“The laws of a gentleman, like most, are at times meant to be broken and in varying degrees.”

-Craig Arthur von Schroeder

 
 
Original Columm by Craig Arthur von Schroeder of CMMP for Paradigm Magazine
 
Soccer has seventeen rules, or “laws;” one of them instructs that outfield players cannot use their hands. Nevertheless, the breaking of this rule in the 1982 World Cup by Diego Maradona won the game for his country, crushed the lives of many Englishmen and eventually catapulted Argentina to cup glory. This rule breaking has been celebrated the world over, and Maradona dubbed the handball in the goal area as “the hand of God.”
 
Dressing well is also governed by laws. There are inummerable “rules” about what is the correct way to wear garments, matching of color, etc. And, like the hand of God, at times the conscious breaking of the rules becomes the stuff of legend. Take for instance the wide lapels on almost all of Tom Ford’s men’s suit jackets; they are large and out of proportion with the rest of the garment, and likely with its eventual wearer’s body Yet, this breaking of the rule is Tom Ford’s celebrated and lucrative “style.” So much for adhering to rules.
 
In the coming weeks and months, I will be your humble referee on the “Laws of the Game” – essentially outlining what you should know to dress your best … and I want to emphasize “your” best. The goal of this column is to help you understand convention and how to circumvent it to develop your own style. I will also delve into areas of style other than clothing, including cars, travel and women. The laws of a gentleman, like most, are at times meant to be broken and in varying degrees.
 
Let the game begin.
 
 

“Even though I have friends, family and people around me, I still feel a certain level of disconnect and loneliness. I know I spend a lot more time alone than with others, and that’s not really a bad thing.”

-Get Up

 
 
 
Introduction by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
Interview & Photographsy by Theo Constantinou
 
 
 
Staring at a computer screen dazed and exploring levels of media, I see a thin, tall, obelisk-like horse painted in red on a stone wall. The kicker is the bandit couple entangled in a punk-rockabilly tango. Donning various colors, this couple may be seen from Pennsylvania to California. The dancers are blurred on the edges where the spray paint bled, but their movement is surprisingly real. Combined with other street art, or on its own, Get Up’s designs are more than promotions for his music, but a lively message to stay free. A Philly native, it’s not surprising that my friend texted me a sample of Get Up’s art used as the backdrop in the DJ booth of a Philly dance party. Stacks of records, phonograph boom boxes, colorful dancers, and a phrase like “Get Up” is enough to get you to wake up. Fighting the good fight against apathy, or a simply lame-ass life style, Get Up aspires to demonstrate life lived passionately. Producing conscious graffiti, or dropping free canvases while being an active musician with a home on the move only amplifies the concept of life unfettered.
 
 
 
I had written down this quote by Thomas Wolfe, “The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, peculiar to myself and to a few other solitary men, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence.” Do you think that loneliness is the central and inevitable fact of human existence?
 
I would agree somewhat; I can only speak for myself. Even though I have friends, family and people around me, I still feel a certain level of disconnect and loneliness. I know I spend a lot more time alone than with others, and that’s not really a bad thing.
 

 
To continue off of my last question, Thomas Wolfe wrote a novel called You Can’t Go Home Again. Just the title of that novel made me curious to hear your thoughts on home and what you believe to be home. When we were walking around the city you spoke to me of your homelessness. Since you are without a real home are you searching for a place to call home or will you always consider yourself to be someone who is searching for ‘home?’
 
Home, to me, would be a place where you are fully accepted and welcome. For me, Philly is home even though I’ve been living in SF for six years. I love it out there and wouldn’t want to live anywhere else as of now. Although I have a certain distaste for Philly, and the way a lot of people act there, it’s still the place I know best and have most of my family and friends at.
 

 
It was Hendrix who said, “I just hate to be in one corner. I hate to be put as only a guitar player, or either only as a songwriter, or only as a tap dancer. I like to move around.” You started making music, then created your now widely recognized stencils to promote your music. But those images have taken on a larger life than the music. Do you feel that you are stuck in one corner or, is there room for both of the art and music to stand separately as respected art-forms?
 
I believe there’s plenty of room for both. I’ve been playing lots of parties and, I often wind up painting at the same parties. I also usually do music at my art shows; I’ve been into art/design and music since as long as I can remember. That whole being lonely thing has a big part in that.
 

 

 
This excerpt was taken from a very powerful article I just recently read on Vice … ‘Being a Kenyan Graffiti Artist Takes Balls‘
 
Boniface Mwangi is a Kenyan photojournalist who likes messing with politicians. He made a name for himself photographing Kenya’s post-election violence in 2008, later winning the CNN Photojournalist of the Year award. He’s been arrested and had his cameras broken on several occasions, and he was even banned from Facebook, purportedly for being too politically outspoken.
 
Now Mwangi’s moved on to graffiti to challenge the current regime, tribal politics, and a host of other grievances including land grabbing, famine, and IDP resettlement. He’s hired a crew to paint 50 political murals across the country’s poorest areas in the run-up to this year’s elections. It’s illegal to do this, but Mwangi doesn’t really care.
 
“The guys in power have been raping this country for the last 49 years. We speak from the flesh. We want to tell the story of Kenya. You can’t do 49 years with a photo, but you can with graffiti,” he said …… Kenya is hurting for professional graffiti artists, and painting illegal after-hours murals with dozens of people involved is complicated at best. But Mwangi’s confident the project will succeed anyway. “What’s the worst they can do?” he says. “Arrest us? We’re not worrying about the project. Worrying about it will stop it from happening.”
 
That is pretty powerful that Boniface Mwangi is willing to stop at nothing to get his message across Kenya. Quite a bit different than some of the work I see on the streets here in the US. Why do you think art, specifically graffiti, is able to change the way people see social events?
 
I think people view political graffiti as a strong message because they know it’s coming from a real person rather than a corporation or advertisement. Also, when you know someone risked getting arrested, or even worse in some countries, to make a statement, it’s going to be more powerful.
 

 
There is that one wheatpaste that features your name that you are not affiliated with. Is it your personal belief that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and, is there a way for others to imitate work respectfully and tastefully without it being a ‘blatant’ rip off?
 
The piece I believe you’re talking about, I don’t really care about. If people know my work, they know it’s not my style. I have been ripped off and imitated, and yeah it’s flattering I guess; I’m certainly not the first or last person to make stencils and I encourage more people to do so. I’m just having fun with an art form that I was attracted to and trying to put my own style into it.
 

 
 

“All of my cigarettes are soaked in gin except half of one. I break the stalk halfway loosing precious leaves in the urgency of it and the last few burn mid-air as my flame hits the handicapped nub.”

-Adria Leeper-Sullivan

 
 
 
Original Photographs by Christopher Velez for Paradigm Magazine
 
Essay by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
 
 

 
It’s one of those days when I wake up to the memory of my parents fighting.
 
(The smoke in the hallway reminds me of my high school girlfriend’s trailer that had windows smothered with the branches of a Japanese maple.)
 
I feel a sting in my throat as I sit up and cough phlegm onto the carpet. I leave it to soak in and slide into a pair of greasy jeans that smell like dog shit. I lost my belt so my boxers sit an inch above the waistline of my denim marauders.
 
(My concave chest cups a scar from the day that my buddies and I took up armbands and ripped t-shirts at the age of twelve because of all those 80’s coming of age films like Coppola’s Outsiders. I had jumped through a church window.)
 
I barely cover my branded skin with a white stained v-neck and take to the streets. The light screams at the veins in my eyes and they tighten like they’re anxious. My nose picks up the citrus-like zing of sweat evaporating off of protestors filling up the center of the city. As they press against me I catch a trolley to a park at the city limits that is a mile away from some lake.
 
Walking, I dig painstakingly through my pockets; all of my cigarettes are soaked in gin except half of one. I break the stalk halfway loosing precious leaves in the urgency of it and the last few burn mid-air as my flame hits the handicapped nub.
 
I stare at the lake and think of how inspirational it is as an instance of natural beauty…even after that I could only piss in it.
 
 

 
 

“Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts and murders itself. There was never a democracy that did not commit suicide.”

-John Adams

 
 
Editorial by C.A. Stephens for Paradigm Magazine & Original Artwork by Aniella Ernández
 
 
 
 
The green divide between the haves and have-nots in the United States grows wider by the day, putting the country at risk of becoming what Jefferson called a suicidal democracy. As the chasm expands, citizens on both sides are at odds. Those in the exclusive one-percent bracket grow richer, while the impoverished, disenfranchised members of the phantom middle-class lose more. Resentment from both ends of the economic spectrum naturally follows.
 
Stagnant markets and concerns about America’s legacy as a world power spawn new economic policies and reforms…some only doing more damage. If anyone should doubt Jefferson’s warnings of a manic republic, they have only to look to the recent Occupy movement as an indication of the changing tide of ideas gripping the nation.
Those who must eke out an existence on the dregs left by society’s elite are frustrated; they demand not only a fair redistribution of wealth, but also a completely new definition of the American Dream. If either is possible it has yet to be seen. Still, as this happens, segments of the population are simply succumbing to an economic force over which they have no control. Through their desperation, they abdicate their freedoms to an emerging class of American aristocrats. Conversely, whether willfully revolutionary or acquiescent, neither segment is likely to see any significant change as the mobility ladder has gone rusty from lack of use.
 
The belief that hard work will lead to prosperity no longer applies as an entire generation of college graduates finds it increasingly difficult to secure work and even harder in those fields in which they specialized since many jobs have left our shores. Meanwhile, they are drowning in a sea of student loans at exorbitant interest rates, dooming them to a life of indebtedness to a few powerful banks, some of which are controlling nearly 56% of the nation’s wealth.
 
The green divide represents glaring inequalities in the American brand of democracy, and illustrates the difficulties that closing the gap presents. “Inequality threatens the ‘American Dream’ of social mobility – children doing better than their parents, the poor improving their lot through hard work,” according to a CBS article on the growing gap between rich and poor. The article goes on to say that “greater income inequality stifles upward mobility between generations, making it harder for talented and hardworking people to get the rewards they deserve.”
 
This gap threatens to undermine America’s ideas of success and equality. Getting one’s slice of the pie seems an astronomical feat as the poor get poorer and the rich, well richer, some with wealth that borders on the stuff of fantasy. Fantasy from the perspective of many Americans who cannot see beyond next week’s paycheck. The divide carves up regions and communities, and splits people up according to the bulge in their pockets. It creates a world in which only the rich and poor exist as polar opposites. There is little room for a middle-class.
 
During this campaign year, topics like unemployment, Obama Care, a limping economy and the growing number of poor in this country, especially among minority and immigrant groups are at the forefront of every debate. These topics speak to deeper issues such as a decline in so-called American values. Behind the rhetoric of values lies the ever-present value of the dollar. In this period of insecurity, it is difficult to evade the dollar’s hold. It permeates our society; we are beholden to it, encouraged to get more, be the best — We are Americans! However, it seems the almighty dollar is doing more to upset this perfect union than to unite it. Still, we Americans expect a standard of ourselves. Those standards determine our worth as Americans and demonstrate our superiority to the rest of the world and, more specifically our enemies, the very people that would benefit most from a meltdown in America’s free-market reactor.
 
One’s ability to be upwardly mobile was once a good indicator that he or she was living up to the American dream — American illusion. Coincidentally, we are not far behind Turkey and Mexico in the mobility scale. From the same CBS article, “The richest 10 percent earn an average of $93,000 — The poorest 10 percent earn an average of $5,800,” according to an Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development study covering two decades from 1985-2005.
 
The conviction that there is plenty to go around no longer holds true. Social mobility becomes a phrase more closely associated with an out-of-print social studies textbook than plausible. What hope is there in the future, if there is nothing to motivate us towards it? In the past, it was railroads, dams and the unifying spirit of patriotism that helped us to win two world wars and cement our foothold as the world power. What has changed? The America that was, seems dead or at least chronically impotent, struggling to maintain a faltering infrastructure worsened by a division of income and ideas concerning everything from healthcare to rising oil prices.
 
John Adams once said, “There are two ways to conquer and enslave a country. One is by the sword. The other is by debt.” If our current financial situation is a precursor of the continuation of America’s slow decline, why bother with higher education, building roads, or taxes? One may argue more radically, why bother with government at all if it does little to protect its people as promised. Was there some fine print we all missed?
 
There is nothing holding the two sides together beyond industry. The ninety-nine percent is nothing more than the largest service sector in history servicing the rich. With a gaping divide between rich and poor, a loss in connection is eminent. Marx describes this disconnect as “self-alienation” which in turn fosters resentment and class prejudice. With such a socio-economic canyon between rich and poor there is a no wonder the country cannot seem to write its course.
 
Eventually, as we have already begun to see with the Occupy movement here in the US, the austerity movements in Europe and the Arab spring, there is a shift in ideas taking place. Across the board, people are questioning the glaring hypocrisies that continue to facilitate an ever more powerful elite whilst undermining the rest of us. Similar questions have sparked revolutions.
 

 
If these rifts persist, our republic will experience a reversion to the feudal and caste systems of hierarchy seen throughout history. In every hierarchy, there are masters and slaves as Hegel discussed in his Master-Slave dialectic . Though we may see a growing reactionary spirit amongst those more volatile segments of the ninety-nine, there are still many that are willing to acquiesce to the status quo.
 
In response to the more dangerous segments of the populace, some in the higher echelons will tighten their hold, putting into effect policies that will make it impossible to rise above one’s status in this country, creating a permanent under-class as seen in pre-revolutionary France and Soviet Russia. The rich will continue to control the means and capital stowing them away safely in their penthouses high above the stench of poverty choking their co-citizens. This leads away from democracy and becomes something more akin to an oligarchic society. Adams echoed the sentiments of Jefferson when he said, “Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts and murders itself. There was never a democracy that did not commit suicide.” At our present rate, this forecast seems more eminent than probable.
 
“About two-thirds of the public now believes there are strong conflicts between the rich and poor in America, making class a likelier source of tension than traditional flash points of race or nationality,” according to a Washing Post article on a study conducted by the Pew Research Center Fund. Conflicts have always existed between the wealthy and the poor, but recently, as awareness of the issues contributing to this gap grows so does the demand for immediate change.
 
In this age of information and Direct Messages, the former fault-lines of race and religion become after thoughts, but eventually so does right and wrong. People are looking for someone to blame, each side levying complaints towards the other finding scapegoats and causes to rally behind, to excuse or explain away their misery or disapproval (take the Tea Party movement). Our problems as a nation though may have begun at the very start: a social experiment not fully worked out, ahead of its time, and not ready to live up to its lofty aims.
 
A Bloomberg report warns if the divide is left unchecked “a widening gap between rich and poor is reshaping the U.S. economy, leaving it more vulnerable to recurring financial crises and less likely to generate enduring expansions.” What we know as capitalism will devolve creating less opportunities, our economy will contract and a limited economy ultimately hurts the nation. America will go stale and become vulnerable to attack from outside and within leaving us open to a Roman style collapse.
Is our future that bleak? Imbedded in the genetic code of every American is a resiliency that has carried us through the worse times in our history. It may be possible to survive this green divide, but only if we are fully aware of its dangers and not passively waiting for things to get better.
 
There is never quite an even balance of power or wealth. The communist thought so, so have others, but history shows us the contrary. Society is invariably lopsided: there will always be a few on top and many on the bottom. Social inequality is society’s form of natural selection. Still, if the nation is to survive, new blood is required to refresh this balance. Knowing one has a chance to succeed, to rise above his or her lot makes productive nations and emboldens the human spirit. Take this away and despair sets in, umbrage soon follows and riots break out.
 
The success ladder may be shaky, but there are other ways to climb. Sometimes simply by putting out one’s hand and pulling up his fellow man. We have it in us to bridge the gap, however wide. If we can do this, then perhaps this republic, though still imperfect, will draw closer to a full realization of its American dream.
 
 

I AIN’T GOT NO WINGS

For sure I can fly but I’m done doing it. Ain’t got no wings like an
owls, or night vision capabilities to deliberately see through the black.
Our eyes just don’t work like that. I’ve got mad skills though, I’m just
using them gingerly these days– there’s a hook but you’ll have to find
it yourself- I’m too busy writing this thing- to actually act it out. I
pretend to be a guide at the New Museum, locating the conceit
behind each work, sharing particular concepts and theories for artmaking
intentions, to induce the audience into intensive listening,
and to help them see what might not be clear to an out-of-practice
eye. I purposely leave my notes on my desk, to flirt with the idea that
someone will steal from them. I’ll end up the chair of this-or-that
department. Take home molds of milk bottles and baby snap peas.
For art does not tell but it reveals. Tinkering away at an installation
before god gives up on us all.

“It is very important to me to document my memories. The past is prologue: it tells us where we were and can give us clues where we are going. I like to believe our emotional lives, our memories, extend beyond this world somehow. I have to believe that this spirit in us doesn’t just disappear, but I don’t believe art creates immortality; all art will one day be gone.”

-Jordan Sullivan

 
 
 
Introduction by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
Interview by Theo Constantinou & Images provided by Jordan Sullivan
 
 
 
Jordan Sullivan is an optimist. His images may display the raw and taboo aspects of the American backyard, but he, above all, captures the limitless. Couples mid kiss, or nude bodies obscured by an opal light-flare mix the edgy uncertainty of a moment with the absolute necessity of that moment. Life is filled with decisions we didn’t mean to make, but that we had to make in order to understand the difference between our primordial instincts and our adaptable responses to modern stimuli. That is not to say that his subjects are escalating their risk behavior to be spectacles, but that Jordan supports through body language, objects, or landscapes, the various emotional and physical responses that a plethora of individuals may experience. Jordan is a being that must inherently create; who must continually feed his most basic needs with the complex, articulate and deliberate methods of photography, writing and film. There is no word for it in the English language, but there exists in many cultures the concept of a universal “I,” or a common wholeness. Jordan Sullivan’s presence as an artist contributes to a universal and timeless experience; the human experience, that can dissolve sex, race, language, age and other often insignificant barriers embraced by our species.
 
 
 
I came across this book by Miguel Serrano, A Tale of Two Friendships: Herman Hesse & Carl Jung. He says, ” As with men it has always seemed to me that books have their own peculiar destinies. They go towards the people who are waiting for them and reach them at the right moment. They are made of living material and continue to cast light through the darkness long after the death of their authors.” Is there one book specifically that this quote resonates with for you and, do you agree with this quote?
 
I love that quote; I like looking at a relationship with a book, or an object, in the same light as a friendship between two people. I believe art is very much alive and, after it is made, the person who made it has no control over it. I think the book that will always stick with me is, The World Doesn’t End by Charles Simic. I discovered it when I was a teenager. It seemed to tie the entire world together in this way I understood: it haunted the fuck out of me.
 
When I met you in Manhattan last week, I had asked you to write something in my journal and this is what you wrote, “We were never free on the road, we never found California or your mothers ghost, just mirages and stolen landscapes. And all I was left with was the memory of you telling me we could live forever.” Do you think we can live forever, metaphorically? And I don’t personally belief we can live forever, maybe immortalize ourselves through photographs, art, journals, or passing on our own personal stories to those around us. How important is it for you personally, and artistically, to document your memories through images and words?
 
It is very important to me to document my memories. The past is prologue: it tells us where we were and can give us clues where we are going. I like to believe our emotional lives, our memories, extend beyond this world somehow. I have to believe that this spirit in us doesn’t just disappear, but I don’t believe art creates immortality; all art will one day be gone. The things we did will be forgotten by the next species or dug up and reinterpreted. An idea or a story passed on over and over may be the only shot we have of keeping ourselves around. It’s bleak but also sort of beautiful that we live this intense existence and then one day everything we are and, everything we made, will just be ruins, and then even those ruins will one day be gone. Who knows if our species will ever be totally forgotten, but the best dream I could have would be the one where I live forever.
 

 
Two weeks ago, I visited Dog Earned Books in San Francisco and picked up a copy of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. In the inside cover, there’s a small introduction written about Conrad which reads:
 
“Although his work won the admiration of critics, sales were small, and debts and poor health plagued Conrad for many years. He was a nervous, introverted, gloomy man, for whom writing was an agony, but he was rich in friends who appreciated his genius. Although the ocean and the mysterious lands that border it are the settings for his books, the truth of human experience is his theme, depicted with vigor, rhythm and passionate contemplation of reality.”
 
Is the truth in human experience a ‘theme’ you strive for in your life and work and, when you contemplate reality, what are some of the things that you find in your thoughts?
 
The truth of the human experience is a broad concept to me. I think my intention in art is more personal. I am trying to capture an experience, an aspect of the American experience maybe, but that too is very broad. I want to create things that are spiritual and universal, even timeless…but is that possible? Even love, beauty, friendship and peace have different definitions and connotations depending on where you are in the world. Often those definitions are created by religion or government, so are they the right definitions? It’s so complicated. The human experience encapsulates so much; it’s an ambitious thing to strive for I suppose, but it’s different in every corner of the world.
 

 
In Adre Gide’s The Immortalist, he says:
 
“Do you know the reason why poetry and philosophy are nothing but dead-letter nowadays? It is because they have severed themselves from life. In Greece, ideas went hand in hand with life; so that the artist’s life itself was already a poetic realization, the philosopher’s life a putting into action of his philosophy; in this way, as both philosophy and poetry took part in life, instead of remaining unacquainted with each other, philosophy provided food for poetry, and poetry gave expression to philosophy-and the result was admirably persuasive. Nowadays, beauty no longer acts; action no longer desires to be beautiful; and wisdom works in a sphere apart. ‘But you live your wisdom,’ said I; ‘why do you not write your memoirs? Or simply,’ I added, seeing him smile, ‘recollections of your travels?’”
 
Two things … Can you answer the first question posed by Gide, ‘Do you know the reason why poetry and philosophy are nothing but dead-letter nowadays?’ And are your photographs and words your own way of recording or capturing the recollections of your travels that is already a poetic realization?
 
I’m not sure poetry and philosophy are dead; they are just manifesting themselves in different ways, being combined with different media. I think philosophy can be very apparent in film nowadays, especially anything by Terrence Malick, and all the best poets or just songwriters now, but that’s ok because, it seems to me, poetry was always meant to be sung. So, these things are not gone, they’re just different; maybe they are a little more disguised. I think a lot of people who would have been great philosophers nowadays are maybe anthropologists or scientists or filmmakers. Art seems more alive than it’s ever been. It’s definitely more accessible and there is more art in the world than there was 1,000 years ago. My work is definitely a way of recording an experience though, I’m not sure if the way I live is poetic realization. It may lead me to tell a certain story later on, but it’s not till you tell that story that you find the poetry or the meaning or weirdness of the experience. The moment being recollected needs to be dissected and maybe even manipulated in order to find the truth of that moment.
 

 
I find myself quoting Joseph Campbell over and over but his ideas are something I wish people to speak on more. A quote of his I wrote down, “A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.” How hard is it for you if you believe this quote that, sometimes we must make so many sacrifices for our craft in giving up our lives / marriages / friendships / etc. to live a life for others and do something bigger than ourselves?
 
That’s such a dangerous idea. Sometimes art comes before friendships and marriages and all that, but is that right? Maybe once and a while, but I’ve seen it cause so much hurt. Some artists justify their actions by saying that their work is ‘bigger’ than themselves, and I think that can be noble when people sacrifice themselves for their work, but it sucks when they hurt people along the way. I wrestle with this in my own life, and I don’t necessarily believe art should be on the pedestal it is; I actually think that that is killing art. Art shouldn’t be a religion or a secret club. It’s the most natural thing to create stuff; it’s not weird at all. What’s weird is giving up your life to do something you hate, but of course circumstances can cause people to make that sacrifice as well. Regardless, I love making things, writing stories and taking pictures. I can’t stop, but I don’t know if it’s bigger than me or anyone else. Creating a family seems to me the ultimate creation. A man or a woman sacrificing him or herself for their family is more noble and is ‘bigger’ than any art.
 
In a recent interview I did with Tristan Patterson, director of Dragonslayer, he says, “Everybody in life needs to find something they sincerely care about otherwise, what reason is there to live?” What is your answer to his question, and moreso, what in your life do you sincerely care about that gives meaning for your personal existence?
 
Family, friends, Marlboro Reds, cold beer, desert highways and the beach.
 
I was reading the statement about your new show Natural History and, I’m not sure who wrote the statement, but I would like to hear your thoughts on what they were asking us, the reader, to interpret from your work: “The question of what it means to memorialize. Is remembering a passive process in which memories themselves lie dormant, waiting to be revealed, unveiled, or summoned? Or is it a creative act, in which the experiences represented by memories come into being through their very recollection?” So, are the memories themselves lying dormant, waiting to be revealed or, is it a creative act that comes through being by your own recollection?
 
An amazing anthropologist named Jill Cole wrote my press release. I specifically wanted an anthropologist to write it and, I specifically love that she found that question in my work; I’m not sure I know how to answer the questions my work poses though. Another artist friend once told me, art should always be a question. I agree with that. So if my work poses a question then I’ve done my job.
 

 
To keep in line with the theme of war, and since we live in a country that has been fighting wars since its inception, I am curious to hear your thoughts on this quote I came across in Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia … “One of the most horrible features of war is that all the war-propaganda, all the screaming and lies and hatred, comes invariably from people who are not fighting.” Why do you think it is so easy for those who are sitting comfortably forty stories above the pavement or locked in their boardrooms and Bentley’s to push bullshit war-propaganda and not fight themselves in the wars they create, distributing death and hatred around the world?
 
Because they are the assholes getting rich off of war.
 
 

“Hurt Bullies, Not Yourself”

-ALT

 
 
 
Original Photographs by Ricardo Lozano for Paradigm Magazine
 
Essay by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
 
 

 
I first met her hiking in the Adirondacks, pink hair pressed under a bandana. Enthusiasm pierced through her with every ray of sun pulling through the canopy. When we finished five days on the trail our groups reconnected and headed toward campus. I never spoke to her much, but when I did she was passionate about the environment, and learning how to sustainably travel in the wilderness. So, when she quit college I was surprised; it seemed she had a lot more to learn. But then I found out what happened; she fell in love. He wore those tight, rolled up pants with tears in them, band t-shirts and a denim jacket with patches; he hadn’t worn anything different for three years. Now they hitchhike, maybe steal a little and, they definitely aren’t afraid to ask for food and money for them and their dogs. Last time I saw them I can’t remember if I paid up or essentially let them down … all I know is I’m a little jealous of their freedom. I feel like my home is everywhere too, but I can’t live that way.
 
 

 
 

“Everybody in life needs to find something they sincerely care about otherwise, what reason is there to live?”

-Tristan Patterson

 
 
 
Introduction by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
Interview by Theo Constantinou & Photograph by Eric Koretz
 
 
 
Tristan Patterson’s Dragonslayer is a window into a creative young man’s highs and lows. Josh “Screech” Sandoval lives moment-by-moment making choices with feelings, and he is not particularly interested in how others judge him. Dragonslayer shows “Screech” making various decisions within a year that lead to positive and negative outcomes, and how skateboarding allowed this social radical to find solid ground. Patterson’s social commentary creates a surprisingly contentious realm of discussion that he does not fully find necessary. Despite numerous comments, Patterson reveals that “Screech” is not meant to be an idol, or an example of what not to do. Patterson’s film is about individuals speaking through actions instead of living off of generalized criteria. In our world, it is not whether you’re doing drugs or not, it is your visible functionality that shows people how to treat you. It is bullshit. There are lawyers that snort coke and teachers that smoke pot every weekend. So why does avoiding the 9-5 and the debt of a university make a person dysfunctional? It doesn’t. Tristan sheds light on the avenue of free will. Free will isn’t choosing an occupation or slightly enjoyable activity intended to occupy the rest of your life, it is being yourself even if that is a different person from one moment to the next.
 
Dragonslayer is an honest view of living. Life doesn’t have to be perfectly aligned or totally fucked. The film is about being face-to-face with how most of us live our own lives behind our curtains, when the routine and mundane can make us happy, and what happens when we need to run away from it all. That need to sprint into the unknown is what sustains the beauty and life in Tristan’s film, it is the definition of what makes these young and complex individuals an example for the audience to follow.
 
 
 
I read a statement that you made, “I think of California living as the suburban dream, and you go out into inland California now, and it’s like, this is where that dream is now. Let’s look that in the eye. I’m not going to deconstruct it or glorify it—I’m just going to try to see it as cleanly as I can and find something beautiful in it.” I was made aware of a conference in Ohio for psychologists called “The Sailor Cannot See the North:” The Psychospiritual Dilemma of our Time; the question they posed was, “What are the sources of guidance for a thoughtful person in our country amid political fractionation, animosity, divisive ideologies, and numbing distractions–a time in which the individual has an enormous summons to social, psychological and spiritual integrity?” So I ask you the same question in relation to making your film and what you experienced filming Skreech over that time period. What was your social, psychological and spiritual integrity in making Dragonslayer?
 
“The Sailor Cannot See The North” is such an incredible title. It really captures how I think we all feel— or at least how I feel—about the times we’re living in. There seems to be this tremendous corruption we all have an instinct to fight against, but the corruption is so complex and systematic, it’s hard to even begin to figure out how. To try to answer your question, my social, psychological and spiritual integrity while making Dragonslayer was to try to make a movie that was honest, kind and graceful. Also, while making it, I wanted to conduct myself in a similar way.
 
Bishop Desmond Tutu said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.” What are your thoughts on this not only on a global level, but also, what you were able to convey in your film DragonSlayer?
 
One of the things that’s interesting to me about the moment we’re living in is that, I think there’s a lot of fear out there; people are just putting on blinders and clinging to a status-quo that feels increasingly obsolete. There’s also tremendous pressure to fall in line with the status quo—we’re constantly being told our very livelihoods depend on it. And my feeling while making Dragonslayer was to try to seize this very specific moment and say, fuck that. What will happen if I go completely against the grain of what I’m being told success should look like? What will happen if rather than trying to make a movie that’s a carbon copy of every other movie, I try to make something that captures human experience in a new kind of way—and to not do it simply out of anger or rebellion, but to do it as a very necessary means of expressing an honest, kind and graceful way of seeing the world in the face of this kind of fear? In a lot of ways, I think this is what drew me to Skreech. He’s not concerned with how the world is telling him he should act and, in his own way, he’s incredibly optimistic about life to a degree that’s almost shocking. It’s like he has zero expectations of the world, and is therefor able to find joy in strange things that most people might never even consider.
 
You said, “I think Josh is like a lot of kids from his generation—smart enough to know a potentially bleak future looms, and scrambling to figure out a way to survive in it.” I think most kids from any generation that don’t devote themselves to a proper education and a 9-5, face the idea of scrambling to figure out how to survive. Were you able to find in making this film that, kids like Josh, who abuse drugs, alcohol and come from broken homes, have a much harder time surviving and creating any kind of decent future?
 
How are we defining a “decent future?” I think Josh is struggling with the same things we all struggle with—even those of us who have devoted ourselves to a proper eduction and a 9-5; he wants to figure out a way to stay true to himself and be happy. He wants to make a life for himself that has value—something it’s getting harder and harder in the world to do. Also, I think it’s worth defending kids who abuse drugs, alcohol and come from broken homes, even if that’s not how I would describe Josh, nor is it, I think, how he would describe himself. But these kids tend to be a lot less judgemental and more interesting than the know-it-all kids who play by the rules and don’t take any risks in life. And you’re right, they probably pay a cost for it, but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth celebrating simply because they may get punished for their indescretions in the end: we all get punished in the end. Their instincts aren’t all wrong. Some of their instincts are even glorious.
 

 
I read this review by Dustin Rowles about your film and he says, ” Man, if you don’t understand Tristan Patterson’s documentary Dragonslayer, then you just don’t get it. Some might say that the verite-style look at a washed-up punk skater Josh ‘Screech’ Sandoval is pointless, but that’s the point, man. Why do films have to go somewhere? Why do they have to mean something? Why do they have to be entertaining, or engrossing, or fascinating? Why do you have to care about the characters? You think there needs to be a ‘reason’ to make a film? Dude, ‘reasons’ are just random constructs created by Corpro-fascists to keep us all locked in our tiny little worlds of Starbucks and prepackaged meals.” So, my question for you is, do you think that “reasons” are just random constructs created by corporate ‘fascists’ to keep us from really ever finding true meaning in our lives, specifically related to the reasons of you making this film?
 
The writer Bret Easton Ellis has been pushing this notion that America is now divided into two camps: empire and post-empire. I’d pose it that the review you quoted is an empire opinion about a post-empire film. It’s so status-quo; everything Dragonslayer is not. The film is hardly a rant about Corpro-fascists, if that’s even a word; it’s a portrait of a new generation of kids and the way they experience life. It’s so reductive to suggest just because the film doesn’t marry itself to traditional documentary constructs —talking heads telling you why you should care, an entirely unambiguous climax and resolution, etc.—that it’s somehow just a big “fuck you.” I wasn’t interested in making a propoganda film, and I’m certainly not interested in an audience that needs to be told how to feel. My goal was to create a new kind of cinema that is alive and authentic, to immerse an audience in a world and let them arrive at their own conclusions about what they see on screen, even if that means some people will walk away with some pretty strange reactions. So, do I think “reasons” are just random constructs created by corporate fascists to keep us from ever finding true meaning in our lives? Of course not. I think reasons are the things we come up with to try to give our lives true meaning. Religion, for instance, is an example of this. The very act of making a film is a “random construct,” but that doesn’t mean the film I make isn’t going to be deeply considered and heartfelt. I’m not interested in making films that simply point out what’s bankrupt. I’m interested in making films that uncover what’s beautiful and still possible.
 
Leslie quotes David Palmer’s, How to overthrow the government (and have a good time, too!) …. How did this come about and her choice to only quote certain segments of the piece?
 
Josh was trying to sell off all his worldly belongings at a yard sale but no one bought his magazine collection. He found an old punk zine from his stash and started telling Leslie about it. That essay was in the magazine so I had her read from it out loud; it wasn’t her choice to read only certain segments of the piece. She read the entire piece but it’s really long so, we had to pick and choose our moments.
 
These are the portions that really stick out to me but, what is your opinion on what Dave says here and how it relates to the way you see America, especially in a society where everyone is so connected and plugged into the system?
 
“Throw rocks through windows. Torch billboards. You’re not committing vandalism. They are, by covering up the natural landscape with concrete and steel. Buy moonshine or make it yourself. Legal alcohol is taxed, so every drink you take makes the government richer. Don’t buy smokes where they’re taxed, either. You can get tax-free smokes in Indian nations or you can grow your own tobacco (or pot). Also, remember that you don’t have to pay state sales tax on things that you buy by mail from out of state. Don’t buy state-run lottery tickets or gamble where it’s legal; your money is going to the government. Drive as little as possible. Not only are you fucking up the environment, you’re also making the oil companies rich and you’re making the government rich because you’re paying the gas tax. Whenever you do drive, get the most you possibly can out of your car or truck. Start a transportation co-op or car pool; if you’re going to work, take your friends to work, too. If your car or truck gets a ticket, don’t pay it, you can use it for scrap paper and save a tree instead. If you see a ticket on someone else’s car, take it off. Don’t work, or get the lowest paying job you can survive on. That way you’re paying less income tax. Or, if you like what you’re doing, keep on doing, just quit paying income tax (like Willie Nelson). The only problem with this is that you have to keep your head down if you want to stay out of jail. Turn off your tv. Turn off your radio. Commercial tv and radio belong to the companies who advertise on them, so you never get the whole truth, just the companies’ version of it. Even public tv and radio, at least most of it, is paid for in part by corporations. Start your own pirate radio station. Teach your kids yourself; don’t let the state-run schools fuck with their minds. Live as independently from the government and the big corporations as you can. Get involved in co-ops and commumes or start your own. Educate yourself. Know what’s going on, and make informed decisions about what to do about it. The more you know, the more dangerous you are to the government.”
 
I’m more interested in it as an expression of feeling than I am in it as some kind of political manifesto for how we should be approaching the future, although I will say, he’s not entirely wrong. But in the context of Dragonslayer, it’s just the poetry that hangs in the air in a place like Fullerton. It’s the words of the D.I.Y. punk generation that raised Skreech at his local skate park.
 
Skreech’s monologue of his ‘Ideal World’ is pretty profound, speaking on everyone being frozen, rivers still moving, animals still living and he is the only one able to control his environment and the individuals in his physical space. It was quite compelling to hear him say those things after watching his self-destruction throughout the film and then having to succumb to working in a bowling alley and raising his son. His life and narrative have now been romanticized through film, but, I’m curious to hear your thoughts as to the impact of watching himself and hearing those words of his ideal world had on Skreech? And to ask you the same question you asked Skreech … What would your definition of an ideal world would be?
 
I don’t see the film as a portrait of self-destruction. I think it’s a portrait of what it feels like to be young. Youth is fleeting, and there’s something beautiful in the idea of stopping time to hold onto youth forever. In terms of Skreech, I think he probably has a different reaction to the movie every time he watches it, and this will probably be true for the rest of his life. What I love about the ending is that I don’t think he has “succumbed.” He’s still trying to figure out a way to be original and true to himself while acknowledging the challenges of growing up. He’s still optimistic about the future. As for me, I’m so grateful that he was courageous enough to allow me to film a moment in his life where he was going through this experience, I would say my ideal world is having that kind of opportunity.
 
Here is an excerpt from ‘Refused Are Fucking Dead’ — “Sometimes punk rock is beautiful because, it’s a reflection of what life should be, and sometimes it’s just a stupid clique for adolescents. When it’s time to die, who is ready to die as nobly and as gloriously; the fact our mortality demands. Who’s ready for that? By the time you die your so exhausted, so beaten and so miserable that you can only die. It was tragic because punk rock did not save our lives.” So my question is, do you think that music, or in this case skateboarding, has the power to save lives, or is it really a stupid clique for adolescents?
 
I like the end of the quote better—that punk rock is a celebration of putting it all on the line and going until you can’t go anymore, and it’s tragic that like everything else, it can’t save you in the end. I’d add, I don’t think anything is stupid if a kid sincerely cares about it. I definitely think Josh would tell you, if he wasn’t skateboarding, he’d probably be dead. But that’s not a radical statement. Everybody in life needs to find something they sincerely care about otherwise, what reason is there to live?
 
Leslie spoke on sociology class being her way of interpreting and making sense of the world, specifically in regard to understanding people … What is your way of interpreting and making sense of the world and, how do you use that interpretation to understand people?
 
See Dragonslayer.
 

 
F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “For what it’s worth: it’s never too late, or, in any case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same; there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you have never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you are not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.” What are you thoughts on this quote, and is there a specific instance where there was a time in your life that you weren’t proud of that you had the strength to start over again?
 
That’s a great quote. I’d say making Dragonslayer was an opportunity to start all over again—to try to see life from a place that wasn’t jaded or pessimistic, but wide open to new possibility. I think in a way, that’s the essence of making films. Each one is a new opportunity to see the world through brand new eyes.
 
 

“As for revolution, it’s a word that has been appropriated too many times by the advertisers; revolution has been properly killed by the cool-hunters: the word is a trophy on their wall. We need to use new words to embody the original spirit. I use insurrection; there are many others.”

-Filastine

 
 
 
Introduction by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
Interview Theo Constantinou & Photographs Courtesy of the Artist
 
 
 
Filastine is an artist of great emotion fleshing out the necessity of sadness, or anger. Breaking laws, he films landscapes that define the dissonance between humanity, nature, and needs versus wants. His music, videos and writing portray the mistakes humans have made since the beginning of agriculture if not before. Filastine is a poet not just with his incredibly dimensional blog, but with music and films that display a talent for in-the-moment disguises, and DIY collaborative projects that are a mesh of ideas not yet fully explored. His experiences are boundless, and run deep into the lives of people as a whole. He does not use conventional perspectives, but truly involves himself with personal issues of a country or individual feeling their politics, environmental, and emotional dilemmas as his own. Filastine’s method of travel stands out because of his use of local talents within his work, and his selfless involvement.
 
The images evoked by Filastine’s primal vibrations mimic the discomfort of a horror film; the soundtrack to a day where I might hike a portion of the Mason Dixon and realize that I haven’t seen a salamander since I was eight. I was reminded of my mixed feelings as a ten year old visiting Nepal after the entire royal family was massacred. The mix of horror and absolute awe when our house shook from the Maoists bombing the Prime Minister’s daughter’s house down the street in Kathmandu. Or the narrow drive from Rajpur to Mussoorie, India at 7,000 feet and witnessing a portion of the Himalayas where mountainsides are nothing but trash. The music by Filastine can be the backdrop to any environment. I believe he has succeeded in creating music that can be enjoyed for its own colorful and delicious morphs of tone, and diverse styles. However, his external artistry is a representation of his conscious sensitivity that we can learn from. Being informed can be painful, but it is the first step to castrating denial.
 
 
 
 
When I first heard this recording on Mos Def’s Super Magic, I immediately transcribed the words, which I later found out were said by Malcolm X:
 
“You’re living at a time of extremism, a time of revolution, a time where there’s got to be a change. People in power have misused it and now there has to be a change, and a better world has to be built and the only way it is going to be built is with extreme methods and I for one will join with anyone, don’t care what color you are as long as you want to change this miserable condition that exists on this earth.”
 
Do you agree with this statement by Malcolm, and this was said nearly 40 years ago, do you think we are still living in a time of extremism and of revolution that will change the “miserable condition that exists on this earth?”
 
The world has only become more extreme since the era that Malcolm said this. The wealth gap (the best judge of inequity) has only expanded since then, and the most fundamental crisis that we face, environmental collapse and climate change, wasn’t even properly understood back then. As for revolution, it’s a word that has been appropriated too many times by the advertisers; revolution has been properly killed by the cool-hunters: the word is a trophy on their wall. We need to use new words to embody the original spirit. I use insurrection; there are many others.
 

 
I have heard that this quote by Thomas Jefferson could be bullshit, but in a letter to the Secretary of the Treasury, Albert Gallatin (1802), and later published in The Debate Over The Recharter Of The Bank Bill (1809)…for the sake of this question let’s say that it is true:
 
“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around [the banks] will deprive the people of all property until their children wake-up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.”
 
Well, seems like Mr. Jefferson was completely right and understood the banking institution quite well even at that time. With what is happening in the US today, and the uprising of the youth here, do you think it would be possible in our lifetime to see the power ever taken away from these banks and corporations and, where do you think the starting point for something like that would be?
 
There is no doubt that banks and most credit institutions are predatory: they are the hawks, we are the field mice, but it’s wishful thinking to imagine that by abolishing banks we fix our problems, which are caused by a complex matrix of financial, ecological and spiritual pathologies. About corporate (or bank) power, nobody cedes their power (or profit) by choice; those same corporations fought pitched battles over the 40-hour work week, hiring thugs, buying politicians and manipulating public opinion over something we consider normalized, or even sacrosanct, now.
 
For the people who read this that don’t know, (via Wiki) “the Sidoarjo mud flow is a mud volcano in the sub district of Porong, Sidoarjo in East Java, Indonesia that has been in eruption since May 2006. This is the biggest mud volcano in the world, that was created by the blowout of a natural gas well drilled by PT Lapindo Brantas, although company officials contend that it was caused by a distant earthquake.” Whether it’s the Union Carbide story in Bhopal, India or the Niger Delta exploitation of Exxon Mobil, it feels like the corporations will always win. They pay, if at all, some fine to those affected that hardly covers the catastrophic damages they’ve done to those people physically and psychologically, and they continue to perpetuate their destruction. What are your thoughts on this, as well as, how you create your music, visually and musically to bring awareness to these catastrophes?
 
These are all mighty depressing subjects; it’s very difficult to make something meaningful that speaks to these catastrophes. There is an easy danger of sounding like a shrill activist “using” music as a propaganda vehicle. For this reason, I try and make the music stand for itself as art; the politics are carried more by video (both live, as you see in the music video for “Colony Collapse”). People can choose to watch the videos, or just appreciate the music for its own intrinsic quality (I hope!).
 
You take a very in-the-moment approach to making music, whether it is in jungles on the outskirts of Salatiga, to rooftops in NYC, or in apartments in Morocco … Why is it important to you to take such a different method to each of your recordings?
 
Necessity. There is a music I want to make; this is the only possible way to do it, but working on my own DIY web of affinities, I’ve slowly created a marked path, my own trade route that connects nodes in the Americas, Asia, and the Mediterranean.
 

 
Here is a piece I read from Henry Rollins’ “Occupants.” The excerpt is accompanied by an image of a baby sitting on a heap of trash in a graveyard in Jakarta, Indonesia:
 
“I have seen the anger on the faces. The beautiful, smoldering eyes and immense talent. To know that the color of your skin means you will have to be at least ten times what others are — and even then, there’s a good chance that someone will take your incredible abilities and relegate them to the status of a novelty. Anything rather than confronting something so toweringly and immensely beautiful. I have seen it so many times. The fear that fills prisons and paints American streets with blood. I am a bright light. It is something that I never tell my friends. I am afraid that they might see it in themselves. I am afraid what would happen when they came to understand what I already know. I am already dead. They are already dead. Our brightness has no meaning. Our great spirits and high hopes are nothing more than what will be crushed if they ever stupidly make their presence known. The numbers are just not in our favor. Not everyone will have a life burdened with the distraction of possibility. It’s more than mere consequence or the shifting of fortunes. It is a fact as sure as the tall and mirrored buildings that surround this restless, bustling cemetery. As the years go on, my skin will tighten, my muscles will become unbreakable sinew, my bones will harden. I will lift and carry incredible amounts of weight as a matter of course. I will admire the coarse dullness of my friends who work so hard and sleep so deeply. Humanity is a whiplash. Your life depends on which side of the whip you’re on. To know this and still to live. I worship myself only.”
 
Do you agree that humanity is a whiplash and that, it truly depends on which side of the whip you are on?
 
Not sure if i agree with the punk poet. Binaries like this, one side of the whiplash or the other, don’t apply well with complex systems. Even what appears to be the simplest binaries of privilege like race, gender, class, are infinitely complicated.
 
I jotted down this quote by Tom Robbins that says, “Life isn’t stable. Stability is unnatural. The only stable society is the police state. You can have a free society or you can have a stable society. You can’t have both. Take your choice. As for me, I’ll choose a free, organic society over a rigid, artificial society any day.” What is your choice and, even if you choose instability, we live in the system so, isn’t it kind of hard to truly not be confined to the rules of the system? Do you agree with this?
 
Even a police state isn’t stable; can we find one that hasn’t collapsed? From the first attempts at top-down civilization in Mesopotamia, to the Romans, the Chinese Dynasties, the British, and now the waning US Empire: they always fail. Tom Robbins might have it backwards; ironically, the most stable societies have been those least like a police state. Tribal civilizations, forest dwellers, nomadic cultures, these are the human systems that survived tens of thousands of years.
 
Your video for “Colony Collapse,” was described as a “slow-motion apocalypse, uncomfortably close and personal.” It was filmed “at sites of ecological friction, the fault lines of conflict between humanity and (the rest of) nature.” How important was it for you as an artist to capture this great global tragedy that is happening through your music. And more specifically, working with Astu “tooliq” Prasidya to create such intensely powerful images of the plight that is happening in Indonesia?
 
We set out to make something not about a particular place, but about the constant war we have against nature; Indonesia is just an example. It is one of those places where globalization does its dirty work, and it’s also mega-populated. The Javanese have populated to a point where the government of Indonesia does a program called “transmigrasi,” transmigration: exporting Javanese to other islands. Not so different from the German Lebensraum or, the idea of manifest destiny in the US. You can find the same stories and the same situations anywhere on the ragged edges of the world economic order, all that shit we consume comes from somewhere, and the mess it leaves behind is not pretty. Until women have strong rights, education, and access to health care, all of which comes from social justice, we’ll continue to have more people, all of whom want more things. More people + more consumption = dead earth.
 

 
 

“I think happiness equates to peace of mind. And I think, yes, people need to work for happiness. I don’t think anything in life comes without hard work, and if it does, then its probably undeserved. I’m an advocate for perseverance, and once one attains what it is they aspire, then I am an advocate for humility and appreciation.”

-Andrew Salgado

 
 
 
Introduction by Adria Leeper-Sullivan
 
Interview Theo Constantinou
 
 
 
A folded map bears lines of journeys taken off course; a cracked window reflects an expanded prism of events. Andrew Salgado uses the human body to hint at inner development and physical trials molded by an individual’s experiences. His works are much like the disjointed reality from the film I Heart Huckabees, where chaos and unity are one. Salgado strives for a loosened grip of interpretation between his artwork and audience, and between the subject and its copy; eye sockets and mouths filled with flowers and faces in an excess of angles showing agony and happiness. I feel drawn to gaze upon each image as a story with numerous hardships breaking the spirit, while new growths melt these experiences together with a learned strength. In Proppian analysis, a harm or lack is identified before addressing the body of the story. This lack results in an epiphany. The paintings of Andrew Salgado document the learned love toward one’s own essence through sexuality to access identity. Salgado uses personal traumas and knowledge to teach that bodies and souls heal themselves, creating a universal message.
 
 
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 
Andrew, you are quoted in your artist statement saying, “The objective of this pursuit is to challenge a perspective of identity through heightened, purposefully self-aware representation, in which these representations refer to their own physicality and question their legitimacy and even the very nature of my practice.” Can you talk about your self-awareness further, and representing the physicality in your work along with questioning that same legitimacy?
 
Self-awareness or reflexivity is something that I always strive for within my paintings, in the sense that I’ve always felt it too superficial to simply aim for likeness in representation. In this regard, it’s important for me to question the nature of the painted image, the figure, and also those concepts not-so-visibly evidenced such as masculinity, sexuality, and identity. I suppose that the way I go about drawing attention to this is by loosening the grip on representationalism; I want the viewer to be very aware that they are looking at a reconstruction – a mark of paint might vaguely (or not so vaguely) represent an eye, or the tip of a nose, but it also exists purely as a mark of paint, nothing else and nothing more. It is this duality of forms that I believe allows me (and hopefully the viewer) to question the painted image. In the act of questioning that, I think the entire figurative form becomes questioned. For me, the fact that I don’t implicitly ‘buy in’ to the image on the canvas, and am concerned about its (de)construction, prevents the work from becoming too solipsistic, self-indulgent, or banal. I like to keep things uncertain: the form, the concept, the figure itself.
 

 
“My work often uses personal history to approach universal themes, and a politics that I view as deeply personal, yet resoundingly human.” What is your definition of a universal theme and, can you talk about some of this personal history and politics that are deeply personal to you?
 
I think universal themes are pain: joy, loss, ecstasy, sadness, time, convalescence. These are all broad, deeply passionate themes that resound universally. My work became a lot more personal and political in 2008, when I was confronted with a very violent personal experience based on my sexuality, that caused me to consider painting as a means to defense, even in some instances an equally violent act. My 2011 painting, Bloody Faggot (ca. 2008) is actually a second version of an earlier 2008 painting of the same name, and engages the same theme with a distance of three years. There is a lot of space between these two works, but for me, this growth equates not only a technical growth, but also an emotional maturation that comes with time. As such, I don’t think that anyone necessarily has to relate to the precise sources of inspiration that I am drawing from, but certainly ideas like pain, and the passing of time are universal. For me, these themes are what keep my work politically equipped and purposeful.
 

 
 

 
In your new exhibition Anxious, your work was described as having a “schizophrenic energy, suggesting both a serene recollection of memory and convalescence.” Is this a fair representation of your work and, can you talk on the statement a bit further?
 
I think my work is quite schizophrenic, yes. I bore easily. Lately, people (mainly art students) have been asking me to explain my technical creative process, which is (at least for me) a bit of a silly question. I have no requisite order in the studio; I do what comes organically and naturally. One day I might paint in a certain style, the next day completely differently. I have, however, stopped viewing this as a negative thing and now I have learned to embrace this unruliness as a strength. I appreciate uncertainty. I often say that an artist’s worst enemy is an undeserved sense of confidence in the studio. Certainly, a certain amount of conviction is a necessity, but my desire to challenge myself means that I am never working without a healthy amount of anxiety and unease. That’s where the very title from the NYC show, Anxious, was derived: purely from that state of unease while working, which permeates and energizes much of my work. So yes, it’s fair to say that the work technically is quite schizophrenic, but often comments on ideas of calmness, moments of distance, and removal from presence. Faces and bits of figuration often become erased and deconstructed to reflect this.
 

 
Andrew, I recently just did an interview with Henry Rollins. I thought I would preface a very personal question for you that you don’t have to answer if you don’t feel comfortable. Henry was quoted saying, in one of his previous works that, “Knowledge without mileage is bullshit to me.” I read that a number of the works feature mouthless boys, perhaps suggesting your victimization in a 2008 hate-crime assault in which he lost his teeth. This may be too personal a question to ask, but how do you feel that moment in 2008 shaped who you are as an individual and, the knowledge and perspective you were able to gain from that moment in your life, whether it be positive or negative?
 
Really nothing is too personal, because it’s all put out there with the artwork. While I no longer feel that my work is directly related to that event, it certainly refocused my direction, and I do feel that all of my work is in some way directly related to that catalytic event. I’m not sure how much mileage I have, but the space between who I was at that moment and who I’ve become as a result of it, is something I would never wish to change.
 
In the majority of my deep conversations with people, they are always talking about trying to be happy, or their search for this state of happiness. What is your definition of happiness and, do you think if people are searching for their definition of happiness that they will find it?
 
I think happiness equates to peace of mind. And I think, yes, people need to work for happiness. I don’t think anything in life comes without hard work, and if it does, then its probably undeserved. I’m an advocate for perseverance, and once one attains what it is they aspire, then I am an advocate for humility and appreciation.
 

 
Andrew, I know this quote is really long, but I would love to hear your thoughts. How would you answer Sterling’s question: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?
 
“To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea… ‘cruising,’ it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.
 
‘I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.’ What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of security. And in the worship of ‘security’ we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine – and before we know it our lives are gone.
 
What does a man need – really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in – and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all – in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.
 
The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed. Where, then, lies the answer? In choice.
 
Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?” –Sterling Hayden
 
While I love the quote – its quite eloquent and poetic, I think the answer is quite simple…of course bankruptcy of purse is preferable to bankruptcy of life. Are they mutually exclusive? I think this is similar to your question on happiness. I guess I maintain that, in a lot of respects, I have attained what I desire in life: to paint and to share those paintings. Unfortunately, I live in a city where one cannot escape capitalism and that is a reality I face. So, I must join the rat-race despite the fear and burdens I feel from ‘the voyage;’ I get from this a thrill that keeps me going. Its easy to be lazy when nothing is at stake, I fear.
 
What does fragility of self mean to you?
 
I think the concept of identity is a porous thing. I think one’s sense of self is a relational idea … perhaps more often defined by ‘what it is not’ than by ‘what it truly is’. In many respects, this is what I’m trying to explore with the paintings.
 

 
 
Andrew’s work will be featured at Tache Gallery (Booth E-11) at the Affordable Art Fair, New York City (April 18-22)
 
He also has two forthcoming solo exhibitions of new paintings, In Order to Rebuild, with DOSI Gallery & Hada Contemporary in Busan, Korea (opening July 16 – August, 2012) and also The Misanthrope Falters with Beers.Lambert Contemporary in London, UK (opening October 4 – November, 2012).