The completion of the installation hit me when I saw two young ladies with smart phones taking pictures of two of my old surfboards, one band-sawed in half, the other table-sawed into cross-sections in boxes in the gallery. The goal of the pieces and the collaboration with Peter L'abbe was to make an experience. The editor from * posted something along that lines of how art should be something visceral and I went the "fanciful" route in my head with this project the same way I thought I could relate "The Large Glass", by Marcel Duchamp, to "Truth and Lies" by Nietzsche, in a term paper. I got an A, but she said it was fanciful.
For instance: telegraph is a form of communication; or rather, telegraph is a vehicle for communication. Classic Cars West, where "O' he e Nalu, Objects of Inquiry" is displayed, is on 27th Ave. between Broadway and Telegraph Blvd. Telegraph goes six miles north into Berkeley where I work. My coworker, who lives off Telegraph walked five miles north to his house after losing his girlfriend in the crowd.
The significance of having a street party, whether it's called First Fridays or Art Murmur, on Telegraph once a month isn't lost in my associative disorder. The stirrings and hopes of something revolutionary are not lost in this. Is it possible to communicate hope through a street name through a street party through the Telegraph?
Well, I ask because I can, I imagine because I hope, and I accept this fanciful outlook because I believe. Not in a word or an abstraction, but in what's in front of me. From electronic bits to blood, sweat and tears, you are reality. saludos at salamat
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