Kretchmer

"Paper+Paint" at Eyeporium Gallery

2010-03-30T01:21:34Z

Opening reception April 2nd, 6pm-9pm

Marianna Levant and I hung our work at Eyeporium on Saturday afternoon, and the installation looks phenomenal - it's going to be a great show.

The gallery moved to a nicer, bigger space, and this is the first show at the new location. They're installing track lighting this week, so hopefully they'll have the show well lit by Friday for the opening.

I left catalogs of my work behind the counter. We'd meant to do a show catalog together, but Marianna was still in the midst of creating her work and, understandably, didn't want to rush it. So rather than drop the project altogether, I went ahead and put together a catalog for myself. The books cost me a pretty penny - I went with the premium paper - but they look fantastic and I'm really happy with the way they turned out.

Discovered

2009-12-10T04:14:16Z

On Sunday evening the sun set and I forgot to close the blinds. It was around 5pm and I was at my computer when I heard a rustling outside the front windows; I looked up to see that there were roughly a dozen neighborhood kids staring in my studio windows with wide eyes and jaws dropped. I suppose it must have been strange to suddenly catch a glimpse of my odd, colorful little world. All the paintings that cover the walls and floor, my parrot sitting in his manzanita tree, the gramophone... When they saw me notice them one girl waved and yelled "will you paint ME???" I laughed and waved back, shaking my head. I paint abstract, what can I say? Embarrassed, I politely lowered the blinds. If it had just been a few I would have invited them in, but a dozen kids in here? That would have been nuts.

Guns and Butter

2009-08-09T14:10:06Z

Back in 2002 I did a series of paintings called "Guns and Butter". They were plain color fields with stenciled objects spray painted on them, and the stencils were of things that are glamorous yet bad for us; specifically, guns, wedding cakes, and my old '68 Dodge Polara. It was a pretty nice series, and I had a couple pieces sell.

Pink Magnum was bought by a girl who's father had killed himself with a magnum handgun. She called me up and asked to meet with me at the cafe where I was showing, and we spoke over coffee. When I found out why she was buying my piece I felt awful. I didn't want her to be reminded of her loss every time she looked at my painting.

But in those days I was desperately poor. So I took the $100 and handed over the painting.

The second painting from that series sold five months later when I showed my work at Around the Coyote. I'd been positioned in a horrible stairwell in a studio about half a mile from the epicenter of the festival, and very few people wandered by to see my work. Generally they were just kids out getting drunk or people who wanted to do something "cultural" but who had no real intention of buying any art. I sat on the hard steps of the stairwell the entire weekend, and endured the awful behavior of the women who's studio it was. They had a tendency to bully in a passive-aggressive way, and in order to keep the peace I'd had to go spend $40 I didn't have on wine and cheese. But I think the real reason they were so mean to me was because I actually sold a piece, and despite all their art degrees, I don't think they did.

A charismatic middle-aged woman with a small entourage of family and friends came through on Saturday afternoon and she was immediately taken by Pink Cake. I don't remember if she actually bought it on the spot or if she came back for it the next day, but I do remember that after she made the purchase her son came up to me. "I don't think you know who my mother is," he told me. "She's a big collector. The fact that she bought one of your pieces makes me think I should, too." He told me about how his mother had either helped to discover the Outsider art movement or maybe she was just a massive supporter of it - I don't completely recall - but in any case, she was apparently a Big Deal.

The part of this story that kills me - well, there are actually TWO parts of this story that kill me - Number One is that I lost the check she gave me, and Number Two is that I never had a chance to photograph the painting before I handed it over to her.

Two years later I actually found the check she'd written out to me, but rather than cash it or save it or even bother to write down her name, I destroyed it, feeling that it would be rude to cash a check so long after it was written. If only I could go back in time and stop myself from shredding it - I could have at least saved it as a souvenir. But all that's in the past now. Abegetan.

The cockroach mercy killer

2009-08-09T05:48:43Z

I come across a large insect struggling on the sidewalk, about an inch long, maybe a bit bigger. It's a cockroach, and two of it's back legs are smashed. It's a hot, muggy August night and the creature must have wandered out from the safety of the cozy drain it's been living in for the past decade, only to be partially mashed by an errant shoe or bicycle tire. The thing is trying to maneuver itself, struggling over and over to move it's oozing legs and walk, but it makes no progress, and it's antennae twirl in agitation. I watch it for a moment and I wonder if it is in pain? If it is afraid? I know it can't have long to live in this condition, smashed up like it is. It must have a nervous system. Of course it does. Of course it has some sense of distress. So that's it, down comes my shoe and I smash it as hard as I can. There, it's done.

I look up and see that I am near a ritzy club with all sorts of slinky girls hanging around outside the entrance. They wear satin hot pants and silky dresses paired with high high heels, and I feel so different from them. Gold Diggers; they're the future Wives of America, the future Mothers of America, laughing loudly as they're gently petted, prodded and shepherded around by their boyfriends.

And I'm the Cockroach Mercy Killer.

My lungs are in pain tonight and I'm not so sure this bronchitis is going to go away on it's own after all. Monday I will go see a doctor if my condition has not improved; walking Pneumonia is not something I want to deal with.

Teeth

2009-07-10T22:04:59Z

This has to be the strangest thing I've ever found in my alley - several sets of plaster teeth:

A little black box just sitting on top of a dumpster getting rained on. Of course I had to see what was inside the little drawers, and of course I had to stow it in my bag when I discovered it was teeth!

Scar tissue

2009-06-30T16:36:46Z

Finished this piece this morning. It was a fight until the end, culminating in a blue glaze and the complete removal of the original surface.

The Firehouse at Dawn

2009-05-28T05:45:24Z

I reworked the surface, and now I'm happy with it.

I feel that this piece, as well as Glasser, are on a whole new level when compared to all my other work. The old paintings look dingy and stiff to me now, while the two new ones look so colorful and fresh.

Ruin

2009-05-18T17:31:16Z

A building being torn down along Chicago Avenue, seen early this morning.

The firehouse at dawn

2009-05-16T16:07:32Z

With unsanded edges and untrimmed top and bottom, this new 20"x20" piece is a departure from what I typically do, and I'm still trying to decide how I feel about it.