It’s often been said that art is in the eye of the beholder, but I suspect whoever said that was the same asshole who declaired Duchamp signing ‘R. Mutt’ on a urinal was culturally significant.
One thing I think I can agree with most folks on is that seeing artwork in the environs in which it was created is far and above more relatable than to see it in the sterile confines of a gallery or museum.
As a matter of fact, since I was a young fella mashing around Oakland on a mountain bike wearing overalls and a Colorado Rockies hat, I’ve been far more intrigued with artists’ studios than (in a number of cases), the work that came out of them. If I were to ever get my act together, I’d put effort towards a book called ‘Other People’s Studios’, and I would travel around the world with a photographer in tow to document a broad array of environments in which art folk ply their craft. Of course getting my act together and I are rarely synonymous, so I’ll have to A) wait until someone else does it, or B) wait until someone forwards me a link showing me that someone else has already done it.
Anyway, it was with great interest when I came across this link featuring ‘one hundred famous artists and their studios;
Though technically, by my count there were 236 studios shown, and since Lucian Freud’s studio appeared three times, it’s 234 famous artists and their studios;
And since Jeff Koons is a hack, who has never made any of his own work and should be wiped from the pages of history, We’ll stick with 233;
Just the same, these spaces (my own, as well as those of others) hold a special place in my heart. Knowing this, my life partner presented me with a book on the subject this past Christmas;
Not only is author Joe Fig obsessed with the creative space, but takes his documentation of the subject a step further by actually interviewing the artists who occupy the studios;
But then he goes so far to build tiny replica models of the studios, which he then photographs;
It’s safe to say Joe’s obsession with these particular types of rooms goes far and beyond my own.
As we all know however, creative minds come in all shapes and sizes, and I was honored recently to take part in a photo shoot with two in particular being Pamela Palma, and the nicest guy in the cycling cap business, Kachusha ‘Chuey’ Munkanta;
The fruits of Pamela’s efforts will eventually be presented in a brand spankin’ new website for Chuey’s imprint, which will presumably allow folks direct contact with the legend himself, so people can stop emailing me and asking how they can get in contact with him.
Until that time however, he will remain the Bigfoot of the bicycle world, and I will continue to happily forward emails.
By the way though, I still have my own branded Chuey caps for sale that I would very much love to sell here, and here;
In other news of soft goods what make your bikecycle ride a considerably more fashionable affair, I was notified by the good people at Voler on Wednesday morning that the newest run of All Hail The Black Market knitwear is now up and ready for prime time on our partnership page;
I have worn my own set of these new threads and can say with confidence that they made me both 115% faster and better looking than I was prior to their arrival, which of course is to say that I’m still slower and worse looking than everybody else, but that’s my cross to bear.
Both of these bits of news preface a bit of news and a plea, both of which is kind of a drag. Upon my maiden journey atop my freshly fixed and painted Hunter Bicycle;
I crashed, as I have a thousand times before, on a section I’ve never not cleaned and stepped off wrong, sending my right knee like so;
After I came to a stop my first thought was to remain calm and try to prevent going into shock.
I’m not entirely sure how long that process took, but I eventually pulled myself onto the trail, my right leg doing nothing aside from being a weighty log of excruciating pain. Eventually I made it to the road, where I met up with Yafro and later DeMonika, where she offered me some dry clothes and a ride to the hospital. X-rays were shot, and though nothing is wrong with my framework (I could have told them that), I will soon schedule an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon to get and MRI and find out just what the fuck is going on in there. So far the technical term is ‘lateral hyperextension resulting in a ruptured MCL, and potentially a ruptured patella.’
As I sat off the side of the bushes, I reflected on how insane it was that it actually took this long for something like this to occur. At this point in my life I have literally logged hundreds of thousands of hours of riding, racing, and engaging in various forms of adventuring. The fact that I’ve never hurt myself- like really hurt myself is nothing short of a miracle, and I guess my time was over due.
So now, even though I’m thankfully insured, I’m staring down the barrel of a bunch of unplanned additional medical costs.
If you happened to wander through the store and by one or two or more of something or everything, I would really appreciate that.