art, politics, religion: discuss
Over the weekend, we were with my dad’s family at a birthday party for his youngest sister.
At one point, one of my aunts made a reference to a post I only put here.
I got the feeling I’m getting more hits from family than I ever thought.
Which is fine.
You’re all welcome. (Hey, guys!).
You’re a bunch of sneaky mother fuckers. But you’re surely welcome.
I mean, Le Café Witteveen isn’t my dirty little secret. The damn thing pops up pretty quickly with a simple google search.
It’s evident that it’s everyone else’s dirty little secret.
The evil grin has become a bit of a permanent fixture on my face.
I’m not anti religion. I’m anti sexism. Anti Racism. Anti gay hate. Anti abuse of any kind, especially women and children. Anti war.
Religion is anti me.
I like that.
Graphic reads, “When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.”
~ Dom Hélder Pessoa Câmara
Tina and I have had a long week and a half. Between the two of us, we’ve traveled a couple thousand miles.
Just before all this traveling, I shot Spoek Mathambo at Lincoln Hall, July 18, 2012. Check out more of the shots at Time Out Chicago.
It was an interesting show. A bit poorly attended. Before the concert, I never heard of Spoek before. But I’ll definitely keep my eye on him now.
Here’s a bit of what Time Out wrote:
Johannesburg native Spoek Mathambo’s Sub Pop bio is full of futuristic labels, claims that the man’s two steps ahead of the status quo. That’s partly true, but Mathambo is simultaneously at least two steps behind, echoing earlier club groups Technotronic and Underworld with pounding bass. At Lincoln Hall, Mathambo went hard on his Roland SP-555, almost licking the machine as he manipulated it. But the theremin-y synth pad is just dressing, like a lot of Mathambo’s performance. Mathambo’s emcee skills are great, and blessed by a total lack of inhibition, but it’s hard to call his act hip-hop when his rhymes are buried beneath danceable chaos.
On Friday, I’m shooting Lollapalooza with our photography partner Bill Whitmire. The shots will be published at Time Out Chicago.
I can’t wait. It’ll be my first time back at the festival in a long time.
I’m hoping to blog as much of my experience via my phone as I can.
So check often with OCD madness for updates and awesome thoughts about the big weekend.
This is going to be the mighty, mighty Peeper Dee Makeup edition. With our vacation came less time and less access to internet.
And I wasn’t going to compromise R&R for posting Peeper Dee pictures on a slow connection speed.
This post will catch us up. If I missed one, I hope you’ll let me know. I’ll fold it into the next issue.
If you’re curious, Tuesday, July 31 is day 212.
Also keep in mind that I post these in no real order. I tend to throw a standout on top and bottom. But that’s not always the rule. Most times, it’s just the way the images fall.
So don’t read into anything. You’re all my favorites.
Continue reading “Ketchup on your fries: Peeper Dee Makeup Edition #s 209, 210 and 211.”
I may not believe in angels and demons, but I beweave in Shocantelle Brown’s ability to transform my hair into a treasure garden of magical bliss.
All weekend long, our repeated catch word was, “Okay-rrrrrr.” If you watch the first 20 seconds, you’ll know exactly how to pronounce it.
Do it yourself in the mirror, with your friends, on stage at live performances. You will be the life of the party.