Saturday, July 29, 2006

Street Skills

I'm a big fan of street art. There's just something about the idea of a renegade artist sneaking around in the middle of the night, risking arrest to drop these beauty bombs in the most brazen places you can imagine- on billboards, highway overpasses, street signs- all for the sake of nicing up our world. Ok, I may be romaticizing what they do just a tad bit (imagine that). Their actions aren't entirely selfless, I realize. Most of them get off on the risk, and they gain a lot of street cred from their peers for their exploits. And even if it's only a code name that gets all the glory, they must enjoy the hell out of the notoriety that's generated when they pull off a particularly bold installation.

Banksy in particular has always fascinated me. In fact, it was my interest in Banksy that really sparked my desire to learn more about street art. Well, that's not entirely true- I don't think anyone with an appreciation for beauty can live in a city as rich in mural art as San Francisco without developing a bit of a passion for these types of things. But there is something so playful about Banksy's work, in spite of its often scathing social commentary, that is just really amazing. He always incorporates the surroundings in his pieces, and chooses his settings carefully for maximum effect.

I started following his career when The Wooster Collective gleefully reported that Banksy had pulled of yet another brilliant prank in the Brooklyn Museum. I guess he figured if the art world wouldn't come to the streets, he would take the streets to them. He took it to the next level though, in my opinion, when he graced the security barrier separating the occupied territories in Palestine from Israel with these works.

So it's no wonder that one of the few star struck moments I've had since moving to LA had nothing to do with a celebrity. A couple of months ago my roommate and I went off in search of a decent pedicure in our neighborhood. Well, the pedicure we found was shite, but it was well worth the trip when we stepped out of our car and found that we had parked alongside the first original Banksy I had ever seen in person. It was on an unassuming little stretch of wall outside a theater- a stencil of a cleaning woman bushing some dust under a curtain revealing the brick wall behind- and I quickly took an opportunity to snap a photo with my phone. It's been the wallpaper on my cell ever since, and I show it to everyone who shows the faintest glimmer of interest in hearing about the artist.

I was skimming The Wooster Collective again today when I came across this vid of Perry Farrell interviewing Shepard Fairey. Fairey is another one of those street artists that has gained no small amount of fame through his OBEY pieces (San Franciscans and Angelenos know them well, and have seen local versions of almost every variation Fairey has created since he began with a stencil of Andre the Giant back in the day). Fairey and Farrell hit the streets of LA together in Part 2 of the interview to see a couple of Banksy works, including the one with which I'm now so familiar. It's a short interview, but kinda cool to see Farrell and Fairey geek out about Banksy as much as I do.

And it got me jazzed again about a photo blog project I want to get off the ground detailing some of the amazing street art on display here in Los Angeles, and back home in SF. As soon as I find a camera phone good enough (I just can't bring myself to buy a digital cam) I hope to launch it. Not holding my breath, obviously, since we can already only find the time to give the Ghost love every once in a while, but I think it would be a fun project and something to get me out of the house sometimes.

In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled- we live in a great state to see some of the best and brightest giving it away for free on the side of a theater near you.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Some posts need no introduction

But if this post had one, it would be the Comments section of Jess' 7/20/06 post. Greg, we see your Meat and 3, and raise you... The Fried Jeffro:



Megaprops to Zaxxon for this lovely realization of the battered & fried Jeffro.

The 'Bu

Ok, so how this managed to escape our attention for this long is beyond me, but let's not dwell on that. The important thing is that we know about it now. The 'Bu has it all-- ninjas, asian dudes in blond wigs, a very bad squirrel named Frazzles, rampant drug use, and a blatant disregard for the standards of good taste- basically everything that we hold dear. Episode 1 is required viewing, but if you are able to stop there we really need to re-examine our friendship. GLASSES ON!!! (Thanks, Jeff, you rock. And I mean that in the purest Scorpions circa 1984 way possible. And yes, I realize that with that statement I just took a huge lead in the geekathon.)

Oh, and also noteworthy is that our dear friend Brownhole has joined the bloggeratzzi (yeah, I just made that word up, you got a problem with it?). How's that goiter doing, Brova?

Thursday, July 20, 2006

So you complain that we don't post enough?

I decided that since my creative juices have run a bit dry of late, and since my uber-creative friends who happen to also have tons of time on their hands refuse to post on GTG for reasons disclosed below (and yes, that is the royal "their," I do have a particular person in mind here), I'm just going to post IM conversations that Stef and I have. Oh, look! Here's one now!

jess: so, jeffro says gtg is a vagina blog
jess: which got me thinking, if your vagina had a blog, what would you call it?
Stef: jeffro's a vagina boy
Stef: if my vagina had a blog i'd call it jeffro

Wow. Now wasn't that easy? I feel entertained. How bout you?

UPDATE: Jeffro now claims he was misquoted-- that vaginablog is actually one word, not two. I apologize.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

A pirate's life for me

Ok, so I'm off to camp! Yay, camp! Even more fun when it's pirate camp. Beats the hell out of Camp Okoneechee, my childhood yearly torment involving archery and a concentration in the macaroni arts.

You may remember that Stefbot and I have quite a history of plundering under our belts, starting with our 30th birthday celebration when we rounded up a motley crew of scurvy dogs and sailed a houseboat under the old skull and crossbones, terrorizing everyone in our wake. We followed that excursion by boarding and plundering the Love Parade of 2005, flag held high. There was some resistance when we had our way with the porn palace float (mostly because there's only so many times you can hear "A Pirate Says Arrrr" and "Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum," even on a good sound system, without getting a bit testy).

Now that we're seasoned, salty scoundrels, I think we're quite qualified to act as pirate camp counselors. Therefore I'm offering our services to those less versed in the pirate arts. Should any questions arise over the weekend involving the proper use of lard, or any folks need medical attention for a case of scurvy (the symptoms of which, by the way, closely resemble that of your common hangover), we are the wenches to call.

And, as chance would have it, my boyfriend Johnny (shown right enjoying a tasty carribean spliff) has a new movie opening this weekend. He also enjoys dressing up as a pirate, which really keeps the spice in our relationship, if you know what I mean. So if you can't make it to pirate camp you can at least get in the spirit.

Lemme hear ya say arrrrrrr.