Tuesday, January 30, 2007


Diligence in Procrastination



I thought it was best to contribute to the blog before my privileges to this grand micro-bit of eternal digital ether were revoked. And I must apoligize to those who may occasionally happen upon this site for my utter disregsard to it's upkeep. Though it is not if the entire Grant. St. works have been silenced, slight text has been published, (quite independantly,) and more grand works of the textile, visual nature have been had. Maybe soon we'll launch to a more commercial spot as to poison your minds, and grab your almighty dolla. Until then...

My 2006 Albums of the Year:

8. Headlights: Kill Them with Kindness- All over the map in a fresh mint sort of way.

7. Alejandro Escovedo: The Boxing Mirror- Nick Cave, Ry Cooder, Lou Reed, John Cale, but mostly Escovedo.

6. Neko Case: Fox Confessor Brings the Flood- Commandingly Seductive, instantly Classic.

5. King Crimson: Collectable King Crimson Vol. 1- Maybe Fripp's new marketing plan, but anyway these 2 shows from '74, showcase an ultra-tight outfit.

4. Bob Dylan: Modern Times: When you consider the bulk of contemporary music's utter fodder, how can you deny this release? The Master has spoken.

3. Built to Spill: You in Reverse: Middle age guys who appreciate intricate, interesting rock & roll song structure, an unbeatable combination.

2. Brian Eno/ David Byrne: My Life in the Bush of Ghosts- An entire side of bonus material to this masterpiece!? Indeed. The expanded liner notes will change your conception of modern popular music.

1. Tom Waits: Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards

Here's to Being Active...

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


In The Bucolic Trappings of the Neurocranium


What is our obligation to our mission and purpose? Wealth, security, cultural relevance. Maybe Charlie Parker on the turntable? If Joseph Addison were alive today! Would he stop the senseless slaughter of the African elephant? Why not Democracy as a fundamentalist movement? Extremist fart gags and all. Instead let us enjoy the self perpetuating climate time bomb, and with proper table setting: a radiant juice freshly squeezed from political and ecionomic forces, as there will be no room for existentialism tonight my nihilist friend, only rational empiricism with lemon grass. A pilaf with a hint of tumeric, accompanied by a suspension of ethical, and rational knowledge, and yes a tartare will be in high order. A blood orange sorbet will follow, served in a reduction of life's priorities. It's very essence causes images of immortality, and at times, thoughts of exceptionalism.

My Current Rotation:

Modest Mouse: This is a long drive for someone with nothing to
to think about

Stephan Stills: Manassas

Syd Barrett: Barrett

Soft Machine: Volume Two

Beausoleil: Cajunization Blues

Friday, August 04, 2006


Transcript from a Dream had in Recent Restless Sleep


Upon arriving home I found that the screen door had been ripped open and my front door pryed ajar. Entering I saw thin flannel nightgowns hanging from the door jams, and at once I registered the familiar prescence of a ghost from day's past, whom may have returned in the night, with a spare key she may have hidden. But this was not to be, for upon further inspection there were bloated duffels of clothes scattered about, and various other odd wares. The drawers in my studio had been rifled through, and there were mounds of large ash deposited at various points on the floor. Then there was a knock at the front door, and who stood there was but a young couple that were close freinds. After explaining they had come over for a nightcap, I proceeded to expound upon my dilema. The three of us sat on the larger sofa, and she unrobed. As she sat completly nude between us, he began to investigate her vaginal area with great interest, and I, becoming quite uncomfortable, finally retired to sleep.

When I awoke my young acquaintances had already departed, though there a strange congregation of people on the porch. I walked outside as to inquire about the invasion and sustained damage, when an elderly woman approached me. She explained that she had rented the upstairs apartment, but as there was 18 pople in her family, each basically of a different ethnic origin, and with not nearly enough room, she called the local ombudsman, whom then instructed her to break into my house to temporarily store their possibles. She convinced me to board her caravan so we could proced to the shopping center, where she would replace what was broken. On this journey I listened to each of their unremarkable transcient stories, and of course how they all shared the same mother, and such.

Reaching the galleria, I realized that I should be working, and after much labor I procured a cell phone to call out. The connection was terrible, and at the concierge desk was a man barely able to mutter broken English. He repeated my name, and that is all that I know. The link broke, and there was no other ringtone to be had. I gave back the device, and left to hang out at an AllTell kiosk, eventually convincing someone to let me make a call on their phone, and still no service. In doing this I became estranged from my present company entirely.

Then two good buddies appeared and invited me on a deep sea excursion. Now on a 30' charter boat with someone landing a substantial fish, I grabbed a priest, that was in actuality the be-good stick kept within my foyer. The fish began to surface, and at once a collective roar was cast over the vessel as the monster reared itself, it resembled a Brontosaurus with it's long neck, and smallish head. As the catch neared boatside there was then a firm grasp on my right shoulder. It was that moment I realized I was probably dreaming. I turned to my right to embrace that familiar, ghostly prescence I had anticipated before, but found nothing as I fell into a bottomles void.

(2:40am 8.4.06)

The bird you see above, smashed into my kitchen window right after I had stepped out to scratch down these thoughts about my dream, when I came back to grab my notes, there it lie. First such circumstance in 8 years of living here. It received a majestic burial.

My Current Rotation:

Daevid Allen: Banana Moon

Adrian Belew: Side 3 (God Bless You Ken Latchney, may you gig eternal)

Drive By Truckers: A Blessing and a Curse

Gong: You

Velvet Underground: VU

Wednesday, June 28, 2006




Cosmology and the Creative Global Economic

What is humanity's place in the totality of the universe, and what is the responsibility of the visual, non-verbal interpreter? Maybe innovation within the realms of a recognisable discipline, or resisting the aesthetic decree, to a degree that is none too esoteric. So heave away, before you find yourself asleep at shore, for at the heart of all that matters lies contribution. Let us all share the tarry as time is perennialy short. Gather your favorite totems and celebrate the Summer solstice.
The work on oak board is the resurgance of a form abandoned over a year ago. "If You See Her Say Hello" (10x8, goache & India ink on gesso) , named after a tune by Bob Dylan, was for J. Bauer's campsite, as it is a weather proof work of art, engulfed in varnish, and hung amoung the standing timber. The spot was named for his dog Marley (Marley's Bluff), as she had recently passed on. It is by far the most representational work in the series, all on board, typically mahogany, and coated with varnish, but none so well preserved as this one.


Current Rotation:

1. Mason Jennings: Boneclouds
2. Jeff Buckley: Grace
3. Adrain Belew: Side 3
4. Ollabelle
5. Neil Young: Living with War

Monday, May 15, 2006


The Midnight Shoppers
Carousing through the ether, gliding almost effortlessly amongst the manifestos, and other such fodder. Nothing remains hidden from these midnight shoppers of insight, and assorted intellect. They ruthlessly scrutinize the material trappings of modern society, pushing it's very membrane to the point of exhaustion, or quite possibly rupture. Brokering in a currency that transcends the inflationary trend of our uncertain economic delirium, maybe even a little green rosetta. The midnight shoppers do not care of bargains had, or receipt of purchase, for it is when you slumber that they are on quantitative terms. Fueled by a bipartisan resolution to be the scourge of contemporary cerebration. May you one day break bread with them.
The image above was originaly to be the last in a series of small abstractions, (untitled, 5.5.05, gesso & goache on oak board, covered with spar varvish, 8"x6"). They have recently been revived with a new vigor, with an extension of the atomosheric quality aspect that got me going on these in the first place. This was the only untitled piece in the series, the rest being named after obscure song titles. And by the way...
My Current Rotation:
Chunga's Revenge: Frank Zappa
Legion of Mary: The Jerry Garcia Collection Vol. 1
Andrian Belew: Side 2
Genesis: Nursery Cryme
Phil Manzanera: guitarissimo

Friday, March 24, 2006


The Custom Concern for the People:

Trying to be a literate American in a multicultural democracy, though reinforcing the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, we try to celebrate this vernacular equinox even if we are feeling a bit autumnal.






An article of essential consideration: "The State of the News Media 2006", the Project for Excellence in Jornalism.

The new Grant St. Apologetics contend the recent statement, that Inspiration is "beyond the realm of calculated intention", (The Observer; 3.12.06). We say it is no more than motivation. Devotion to your craft will at times yield unintelligable aspects of inner being, and, as any non-verbal expression is already indeed inspired. As warnings rise over rising seas and ballooning arses, yet there is hope...

My Current Rotation:

The Derek Trucks Band: Songlines
Lou Reed/ John Cale: Songs for Drella
Rachel's: Selenography
Keller Williams: Loop
Tom Waits: Bone Machine

Monday, February 27, 2006




Concrete Details Left Ambiguous


The very first non-objective, or abstract piece, india ink and designer's goache, 05.02.04. No symbolism, just an examination of modernist expression, a conveyance of movement, rural communique, rudimentary color field painting.



Monday, January 30, 2006


Grant St. Press as Critical Theory


When recently asked why do I exhibit work that can be easily pirated, and thus this led to the issue of why create a web log at all (?),

A: I replied I do not consider my abstractions to be worthy of covet, especially in the monetarial sense. My foremost purpose is to alter the consideration of the viewer, to let them exist for a moment outside the mundane. This site also serves an aperture for the overflow, allowing all to join in on the grand paradigm. The view is not cynical, it is straightforward critique, with an unbaised eye. Hoping for change.

On to the Velvets, (my current rotation);

"Peel Slowly and See" is one of the most rewarding listens I've ever experienced, being somewhat of a naivete of their music, I now have found myself fully immersed, trying to absorb a shard of the dimension the Velvet Underground occupied for the short time they were together. They defy genre, and are of the anvil that modern rock was forged, (See Mr. Rain take 1, on Disc 3, with some serious surrealistic viola) . The 5 disc box set contains their first four albums with outtakes and live material, and a disc of their original rehearsals at John Cales loft. And given today, when recorded music is so choreographed and rehearsed to acheive the success of the single, to hear this music evolve in a single session of takes on the first disc is incredibly archealogic, and Lou Reed's New York City street savy lyrics provide the frosting to this euphonious cake. This is without a doubt very important music, and the appendage must be the 3 disc "Quine tapes", live recordings from 1969. Considered by many, the best quality live material recorded for mass comsumption. Bon Apetite.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006


Sharpening Occam's Razor, and More Honestly the Principle of Parismony


The American ideal can be summerized in two films, "The Big Labowski", and "Being John Malcovich".
I have sent Kim Jong il some G Love and Special Sauce, specifically " Yea, it's that Easy", I beleive it will lead to a united nuclear roundtable.
The work is entitled "Judgement Day, or the End of the Myth". India ink, and designer's goache, konstructed in August 2004, a continuation of the emptying of the vault. V.S.O.P. goache.

Saturday, December 31, 2005

New Year's Eve, or the Disambiguation of the Old Calendarists:


May we all experience the rebirth, so symbolic of the holiday upon us, both individually, and collectively. There is much to ruminate, though in time it's assembled matter will provide the paving stones on the road to tomorrow. And tonight as we ingest popular media's culmination of the last year of civilization, keep in mind, the world is what you make it. So here's to the promise of a productive year ahead.

Though downloads are explodingly popular, the generously textured canvas that was this year's music scene did little to alleviate sagging L.P. sales, and in my eyes, some of the best output this year consisted of rehashed material.

Best Releases of 2005:

5. Neil Young; Prarie Wind
4. White Stripes; Get Behind Me Satan
3. Fionna Apple; Extraordinary Machine
2. Bob Dylan; The Bootleg Series Vol. 7
1. Crimson Jazz Trio; King Crimson Songbook Vol.1

Honorable Mention:
Sun Kil Moon; Tiny Cities
Mars Volta; Frances the Mute
Phish; New Year's Eve 1995

Wednesday, December 21, 2005


Suspending Disbelief in the Post Critical Era


The "Monolith Manuscripts" have been completed, the result of some prolific Friday night sessions that began back in October, (see last entry). The multi media work on paper above, Anthropomorphic Starfish, was a direct inspiration from those assemblies, though the piece is usually accompanied by various vocal noises.
The Manuscripts were originaly conceived during a weekend's camp on a plateau littered with quarried stones, resembling various obelisks, which we proceeded to assemble into a monolith field. How these innate objects took on such stature with the slightest of manipulation was indeed symbolic, and inspirational. Though the Manuscript itself picked up some serious momentum come mid October, much was penned in the field. The result is craggy, and at time directionless, but in all, quite compelling. It will be published, in some form, on the internet, not here, but on it's own site eventually. Foremost it demonstrated that the creative lunacy of the moment can be manifested into a plausible document. A new project is already in the works.
Mass Media Culture to coin a phrase is an oxymoron, the decent guitar solo has virtually dissapeared in today's music, and we harness nature religiously. Does the answer lie within Beethoven's bones, or in some ancient Mayan mural, the Dead Sea scrolls? It not only is the solstice, but also Frank Zappa's bithday (1940), celebrate accordingly. I suggest pinion.

Current Listening:

Japancakes: If I Could See Dallas
Velvet Underground: Peel Slowly and See
Modest Mouse: The Fruit That Ate Itself
Godspeed You Black Emporer!: Lift Yr. Skinny Fists Like Antannae to Heaven
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: Howl

Friday, December 02, 2005


A Slice of A Dabble in Verbal Babble...Live in the Studio with the Music Psycho


Maggie went to Georgia, and Marley went to the great beyond,
the recollections of those events, are not extremely fond.
We move forward in the wrong direction, until we get things right.
It doesn't happen every day, it happens overnight.
The window reveals an image of solitude and peace, upon which we gaze for solutions to our tumultuous world of struggle.
Walk on brother, keep on moving forward in your own direction, even when the others say it's wrong (or left).
Staring out the window, for hours and hours, with no apparent solution....we walk to the chemist's locker to fix an elixir to cure the confusion......
Now it's all becoming unclear to me, the best way to face reality,
It's going to happen anyway, don't clutter the path with karma.

Autumn's pith has finally been revealed, and now December's shag has found us. Our crutch is our crippled vocabulary.
Dammit! I forgot the "D" thing again. It's a "D" chord with life and emotion. I meant to bring it from the archives, but the safe wasn't open today.

Soon you will see that the power of "D" can overtake the strongest of minds and cause harmonious cohabitation amongst adversaries, forcing love upon the unloving, like an ant devouring your favorite aunt.YUMMM!

You shant and can't rant!

J. Bauer



Thursday, December 01, 2005


Baby You've Lost That Nerve Growth Factor
The metaphorical piece above is titled "11". It is a page from a ficticious anatomy book, highlighting the shortcoming's of humanity. The thumb and chin represent the clumsiness of man, while the clever and saddle, gunstock denote the harnessing of nature for our benefit. Pen and Ink, 8x12, composed in March of 2004. A fit for any puritan holiday celebration, or related curiosa.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

The Drake Equation, Hubble's Theory, Bauer's Postulate, and Other Significant Mantras of the Cirque du Jour

Reading an article about sick building syndrome, and how it may be related to Infrasounds, I stumbled onto the elephant, and their mysterious social circles. These creatures host greeting parties, laugh to express joy, may possess some form of E.S.P. to communicate to each other, and have more emotional range than most human beings.
The infrasound: a sound with a frequency too low to be detected by the human ear, often occured naturally from ocean waves, avalanches, earthquakes, volcanoes and meteors. The sound itself is known to cause feelings of apprehension and fear without conciously knowing. It it can at times make people feel vaguely that superntural events are taking place, and as you may already know certain animals, and media conglomerates already exploit it's very boundries. Living life on life's terms, but keeping it a little loose.
The explotation of the instant gratification of today's way of life is already passe, though what is not, is the sensation of downloadable music. Acknowledging the fact that there is no degredation of quality in copying digitel music, which seperates it from any other method of reproduction, the abandonment of the album is troublesome. (Many main stream artists excluded) The release, or album desires a listen in it's entirety. The emotional peaks and valleys of song arrangement, the anticipation. Though very few still touch stylus to vinyl these days, or know what a good side is, for it is a time when synthesizers virtually mimic the process of playing every instrument. To pick and choose cuts so easily deflates the entire industry, as you have taken the mystery out of the artist's latest composition, the album. Plus whatever happened to these arguments of analog warmth, or the frequency cutoff and quantization noise of digital music? What is the expected lifetime of our civilization?

Current Obsession: The Phish feast @ 7:00 pm Sirius Radio; Jam On Ch. #17
Too Groovy to effectively dig upon.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Stony Flagella In The Era Of Fossilized Conjugation

1. Theoretical Impinging Inertia: the passing of creative Chi though direct inspiration. Artisanal currency. Not wholly organic, (or wooly for that matter), but possibly with synthetic, or modified addititives. Pragmatic, woolly, thinking, lacking bitter malady, though the brilliant crimson of Autumn's maples has faded, and the morning wakes bearded with frost. A salve for modern media's promotion of anti-intellectualism.

Album in Review:
Extraordinary Machine/Fiona Apple: Another contemporary masterpiece for Fiona Apple. She is the sultry interpretation of Nina Simone woven to a Post-Modern Tom Waits riff machine.