Before I get into anything, and because I feel connected enough with the audience who thankfully chooses to come here so regularly, I want to publicly thank all of you for the support of this project over the last sixteen months.
I never thought I would see the day that I could still be maintaining momentum, and writing posts day after day and so throughly enjoying myself. That said, what I have to share is incredibly bitter sweet.
Photo courtesy of Paul Downey.
To make a long story short, and to kind of preface what I have to tell you, I used to work for an art handling company who were, among other things, responsible for taking care of Doris and her late husband Don Fisher’s collection (together they own The Gap, Old Navy and Banana Republic, and possess and amazing body of artwork.) After regularly working in the San Francisco corporate office’s galleries, I became friends with a few people who work there, and have kept in touch over the years.
A few months ago a couple of my friends there entrusted me with the fact that their department, which was formerly ‘street wear’ (for lack of a better term) will soon be releasing a line of urban cycling wear.
I can hear you groaning from here, but my friends are good people, committed cyclists, and are determined to make this a successful venture. Apparently their boss has been paying attention to what I have been doing here, and they have offered me an incredible opportunity to be in their employ as a full time copy writer, as well as to maintain their soon to be launched website called ‘The Gap In The Curb’, the transition for which will be effective immediately.
What this means is that as of the 10th of this month, the lights will be going dark here, but certainly if anyone would like to follow my exploits at The Gap In The Curb, I would be most appreciative to have you along. I will be reimbursing the good people in the Maximo Supremo section any remaining ad monies over the course of next week, and will fill all pending orders, but I’m afraid after that, and as much as it hurts my heart to say so, The Black Market will be closing its doors.
Speaking of curbs and gaps, would you like to talk about fixed gear freestyle, or as the kids call it, ‘FGFS’?
I didn’t think so.
A part of my ‘job’, if one were to refer what I do as such, is scanning the interwebs with my hobo sack slung over my shoulder. When I find a juicy morsel, I stow it away for future use. Sometimes I look at bike related sites, but more often than not, I look anywhere else I can for fodder. Like JPHNH texted me when I was asking for pointers on being a good journalist; “look where the douchebags are and go somewhere else.”
Not to give away my blogtastic secrets, but like Joe says, I do just that.
Unfortunately though, from time to time I will find myself wading through the circular bog of nonsense that is the bike world’s corner of the web and in doing so, recently came across some FGFS edits. It had been a while since I had seen any, so I thought I’d pop the cap on some Nyquil and see what had transpired in that world since I’d been away.
As it turns out, very little. The blistering soundtracks were still in place, as were the artistically composed shots, and clean editing. Unfortunately so was the complete absence of anything worth documenting.
Ordinarily I would embed a video here with which I would prove my point, but instead found one that is equally enthralling;
Now understand me when I say I love bikes… All kinds of them, and the more people who ride, the merrier the party. I’m not judging anyone by what type of bike they want to ride or how they want to ride it. I’m judging people for feeling the need to document every mind numbing moment of their hobby. I like to ride bikes, and in some instances, I can be fairly adept at it, but I’ve never felt a particular need to show the world my ability (or inability as the case sometimes is) via mini movies staring me.
Besides, and as I mentioned recently in another room of my webpire, watching any number of those edits anytime before or after the following (and previously regaled) clip of Ruben Alcantara is not unlike witnessing an individual plop down among the master works in the Louvre, set up an easel, and begin finger painting with their own feces;
Then again.. Maybe it’s just me. I would prefer witnessing something great.. Something unprecedented and maybe even life affirming than a poor, and barely comparable facsimile.
I suppose at the end of the day I just have to throw my hands up and say to each his own. I’m not terribly fond of soap shoeing, or autoerotic asphyxiation, but there are certainly those who are, and so I guess, good for them.
Just please don’t feel like you have to make a self congratulatory video about it.
Taking a moment to dip into the mail bag, A-Train made contact with a correspondence of the sort that makes my position worthwhile;
Your blog often mentions art that doesn’t suck, so I thought you might like some of this I-talian fella’s work. I think it doesn’t suck;
Also, while locking up at school today (I’m the only kid in my 8th grade class with a driver’s license and I bike to school. Maybe that’s why Suzie didn’t want to go the winter dance with me) I found myself staring at this bumper sticker;
Get one for your wife’s Lexus.
Yep.. That’s all very good stuff indeed, and as soon as I finish paying off her Jaguar, I’m going to get her that Lexus for the bumper sticker.
Also, and while on the topic of visual fodder, right here in practically my own backyard I’ve been notified of an art related goings on, that has been expressed unto me thusly;
“This not bike related whatsoever.
but, in the event you want to fit this into one of your posts this week, i’d be super stoked on the promo.
i’ve got an art opening this friday night over at chimera arts on the westside.
the show is –
half photography. (dead dogs in the desert and all things barren and lifeless).
half found-object work. (collective boxes of the broken off pieces of my life).
i intend to sell every single piece in the show on opening night.
(or at least that’s what dale carnegie suggested i plan for).
you can also tell me to go to hell. that’s pretty much what the show is about anyway.
A show about going to Hell..
If you are in the neighborhood, you’d be a fool to miss it.
In other news of goings on and goings off, the second issue of Paved Magazine is now well within the throes of distribution and along with it, a couple samplings of my minimal efforts. Not that the effort on my part was minimal mind you, as the total of 591 words took me weeks of effort, multiple attempts and at least three bottles of Makers Mark. I’m happy to report though, despite my inability to use my words in any level of efficiency, I have just completed the third installment of my ‘Axis of Stevil’ feature and if I do say so myself, the third time was the charm.
This proves the theory that if you force a paintbrush into a monkey’s hand for long enough, eventually he will learn how to paint.
Though much like the Chimpanzees in Desmond Morris’s experiments, I too will soon do the bare minimum in order to collect my peanuts.
While we are on the topic of speed cycling and the inspiration found therein, following weeks of soul crushing rain, I recently found a window in which to go explore my own little slice of Belgium;
The roads were endless, the farmlands vast, and the smell of fertilizer was at times overwhelming, but with my big boy pants firmly in place, I put my head down and took charge of the situation;
It’s days like this one that make yesterday worthwhile, and tomorrow an empty canvas open to any and all possibilities.
And I don’t even feel the need to make a video about it.