  Retweet us!  Like us!  Psychic isolation and demand for attention drive dissociation.

LOS ANGELES POOL AT NIGHT

Supremacy of the beautiful // Idealized personal presentation

The rating system for human hotness is strictly enforced in Los Angeles.  The ultimate is a ten.  Everyone wants to be a ten.  Very few people are tens, but there are more here than anywhere else, and lots of nines and eights, and this is the cause of much frustration. People rating themselves on an unrealistic cultural ideal is just what we do.  The vanity that Los Angeles has long been mocked for is rampant on the web.  Don’t argue.  You’re all doing it on Facebook and Instagram, shaving off the sweetest, juiciest bits of that lifestyle you lead for everyone else to observe and enjoy.  We recoil from reality, dissociating from real connections.

SCIENTOLOGY ART MUSEUM GARBAGE HUBBARD

Ideological separation // Physical separation

Online, we delve into the same type of separatist experiences Los Angeles citizens must endure to stay sane.  After a few years traveling cross-town in brain-numbing traffic for parties, waxings, weddings, and work, many an Angeleno has vowed to never leave their neighborhood, excepting yearly vacations.  Compare that to traversing the web, where you choose exactly what to accept and what to ignore, like Eastsiders and Westsiders on our respective sides of the 405. We don’t have to argue.  We don’t have to go anywhere uncomfortable.  Each website click and food delivery funnels us deeper down an ideological pathway. We selectively narrow our online and physical explorations, dissociating from opportunities for growth.

LIQUOR MART LOS ANGELES PUSSY WAGON

Constant distraction // Ad bombardment

Any visitor to LA is immediately struck by the heavy population of billboards, murals, brightly painted storefronts, moving ads, publicity stunts, galas and openings and skywriting and neon.  The giant buildings and car-ensconced status of each potential consumer means advertisers must work that much harder to reach us, cluttering the landscape with sexy giants.  It’s the banner ad of life.  The pop-under of the soul.  Online advertisements are becoming
increasingly stubborn
, limiting your “Skip Ad” options and counting down those interminable seconds until we reach that content or destination we so earnestly desire.  It’s difficult to drive without ad distraction in LA, and just as difficult to navigate the web without an ad up in your face.  Constant distraction dissociates us from the task at hand, whether it’s making a left turn or researching a paper.

PARAMOUNT LOT LOS ANGELES

I do love Los Angeles. And while I believe both the Internet and Los Angeles are cliquey, competitive, and isolative, they’re also wonderlands of opportunity and small pockets of community.

What’s your take?

xo,

suzymae

Travel Local: Chinatown, NYC

Aug 8, 2013

Travel Local
Living out of a backpack, aka Full Backpack style, is meant to reduce complications and open up more possibilities.  Travel Local guidelines release tourists from the wheelied, neck-pillowed, map-fumbling stereotypes they may be, and allows for city exploration as a visiting neighbor.  This means sticking to one neighborhood for the majority of your stay.  Borrowing a bike and exploring on foot.  Visiting the same juice bar each morning.  Learning which way’s north.

Secure Homebase

Secure homebase

I’m a big fan of Hotel Tonight, the app that allows you to make reduced-cost purchases after noon from underbooked hotels, but leading up to my trip, a few test-runs showed that apparently more and more people are becoming fans, too, and reducing availability.  Selections had decreased and prices were higher. My “Travel Local” idea needed a home base, so I did some Yelping and found a Lower East Side HoJo in Chinatown. I picked Chinatown for its proximity to the Williamsburg bridge, and the “stay downtown, darling” advice of Gala Darling in her Love and Sequins chapter #11,
“It’s up to you, New York, New York.” Luckily, too.  The night I arrived in NYC, I checked Hotel Tonight in my taxi to Chinatown, and found that a sports game had reduced availability and upped prices.  Homebase secured!  I win this round.

Daily Deli

Daily deli

So Chinatown was my new home, a place where unloading of edibles seems to happen each morning, and the summer trash is particularly offensive, reeking of chicken asshole and putrid fish guts. My first night, I discovered a 24 hour deli right on my block that made juices and smoothies.  24 hours a day.  For five dollars.  This type of thing does not exist in the twelve-dollar smoothieland that is Los Angeles.  The Highline Deli became my daily stop, where the counter guys and I made friends:  they made custom smoothies, pointed me to subway stops, and one night, as I experienced 3am drunk starvation shame, whipped up the most epic veggie and chicken wrap I’ve ever eaten.  Imagine a drunk food better than tacos.  This was it.  (Tacos are my heart, so that’s saying something.)

Friendly Favors

Request friendly favors

Asking for something is the only way to receive it.  I’m independent to a fault.  But a quote from Neal Donald Walsch inspired me on this trip:  “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”  I asked friends for help, and I got it:  a borrowed bike, helmet, introductions to new friends,  IRL meetups with Internet friends, recommendations and invitations.  I even got touristy with the HoJo staff, who were massively helpful in spreading out a giant subway map and giving me tips to navigate the city.  A spread-out map is my biggest fear—I’m a shitty navigator and I HATE getting lost/ asking for directions—so this was pushing my comfort zone to the hilt.

Bike Bike Bike

Bike, bike, bike

I love biking. Especially on vacation. Cycling through the city is the perfect pace.  You acknowledge your surroundings with every layer of attention:  acutely aware (what are the drivers like out here?), contemplative (the light off that building is beautiful), logistical (OK, right in two blocks, then a left at the fork).  Interaction is easier on a bike than on the street, and you can jump off to redirect your trajectory at any moment, if a sexy person, awesome shop, or enticing bar crosses your path.  One thing I wouldn’t recommend:  Citibikes.   They’re unwieldy, top-heavy, confusing, and you have to check them in every hour. Not worth it.  Borrow a freaking bike from a local, or rent a real city road bike.

Go Public

Go public

I am terrible with directions.  And I’ve tried every psychological/ brain-training trick possible to change this, but invariably, I blank out when hearing directions, forget them immediately, and have no sense of north.  This is my tragedy, and it makes public transportation most epic—the wrong bus, once entered, can send me down a rabbit hole of confusion and frustration.  Pushing past my comfort zone, I MAKE MYSELF TAKE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION.  Even in Japan, where my grasp on the language was basic at best, my taxi-loving friend was forced to battle the complex subway fare system, tunnels, and connections with me. Conquering public
transportation in JAPAN (drunk, at that) is like winning American Ninja
Warrior
.  So in NYC, I took subways and buses when off-bike.  Sure, most people there do, but that’s the Travel Local experience.

Neighborhood Watch

Neighborhood watch

Another reason biking is the best—I covered more ground than simply walking, and if (when) I got confused, circling a block on wheels makes you look like someone who’s into exercising, as opposed to someone who’s hopelessly lost and looking to be mugged.  At night, I’d cruise around the Lower East Side, making notes on cool restaurants to visit next day, stopping into bars, striking up conversations, and then riding home to HoJo.  You see the same people nightly, they open up.  Familiarity drives affinity.  It’s why we see the same commercial for yogurt 20 times during Passions, and why your favorite bar is the one where you get free drinks.  By my last NYC night, I was getting free drinks.

Drop In FTW

Drop-in FTW

Being in Chinatown, I knew there would be some killer cheap massage action.  Right on my block was Rich Feet… Rich Feet, where for $30 and an hour, you get a foot and leg massage that rubs the New York pavement’s abuse into submission.  Down Allen Street was Marie Nails, where I practiced Japanese with a sweet manicurist who turned my nails into bejeweled works of art.  Every lunch, I found a new place, dropped in, headed for the bar, and talked shit to the bartender, bar neighbor, or both.  Bartender Andrew, above, and his superfab servers were my favorites, getting me drunk and giving me info on their Uptown neighborhood, post Museum of Sex visit.

Be A Neighbor

Be a neighbor

Part of traveling local is meeting the locals. My favorite conversations happened with people I ran into purely by coincidence.  One person I met randomly knew a person I met the next week in Chicago.  One teenager I struck up a conversation with at Pitchfork Chicago was the cousin of an ad-world friend I’ve hung with in Los Angeles.  Randomly.  How amazing is that?  It’s a habit I plan to continue in my real Los Angeles life. Just this week, at a comedy show, solo, I struck up a conversation with the man next to me, who happened to work in my industry, and big shocker:  we have multiple friends in common.  Break your monotony.  Open your eyes.  Look at the person next to you.  Say hello. The two of you have more in common than any other people on earth at this moment. Traveling local makes the world a smaller community, and a better place.

Live, learn, and say hello,

suzymae

Frank Pollard, future art legend

Aug 8, 2013

Frank Pollard, the artist

Frank Pollard’s art occupies a world of unreality with uncanny similarities to our own.  Creatures and ideas freely traverse from one universe to the other, using Frank and his dreams as a conduit.

Frank Pollard studio visit

Frank Pollard studio visit.

The images created by Frank, messenger, agent, documenter and victim, are variously tools, creatures, locations, and weapons.  His methods of construction range from paint to installation to miniatures to video.  All are blended aesthetically, but even deeper lie themes of aggression, possession, and mystery.

texts with Frank Pollard

None of this work goes over-the-top Frazetta fantasy.  A sense of humor and serendipity pervades Frank’s creations.  The same applies to Frank Pollard the person, a guy who showed up to a Chicago bar recently with a newly purchased Jurassic Park VHS, excited to watch during his most excellent Safari punk fashion phase.  When I pointed out the tape was in Spanish, this delighted Frank even more.

Frank Pollard in the studio

Frank Pollard, left; Andy Slater, right

A few friends and I at a Chicago brunch (including Velcro Lewis/ Andy Slater, above) recently lamented: “Why isn’t Frank famous?”  despite the prolific series of shows spanning fifteen years (and Lamb of God tribute song).   In a twisted art-world reality, artists who spend more time creating work as opposed to promoting themselves have less opportunity to succeed.

Frank Pollard, safari punk
safari punk

This kills me about the gallery scene and the art world in general.  Artists play an unfair game. Not only must they operate in an outdated business model completely in favor of gallery owners.  Popularity, trendiness, and favoritism drive success more often than not.  I love that Frank’s technically trained, yet most academics, after a glance, would call his work “outsider.”  I like the idea of working outside anything you’re supposed to do, especially in the realms of creativity.

Frank Pollard glorious mess

I asked Frank a few questions on his latest projects:

We watched “Other People’s Cats” together recently.  You pointed out the moment where the girl holding her cat Lucky “turns into her cat.”  I saw it too!  Did you start that series with that intent, or did it become apparent after filming?

That whole project started as a weird knee jerk reaction I had to the boom of cats on the Internet. All the love and affection was stripped from these cat strangers making it as valueless as pornography. Taking video of the cats interacting with their owners in a private way was what I was after…whatever the outcome.


Frank Pollard2_5

When I, as a viewer in general, walk out of a Frank Pollard show, do you want me to be experiencing an explicit emotion or feeling or thought?  

I really just want get across how large this world like ours is massive. And just as complicated, if not more dangerous to navigate. It could be overwhelming. I know it is for me. Most of the work comes from me being lucid when I dream, and forced to exist in this art source dream world without rules.

The work has been called bleak. But I always thought it was the opposite. It’s hopeful and proactive and the tools can be built to survive and exist in this dream state, awake. If these tools or concepts help people, that would be great. I have been treating myself like I’m an explorer.  And the works are the notes from an unknown world. The videos exist in this same world but because of the nature of video and the act of watching they are presented in the way of private acts under surveillance, or documentation of these strange events.

Frank Pollard2_2

I think your work does function as a tool.  When I bought those four paintings from you, I picked the tools and not the monsters.  I knew I needed them in my house, because after years of dreamless sleep, my dreams are actually starting to come back and speak to me.  This is huge.  I put great priority on translating my dreams as a teenager, and at some point in my 20’s I lost that ability.  Other people have had dreams about me lately, and being in Chicago recently, where I ran away to from Las Vegas as a teen, I feel has brought me nearer to this psychic space I discovered years ago.

I’m under the impression I’m documenting these events and thoughts for anyone willing to travel this road. I actually feel as though I’m exploring a strange new world, and enjoy sharing my discoveries.

Frank Pollard2_3

Your work is often set in highly inaccessible places:  movie spoilers that don’t spoil anything, distant bedrooms, dream realms.  Are you conscious of this theme?

It’s defiantly about finding a brave new frontier where nothing is new. I’m definitely conscious of this. It’s what attracts me to it. Some people climb mountains.  The world used to be so big and unknown, and that was good thing. It’s still big and unknown. To me at least.

Frank Pollard2_

Of your diverse mediums, is there a favorite, or one you’d like to explore in the future?

Not sure. They are all so intertwined at this point, I’m not even sure I can say. After dreaming of a strange object its only natural for me to do some drawing for the painting, then build it on a miniature scale, then shoot it on video. I would like to do more live action reenactments of dream events. That seems to be where all this is heading.

Frank Pollard2_4

What are you looking to explore in the future?  What’s next and exciting?

Right now the unconscious dream narrative has been taking me to some strange territories. In the dream I have been looking for a place called the “Great Wilderness.” I’m not entirely sure why I’m being drawn there, but I’m under the impression that I will find the answer to “why”  when I get there. It’s possible I’m not to supposed to find out why, and this has caused a great hesitance for the first time.

Frank is one of my favorite artists ever.  He works because he must.  He’s not a product of a “scene” or “movement.”  His work evolves from piece to piece, but stays true to his dreams.  Literally.

Find and follow more of Frank Pollard’s work here:

Tumblr:  Agency Observation

Tumblr:  Empty Chatrooms

Vimeo:  Frank Pollard

Artslant:  Frank Pollard