I’ve been reminded, in a bout of sudden and unexpected attention (thanks, y’all!), that I’ve had a few projects on the back burner for so long that they’ve fallen behind the stove altogether, and are now adrift in the dark realm of crumb-covered kitchen dust bunnies, lost bottle caps, and the nylon chew bone my previous dog lost under there a decade ago.
There’s the mosaic project at AVAM, for one thing. It’s odd how quickly you can forget a giant art project you worked on for a solid year, on a diesel high lift in the Baltimore skyline in blazing summer heat and the wicked, biting winter wind that blows in from the bay without a pause.
I was just interviewing this dog for the 4th of July, and the very, very nice guy who does panoramablog took some neat pictures with this cool camera that’s like a little whirling ball on a stick. If you pan around (ignore the dork in overalls), you can get a nice view of the north face of the mosaic wall. Each of those panels is 32 x 50 inches, weighs about 90 pounds, and rode around the city strapped onto the roof of my Metro before coming back to be bolted in place from the wiggly platform of a lift. I think it’s pretty neat, but I’m hardly an impartial observer.
Working at AVAM, particularly on the Mosaic Project Phase II, a huge community art project designed by the artist/educator Mari Gardner, built by kids in drug treatment, homeless shelters, and juvenile justice programs, and engineered by yours truly, was just hard to describe—emotional, frustrating, complicated, joyous…just lots of things at once. It’s always great to go back and see my work there (in the last crunch to get stuff built, I got to do some design elements, too, and the inclusion of the constellation Ursa Major was my own little intrusion) when I do my street theater gigs there.
Had another great gig as part of the Baltimore Electronic Music Summerfest 2010, an annual 13 hour festival of electronic, DIY, and unclassifiable music at the Hexagon. Great company, great music, and lots of fun. Yes, I am dressed as a nun. When your particular musical style involves long stretches of near-motionless attention to a small black box full of gear, you need a hook, don’t you think? To hear the set, click the arrow on the player above.