Well maybe I'm a mini-artist...except I'm tall.

"Recently there has been much written about minimal art, but I have not discovered anyone who admits to doing this kind of thing. There are other art forms around called primary structures, reductive, rejective, cool, and mini-art. No artist I know will own up to any of these either. Therefore I conclude that it is part of a secret language that art critics use when communicating with each other through the medium of art magazines. Mini-art is best because it reminds one of miniskirts and long-legged girls. It must refer to very small works of art. This is a very good idea. Perhaps “mini-art” shows could be sent around the country in matchboxes. Or maybe the mini-artist is a very small person, say under five feet tall."

 Sol Lewitt, "Paragraphs on Conceptual Art"

Tiny, tiny, dirty pictures

Hello my wonderful friends!  So I finally got around to photographing the miniatures that I started working on up at ChaNorth (which I'm actually returning to on Wednesday...it's a long story, I'll explain later).  So here's what you've all be waiting for!

Tiny mementos! Painted with very tiny paintbrushes on very tiny pieces of ivory!

 

This image is a little bit bigger than a quarter (32 mm)

(43 mm x 30 mm)

(75 mm x 50 mm)

(65 mm round)

(75 mm x 50 mm)

(95 mm x 65 mm)

All of them are watercolor on ivory (except the last one which you've already seen, which is watercolor on ivorine).  Stay posted for many, many more cellphone captured whispers of sweet nothings loving rendered and preserved for all time.  Because I promise, there are many, many more to come...

Open Studios in the countryside

So it turned out that the play write that was supposed to replace me at ChaNorth had to postpone his visit, so I got to stay a little longer out here with the chickens.  But just in case any one happens to be driving through Dutchess County on their way to Columbia County (or something like that) the residency is having an Open Studios this Saturday the 30th.

I somehow forgot my camera this trip, but I have to head home for the evening tomorrow, so I promise I'll take some pictures then and show everyone the tiny, tiny paintings of dirty, dirty people I've been working on.  They're coming along quite well, if I do say so myself.  And as a surprise for everyone that just happens to be passing through, you'll get to see them before everyone else since they'll be hanging somewhere where hopefully people will notice them...they are awfully tiny...

It's hot in the countryside

It's been a crazy month.

July 4th in Maryland, eating as many crabs as I could with the family, then whisked off to a fabulous wedding cum mini-RISD reunion in Sonoma, to finally end up in Dutchess County, New York at a residency in the middle of nowhere.

It's been a crazy good month.

It's great up here, hotter than balls, but from what I hear it's hotter than balls everywhere in the Northeast, and I have the freshest organic produce (that we helped grow and harvest) to eat, chickens to pet (when I do venture outside) and a lake nearby to cool off in (while working on my suntan). Oh, and art to make.  I'm off at  chaNorth, a great little residency that normally last a month, but I'm here for only 2 weeks.

Here's an image of my hectic little studio space, and when I'm not melting I'll post a few pictures of what I'm working on...it's just too hot to do that right now...

Tradition at it's finest

So I've started this new project of miniature portrait paintings on ivory.  And I am so excited about it.  I mean, really excited about it.

Let me preface this a little bit.  About a month ago, when I came up with the idea I turned to my plethora of wonderful, exhibitionist friends and sent them this email:


My dear, dear friends...

It's not often that I make such requests of you, and no, this time I'm not asking you to go out there and steal paint chips, but I need your help with a project...

I've decided that I want to do a series of traditional miniature ivory paintings.  A little historical background: Portrait miniatures began to flourish in 16th century Europe and the art was practiced during the 17th century and 18th century. They were especially valuable in introducing people to each other over distances; a nobleman proposing the marriage of his daughter might send a courier with her portrait to visit potential suitors. Soldiers and sailors might carry miniatures of their loved ones while traveling, or a wife might keep one of her husband while he was away.

So how do we make this contemporary and where do all my wonderful friends come in, you say? Well, I've been thinking that we have a version of this: dirty cell phone pictures.  You send a picture to a lover when they're away, or introduce yourself to a new lover, and they can carry it with them in their pocket and take it out to look at whenever they miss you.  Yes. I want you to send me your cellphone dirty pictures so I can immortalize them in delicate watercolor on thin sheets of ivory (or real calf skin vellum since it's cheaper- I'm getting some samples to test out).  They don't even have to be of you! Better yet, send me pictures that other people have sent you as little mementos to remember then when they can't be near.

No names necessary, feel free to take some new picts of yourself to have on hand in your phone to send out at the spur of the moment, send me some picts of you and your partner, picts of your partner, picts of whatever it is people send each other to illicit warm, happy thoughts (down there). And I know and as always appreciate that some of you over the years have already sent me dirty pictures just to make me smile in the morning, which they always do.

You know you wanna do it...it'll be like we're all high school kids sexting things that are parents would NOT approve of!

Thanks!

Katie 

And the pictures started coming in.  Oh my Lord, did the pictures start coming in.  They're great.  But I just wanted to share with you the first one (that looks good, there was one finished before this one, but I'm not happy with it).  

So for your viewing pleasure, here it is! Miniature #1, it measures 3" x 2.5" and is watercolor on ivory.  

OK, back to the studio to get working on the next one!

Woohoo!

Because I'm so prim and proper, and would never gloat...never...I'm just putting this on here because it's such an interesting read.

http://magazine.saatchionline.com/magazine-articles/artnews/behind-the-canvas-saatchi-online-interview-with-katie-commodore

Or I'm so excited about it I want to shout from the rooftops! Look! Saatchi Magazine interviewed me! Woohoo! AW-E-SOME!!!!

OK, I'll stop now. I'm sorry I've been so quiet since I got back to Brooklyn. It's been crazy busy. I never got around to telling you about 4 operas, crazy random encounters with boys from Prague, learning how to paint traditional ivory miniatures, the excitement of creating a real mailing list, and Lord knows what else.

But, don't worry, I won't let the interview go to my head...much.

Back to Brooklyn

I may have completely forgot to mention that I left London and am back in cloudy, chilly Brooklyn.  And although it makes me long for the days of lounging in the sunny London morning on Kelly's terrace with a cup of coffee and a dog or three curled up on my lap, truth be told, it's nice to be home and able to wear something other than the weeks worth of clothes I packed.

But just for nostalgia's sake...here's the view from the terrace.  I'll see you soon, Shoreditch.

The Title Fight!

The show looked amazing! Thank you to everyone that came by and ate cupcakes and drank cheap wine.  But for the millions of or devoted art followers on the other side of the pond (or world, or country, or wherever you may be that prevented you from to coming to the exhibition of the century) here are some pictures of what you missed...

And as it turned out Friday morning there was also a Benefit for Red Cross Japan where a bunch of local bakers donated wonderful confectionaries and all the funds from sales went to The Red Cross's efforts in Japan, http://cakesforjapan.wordpress.com/.  We heard about it the day before and counted on being there at 11 am to buy a bunch of yummy things to have for snacks at the opening.  And at 11 am, it was packed. From what we heard by 2 pm they had sold out of everything.  Which made everyone who made it to the show extra lucky, because not only did they get to see amazing art, but they also had there pick of these!

And then the people started to come, and as the night went on Kelly and I were enjoying ourself and the gallery got crowded, and it was fantastic.  For a little pop-up show with only a couple weeks to promote it, a lot of people cam by, thanks guys!  So here's your moment of fame:

And there were more...but I was too busy being social to remember to take pictures. I was proud of myself for taking this one (and one very blurry one later in the evening).

And then we all went out for Vietnamese and it was delicious and then we all just sat back and basked in our glowing artstardom! Well, except for me who had to go home early due to an allergic reaction to my dinner (I'm allergic to soy) so I just slowly nodded off to a slightly drug dimmed artstar glow.  But I will admit, this show went so well, and looked so good, I may just have to challenge Kelly to a rematch...you hear that Kelly McCallum? Rematch! New York vs. London!

London vs. New York

Come one! Come all! To the show of the Century!

You'll get to see 6! Count them 6! New paintings, all completed here, in lovely London! (well cross your fingers that I actually finish all 6...)

London Fashion Week

What goes better with art than fashion?  It's like peanut butter and chocolate, or rye, sweet vermouth and a dash of bitters.  Ok, maybe rockstars go with art equally well, but that's just like switching the rye for bourbon: you still get an amazing cocktail.

Anywho, a couple weeks ago, my friend Kelly McCallum (whom I'm staying with in London) got a call asking her to create some sculptures for the upcoming show of designer Saloni's fall/winter 2011 collection.  So she created these amazing flamingos with crystals growing on their feet, referencing a natural phenomenon that happens to baby flamingos as they grow up on the African salt flats, to be used in the styling of the room.  And let me say (not just because she's a good friend) but they looked fantastic.

They were the perfect backdrop for Saloni's beautiful designs.  And although my pictures are a bit blurry (cell phones are only so ideal for documenting moving models) this next image gives you a little bit of an idea of how it looked during the show (plus, it's also my favorite outfit from the collection)...

But we had a blast, Kelly wound up being interviewed on Fashion TV, and both of us would up doing a small blog interview about a show you have coming up next month in Shoreditch, which I'll tell you more about when I'm not about to run to the studio.  Between all the free champagne and adorable little fanciful cupcakes and all the fabulously dressed people we met and chatted with, it was one fantastic afternoon.  Although I will say, next time I'm invited to a runway show, remind me to dress up...I was one of maybe 2 people in jeans, and possibly the only woman not in heels...sometimes us artists play our part a little too well and forget that sometimes even we have to clean up a little bit.  At least I'd showered and remembered to put on deodorant.

But you should check out Saloni's fall/winter line:
http://www.londonfashionweek.co.uk/designers_catwalk.aspx?designerid=1790&seasonid=23#pic0
And if you really loved me, you'd buy me a piece or two to wear to my upcoming opening in March.  Or at least invite me to more fashion show, because they can always use more artists in the audience, right?

Happy Belated Valentine's Day!

Just to prove to all of you that I'm one of the greatest friends of all time, I present this exhibit of awesomeness:


Bleeding Heart Cakes from Lili Vanilli (www.lilyvanilli.com/)


Kelly McCallum, the awesome friend that I'm staying with while I'm in London (making this whole trip possible) saw a blog post about these amazing cakes that look like human hearts and then you cut them open and they bleed red raspberry and currant wonderfulness.  And she was so excited about them that I tried to get a few for Valentine's Day...but poor Lili was completely sold out.


Well, a lesser friend would go, 'hey, I tried..."


But I'm an awesome friend...and 22 e-mails and 2 days later I found myself in the possession of 4 of these fantastic confectionary creations.

And Kelly was so excited, she gave me a hug.


And then we ate them after a healthy dinner of fresh pasta with mushroom ragout.


Before:

Thirty seconds later:

After:

Turns out it dyes your mouth red.  But man they were good. red velvet cake, with red glossy cream cheese frosting on the outside and berry goo...now that is love on Valentine's Day.

London painting #1

I understand that some of you might think that I'm not doing anything but eating and drinking, which is in truth how I spend a lot of my time, but I have been making art as well!  So without further ado, I'd like to introduce you to Chris and Laika:

As usual, it's a gouache painting on paper, with just a touch of watercolor to do the plaid of his shirt. I couldn't buy my normal paper here, so I'm using a brand, Saunders Wateford, which I've never used before and it definitely behaves differently than Rives BFK...but that's something that only printmakers and drawers care about, and I don't want to bore you.  I know it's not nearly as dirty as my other work, but sometimes you just need to do something to get you started.  And besides, I have to give myself a little bit of time to make some new friends.

And for those of you who really need to know the juicy details, the boy is Chris, a jeweler friend of Kelly's, and the dog is Laika, and no, she is not a pug, she's a very friendly French bulldog.  Not that Chris isn't friendly.

Brunch English Style

So the Brits don't really do brunch, that wonderful institution so beloved by us New Yorkers.  Is there a meal more perfect for a Sunday then brunch? Rich eggs and wild boar apple sausage, challah french toast with seasonal fruit compote, or wild mushroom omelettes with heirloom tomato salads all washed down with enough mimosas or bloody maries to take the edge off of Saturday night's revelry.  I love brunch.  And the British just don't do brunch.

But what they do have is pub roast.  Instead of eggs and mimosas, you go out on Sunday afternoon to the local pub and have a roast with all the fixings.  At the Dragon, one of my adoptive locals, changes their roast every week.  This past Sunday you had a choice of roast leg of lamb with mint sauce or roast beef with horseradish sauce (oh and there's a nut loaf for you crazy vegetarians) served with roast potatoes, carrots, and turnips, sauteed cabbage, cheesey cauliflower, and a Yorkshire pudding.  It may not be eggs benedict with home smoked salmon, but it's pretty freaking good.

You sit around in the pub all afternoon and eat this giant plate of meat and roast veg and then just drink all afternoon.  Whereas brunch when you've finished eating and have a good buzz on, everyone then goes out for a stroll and window shops or just continues chatting.  There's something to be said for the after brunch promenade, but there's also something really nice about just eating a huge meal and then everyone sitting around all afternoon drinking in a warm pub...which is why it's a good thing I joined a gym here.

And I'll admit, I'll pass on the bloody mary for a Guinness anytime.

EVERYTHING!!!!

There is an amazing exhibit here in London right now called the Museum of Everything, and it has, well, to put it mildly, almost everything you could possibly want to see in a succession of rooms.  It may be the best show I've seen in years.

This incarnation of the show is their third, and it completely focuses on outsider art and a strange collection of Victorian photographs of mostly midget circus performers.  And it's amazing.  It's been a really long time since I saw an exhibit that inspired me this much.  Not that there are ideas that I want to steal, but I walked out of the show chomping at the bit to get in the studio and wanting to know more about a few of the artists and the styles.  It never occurred to me that I need to learn sign painting techniques, or that embroidery could look that awesome when it depicts naked ladies.  I wish I could have taken photographs so I could show all of you how absolutely wonderful it was.  But here at least is the website, http://www.museumofeverything.com/ , and if you're in London see it before it closes...if you're not in London, well, um, you can buy a ticket to London and then go see it.

There aren't really any images on the website, so I found this one for you all ('cause I'm just so nice and want everyone to enjoy everything like I did)...http://www.theartsdesk.com/index.php?option=com_k2&view=item&id=2402:art-gallery-the-museum-of-everything&Itemid=23 They have an image from each part of the show (many of you will be surprised when I tell you that my favorite is Ted Willcox).

Enjoy everything!

Making some art in London

I've run away to the wonderful city of London to make art here, since it sometimes gets old making art in boring Brooklyn.  But check out the studio space I'm in!  I've got a corner in KM Studios, which is a good friend and amazing artist Kelly McCallum, and it's fantastic.  So now on to making art!

From the easy to the the unpopular

Seeing as I have to maintain my jetsetter lifestyle, I'm running away to London for two and a half months in a few weeks, which naturally means I have to switch a bunch of opera tickets.  No biggy, it just means that my opera season is a bit compressed now.  Lucky you! Either you get to hear about lots of opera all at once, or you get a huge break from hearing about any opera and only about my travels...I guess it depends on what you prefer to read.

But the ticket switcharoo means I got to see "Don Carlo", which I've only heard good things about.  I know I've said this before, I'm a big fan of Verdi.  He's just pretty, I can pretend to sing along, you can breathe along with a Verdi aria...I really like Verdi.  And although there are hundreds of people that have spend thousands of hours working on dissertations and studying his work, the basic truth is: he's an easy composer. Non-opera lovers can sit through one of his operas (even the ones that are 4 hours long like "Don Carlo") and still walk away smiling (if it's a good production).  And the MET did a fine job, the sets were nice (well they did include burning heretics) , the costuming understated, but beautiful, and the singing was fine.  I have very little to say about "Don Carlo".  I was really excited to get to see it, I wasn't disappointed, but it sure didn't blow my mind like "House of the Dead" last season or "Lucia de Larimoor" the season before.  Ferruccio Furlanetto, who played King Philip, was incredible I will admit, but he was the only stand out actor in the production. Not that everyone else was bad! They were fine, it's just that that's it, everything was just fine.

Then on Friday I saw "Pelleas et Melisande".  I'll start off with even for an opera lover, two operas in a week is a bit much...but...

"Pelleas et Melisande" is Debussy's only completed opera.  I had never heard of it.  And I was there opening night,  and I know that I wasn't the only one there that had never heard of it.

It's a difficult opera.  Folks that came for Mozart, that love Verdi (and as I just said I love me some Verdi) were not enjoying themselves, a lot of people left half way through (a lot of people left less than half way through).  However, after just saying this: I loved this opera.  It is so amazingly modern, everything that "Dr. Atomic" had tried to be but horrifically failed at achieving (which is strange I compare the two because Gerald Finley plays the lead in both: Golaud in "Pelleas et Melisande" and John Adams in "Dr. Atomic").  It's the imaginary story of an older king who marries a girl he knows nothing about that he finds in the woods.  When he brings her back to the castle she falls in love with his half-brother, and when he finds out, he gets mean and kills his half-brother, and then she dies in the end during child birth (but the king's child).  Standard opera story.  But it's an almost 4 hour long opera, that description took 30 seconds.  The opera is really about all the things you don't say to the people you love and don't love, the withheld moments and possibilities of life, in other words awkward silences and regrets.  It's so human it's hard to believe you're watching an opera.  At the same time though, the story is so far fetched that it blows your mind as you walk out on the street still feeling a little awkward for watching a series of relationships self destruct that realistically when there's absolutely nothing realistic about the actual story.

Debussy called it his "ideal" opera: a symbolist piece not meant for the masses.  There are no librettos, no arias, just musical emotion, and it is profound.  I often wonder why it is that I love the opera so much, and so often the only conclusion I come to is that I love the extremes, but I don't think that's entirely true.  What I think I love is the impossible truth that's hidden in them.  Not the extremes, but the realities hidden in the absurd, and it's the operas that emphasis that part of the medium that I have learned move me the most: "Pelleas et Melisande", "House of the Dead", although not so much "Lucia de Larimoor", it's still just a bella canti opera with a really, really good aria at the end.

Scary clowns, hipsters, and tragedy, oh my!

Just so you know, my life is not all art and operas, I do other things.  Like go to haunted houses!  My friend Greg did some animation work for the guy who created Nightmare: Superstitions a while back and so he got free tickets to "the scariest haunted house in America", and naturally invited me along.  I admit it, I was a haunted house virgin.  Outside of childhood/teenage things in the cornfields of Danbury or wherever Blue Jay Orchards is, I have never been to a haunted house.  So I had done a fairly good job of completely psyching myself out, I'd totally prepared myself to have the shit scared out of my for real...but as you probably could have told from my movie preferences, I am not the easiest person to scare.  But luckily a couple of the people in our group were and that made it way more entertaining.  Because there is nothing more entertaining than screaming strangers.

And after we survived the horrors of the haunted house, Greg's friend gave us a backstage tour.  Which was the best part.  Then we got to watch screaming strangers from behind curtains and one way mirrors, and get to see all the costuming and fun little tricks.  And then to top it all off, the ghost of Bloody Mary gave me a bottle of Bloody Mary mix to enjoy.  Which lead me to the theory that if more mirror haunting ghosts gave more people cocktail mix, they would be way less scary.  But then again, maybe that defeats their whole purpose in haunting mirrors in the first place...

That was Friday, Saturday I did nothing.  For real, nothing.  I watched 4 movies on my Roku player and ate some left over soup.

Sunday however, Greg had also invited me to the second half of his free-stuff-for-doing-stuff adventure weekend.  He had been given tickets to the Sufjan Stevens show at the Beacon Theater for doing some of the animation used in the visuals for the show.  The haunted house was fun, but for this I owe Greg a pie.  It was amazing.  I do have all of Sufjan's albums, but I don't listen to them very often, because in truth, I can only take him in small doses.  I don't have a good explanation for why, but he's not normally my speed.  But, this is why I owe Greg a pie, that might have been the most beautiful few hours of my life while surrounded by a thousand strangers.  Sufjan, sadly, cannot dance, but he makes up for that in spades by being simply gorgeous and possessing the most amazing voice I have ever heard in person.  And his band, although not as pretty, were equally fantastic.  On key, on tempo, perfect at all times.  It was beautiful.  I have seen where hipsters go when they die: a never ending Sufjan Stevens concert.  It almost made me wish I was a hipster...well, at least it made me miss my emo-hair.

And then so you aren't left feeling too uncomfortable with this departure from art and opera, Monday I went to the opera.  And for once, I was there early (normally that's me you see running down Broadway towards Lincoln Center praying that I'll get in my seat within the next 40 seconds, cursing the B train delays and World News for being so entertaining).  As I'm strolling around outside, enjoying this strange sensation of not rushing to the opera, watching the fountain, killing time, there is a ruckus.  More than a ruckus, hundreds of screaming teens off to the side.  So seeing as I have 30 minutes to kill, I wonder over to explore.  And there is the Harry Potter red carpet or at least something resembling the red carpet, and the cast of Harry Potter showing off their grown-up looks and hundreds of screaming teens overwhelmed by the stars real-life presence only mere meters away (cause it was more than just a few feet).  Little kids were besides themselves, teenagers in costumes were screaming, and the amateur paparazzi were clicking away.  It made me giggle.  And then as the stars finished their promenade, I made my way back to the MET and inside to watch "Il Travatore"

I first saw "Il Travatore" at the Verdi Theater in Florence, just down the street from my apartment on via Ghibelina.  I know I saw it, and I have a CD with a couple of the songs on it, but I honestly don't remember it at all.  The Firenzian opera company was not that spectacular, and seeing as my Italian wasn't so spectacular either, it's not like I had that good of an idea as to what on earth was really going on anyway.  I mean, I remembered that this is the one where everyone dies, but I confuse it with "La Traviata" where almost everyone dies.  It was fantastic.  Verdi (one of my favorite opera gods I admit it) makes it hard on the singers, and they did a wonderful job.  It's a silly opera, completely implausible.  Switched accidentally murdered babies, gypsy curses that weren't real, kidnapped ladies, and slow acting poison, but that's OK, because it's so beautiful you find yourself not actually reading the subtitles because you're too busy listening.  It's an easy opera, people that don't like opera can't help but like Verdi.  And in case beautiful accessible librettos aren't enough for you, Horatio was back! You remember beautiful, tall Horatio with his couple of lines in "Hamlet"? Well he was there, looking fine in his Napoleonic uniform.  In addition to that, I've told you about operas with horses, and dogs, and chickens, and other such exciting things...this one's got a bunch of topless men, hammering on anvils, pouring water on themselves to cool themselves off, But don't worry Horatio, they mean nothing to me, nothing.

Bunches of art

So a while back I mentioned this amazing show that I was in SOHO at a fantastic gallery called Spattered Columns (you remember, the opening I missed back in September because I was working on my tan).  Well, the closing was on the 19th, and it was also a spectacular success (in the words of the gallery owner at least).  There was a panel discussion between the artists, the curator, and the Director of the Flux Factory, Ginger Shulick, which I naturally stressed about for weeks, and went quite smoothly and absolutely nothing embarrassing was asked while my parents were in the audience.

Also, remember that restaurant with the amazing clams from god? Well, I actually got my parents there to enjoy its plentiful splendors...mmmmm clams from god...after all my talk of never getting my parents that far south to enjoy some of the wonderful food choices hidden around the rest of Manhattan, they found themselves already that far south, so it was a natural leap to dragging them a few blocks away to MSG heaven.  And yes, we ate until we almost burst...and then I went a celebrated some more with some good whiskey in the LES.

But back to the more important part...here's your chance to take a look at the show! Even though it's already taken down, walls returned to white, and the next show already installed.

The blue wallpaper installation in the back is Sean Lugo's and the wall collage is by Natalie Lanese.

Here's another image of Natalie's piece and how it then interacted with Beth Ann Morrison's installation space.

See! Awesome! Woohoo! Artstars!

If you feel the need to just see the highlights of my part of the show, feel free to come by my apartment...because there's now a lot of framed art up in my entryway just in case anyone missed it at Spattered Columns.  Or if you did see it, but just miss it, and want to spend some more time with pretty dirty pictures.

Four and a half hours

That's how long "Boris Godunov" is, including intermissions.  Longer than "Lawrence of Arabia", longer than I don't know what...long enough to miss the incredible hail storm that hit Brooklyn...long...but luckily, it's fantastic.  Your back may hurt, your legs may be stiff, but the drama keeps you going, interspersed with catchy little Russian folk tunes,  and the singing was wonderful.  Although the standing ovations went not necessarily to those that deserved it, mostly because of people's resounding bravos for a 9 year-old kid in the show that was a bit off key, but he was like 9, and it was way past his bedtime.  But it was great.  Not one of the operas that I leave the Met humming to myself wishing I could grow up and be a diva, but one where I had to work not to shed a tear at Boris's death aria.  Not much comedy, and at no time did Moose and Squirrel make an appearance.

Yeah! Opera season has started!

Although I do have one real reservation...the people I was surrounded by I pray are not subscribers.  I don't want to spend the whole season surrounded by them...to my left, a man who excitedly conducts while he sings under his breathe, to the right an elderly gentleman who reeked of piss.  Please, please, please, don't make me sit with them every opera.  Please.  I miss the grumpy old Russian couple I had last year...

sell-out

I love my gym, for real, I do.  They had a series of contests recently in celebration of their 21st birthday and I won tickets to "American Idiot".  Not that it's something I've ever wanted to see, but hey, free tickets! Right?

Let me start this again.  I am not a huge Green Day fan.  I wouldn't say that I actively hate Green Day, but I've never bought an album, I've never jumped up and down at the prospect of seeing them in concert (even in high school when even though I never bought anything of theirs at least I thought they were good)...but how bad could it be? American Idiot, people seem to love it...it's been on Broadway forever...

I've never been so pissed off in my life.  Green Day, you wanna see suburban-raised angst? I got yours right here.  I've never been so insulted.  It more than mocked my entire teenage years and young adulthood, it trivialized it.  Yeah, I grew up in the 'burbs, I wore grunge clothes, and I listened to hardcore, alternative music, and I went to art school and then moved to the city with a big dream, and I may not be the huge artstar that I will be some day.  But I sure as hell didn't sell out in the process.  And neither did 99% of my friends.

The whole show follows 3 friends, who want to go off to the city and start a band...1 never leaves cause he knocks up his girlfriend, 1 gets to the city and hears the call of patriotism and joins the military, and the other left to his own devices becomes a smack head.  They never played a single song as a "band".  And in the end, they all give up and go home, one (who never left) without his new family cause his girlfriend and baby left him, the other angry and without a leg from the war, and the third, just a failure. And their other friends all show up in suites and tailored skirts because they've all sold out and joined the mainstream. And everyone reunites at home and makes up and is happy again.

Cause that's it, we're all losers, huh Green Day? We're all strung out failures at life? Forget your dreams, go back to you parents' basement and you'll still have music at least, right?  Fuck you.

I have no problem with rockstars making it big, getting famous, and making buckets of money.  That's the dream.  That's why we all want it- buckets of money.  I have a problem when after they've gotten famous, and made their fortunes, they then turn around and sell out by trivializing the people that got them there.  Sitting in an audience of people my parents' age as they clap along to this farce of my life.  How would they have felt if 'Hair' had come out in the 80s? 20 years after the actual cultural movement, trivialized, and basically called your entire generation nothing but burned out hippies that would never amount to anything?  This is how if feels to have your revolution pandered to tourists who don't even know better than to give a mindless show with mediocre singing a standing ovation.

In the end it was worth every penny.  And I have given Green Day exactly as much money as they deserved over the years.  You guys had better had made enough money to support your lifestyle for the rest of time, cause this is it.  Every fan that you had, that's seen this piece of shit, is one more fan that you just lost.  Enjoy it, who's the loser now?