Thursday, December 17, 2009
here is the house the avalanche swept away, the conductor and a shadow, inspired by this slow and quiet winter white
a soft brizz is blowing a tenda brizz it kisses your eye gentil brizz it kirresses your face but strange feeling without and within a love messsige in slo scrawl ing h is for hel lo
anna heath live in gainesville, fl will go back home to the ocean
someday untill driving countryside and meeting member of the
williston woodturning club
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
In the misty vista of Appalachia, playing Art Teacher, I found you, and mistook the meaning of your hollow resonation.....
Christy Gast lives and works in Miami, FL, down the turnpike from the Holopaw exit. She has been two stepping to the soft strains of Holopaw since that fateful Halloween a decade ago.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Jesse James can be a bit literal at times. He likes his iPhone Scrabble, New York TImes Crosswords and listening to the wordplay that comes from the ever-quivering voice box of Holopaw. Throughout the new record, it became a game to find the recurring phrases that would come and go like reappearing extras in some small-town stage play.
Jesse has set up shop in his new basement office in Brooklyn and is continually looking to work for friends so he can remember why he started making stuff in the first place.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Here's something I kept thinking about while listening to the "art teacher and the little stallion." man/sea hybrid lovers. In my head they kept diving into each others hearts but I decided to leave them blowing alongside each other in the wind.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
The last time I was in New York I made 20 small paintings of Holopaw icons. These icons have shown up in various places on our website (see downloads page) and were recently gathered together as a t-shirt design for our last tour. I copied the paintings and cut out the icons intending to collage them together as part of this project. In the end, I used the negative space left behind and not the icons themselves. I collaged into the empty space images from a vintage pamphlet called Good Head I bought in the Tenderloin years ago at The Magazine. The zine is printed in red ink on matte paper. The images inside are various shades of washed out pink. Beautiful.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
I thought I was finished with the making portion of this release. After working up artwork for the cd, the record, the 7", buttons, a poster and t-shirts, I felt spent. But as the inspiring submissions for The Retelling began to arrive, I felt myself getting reeled back in. So much so that I've created six submissions to date and have ideas for many more. The first is my imagining of the Little Stallion character who reoccurs throughout the record. I drew it at my boyfriend Alan's apartment in Williamsburg. He has a small collection of silhouette portraits of boys. The silhouette I modeled this drawing from is a true dandy...clever hat, cascading curls and a ribbon at his throat. "Little Stallion kicking up the sand, run free."
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
I originally thought I would try and do my own album cover and try and utilize those crystal looking things that john draws. Then one day this vision came to me of a lamb (john's voice has a lamb-like quality) standing on a cloud with a crystal forest in the background. Easier said than done right? Well, this is what came from that vision. I think of it as an advertisement.
I am a pizza shop owner who likes to paint and collaborate with john at work.
Monday, November 30, 2009
This is my vision of the place of the "last transmission". I think that for me this song is about this internal space of declaration, an acknowledgement of an ending. I began to think about where the last transmission would come from, rather than what the transmission would be. I imagine that in general last transmissions are similar in tone and content... where they come from depends on so much.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
This is not a horse. I had this image of this white horse. I've kept this for several years waiting for its proper place. Horses appear in many of Holopaw's songs. They seem to disappear and reappear, at times fleeting and at times a force stronger than explanation. The metaphor, a symbol. I can't help but wonder who all these horses are...but perhaps there is more in thinking about the spirit in which they are summoned.
Joy Drury Cox lives in Brooklyn, NY and is in need of a new set of speakers and a time machine.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
My piece is inspired by a line in "P-a-l-o-m-i-n-e" that goes, "How could you know I was only bleeding?". I saw this as sort of dance or embrace between the self and the collective.
Michael Velliquette is an artist working in Madison, Wisconsin. For more info visit www.velliquette.com
Friday, November 27, 2009
Jen Kelly lives in Brooklyn, NY and is still daydreaming about her summer in Oulu, Wisconsin. That's where she learned to make beef jerky and jam, and she learned some basics in stained glass. "Oh Glory. Oh Wilderness." helps her conjure the state she loved being in: wandering through the Northwoods, wary of bears and squinting against sunshine that streamed though the trees in a certain way.
Her favorite place to shop is in nature, where she keeps finding rocks and branches that she needs to keep. Currently, she is working on some more drawings, and mobiles made with driftwood from Lake Superior and glass raindrops for sale on etsy.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Singing Tower / Black Lacquered Shame
I have always loved Holopaw music. From the two piece guitar (Jeff) and a single crash cymbal (played by John while singing) to the eleven member keyboard and effects heavy ensemble and now the rock and roll unit which once again has combined the best musical talent of Gainesville, FL. When asked to contribute, I found myself working through a series of paintings. These paintings show structures that could be seen as monuments, heaps of refuse, utilitarian or useless, in flux or static, etc...I enjoy the duality. For my contribution, I picked my three favorite songs from Wilderness and made a painting for each song. The songs I focused on where Black Lacquered Shame, The Lazy Matador, and Oh, Glory.
Micah lives in Columbus Ohio. He enjoys spending time with his sweetheart Kristen and cat Mobley. He often wonders, "What it do?"
Monday, November 23, 2009
My brain goes wild with images when I listen to music.
And living in NYC, it's easy to get carried away - full-scale musicals happen on the subway, out on the street, I jump on the vacant seat of a tandem bike, hailing its' teen driver, spindly metal taxi... and then between squirrels and pigeons tapping their feet and beaks to the rhythm I pulsate and strut. Strut and strut and strut, eyes to the sky.
But when I listen to Holopaw, my chin lowers, all the rushed movements and passerbys smooth out - glinted silvery light takes over and I find myself in a soft world of tenderness, hope, fallen beauty. It's white; snow, or cotton perhaps, lit up and hazy. White sun like fingers, combing over creatures beneath. I can wander through it. I can go slowly. I can take a sharp breath in if I want. I am crestfallen, perhaps, but in the prettiest way.
(Treasures are so often filled with both wonder and regret, no?)
And then, filled with foxes and matadors, I hear, "The tenderness of these wolves, so curious... You know, I'd do it again for the thrill of these crystalline peaks. I'm gasping your wilderness in."
Shoulders shrugged, head set down, my wolf/fox/
bullfighter rests beneath the arctic sun. Golds and blues, pink socks. White sky, blue ring, inspired by the landscape of the words and sounds, or maybe, just maybe, simply from the white splinters inside john orth's own eyes which I only just noticed this summer - on the black waters of Lake Santa Fe, grey raindrops starting to fall, his legendary blues out-twinkling Sinatra, the startling white marks his own crystallines - after I asked something to the effect of...
You lean forward...and I'll lean forward...
Angela lives and works in Brooklyn and cherishes walking; over bridges, down streets, through parks - eying endless city strangers, and, at home, instead of battling her frequent insomnia, rather celebrates it with 4 a.m. headphone dancing.
Mike Taylor believes in the occult power of the image; he was born in Tampa and lives in Miami. Contact him at www.emptymountain.org
Jessica Strang is a freelance writer and photographer currently living in Miami, Florida; she was born in Alabama and loves arranging and rearranging words.