ARTbitch

EDITORZILLA RETURNS! (Me take pretty cloud pictures one day.)

2012-01-28T00:01:00.000-08:00

“By giving usthe opinions of the uneducated, journalism keeps us in touch with the ignoranceof the community”. – Oscar Wilde

HelloBlogiteers!

Damn-when it comes right down to brass tacks, I just love being a Prophet of Snark-the hours are good, the pays alright, and the benefit package absolutely rocks.Sure, there is somewhat of a down side to always being proven correct, thatbeing things are as bad as they seem, but I’m learning to live with it as I getolder.

You know… like you do. However- despite my well proven track record of callingit like it is, there are still some who doubt my ability to do so. As you mightimagine, I have a pet nickname for these few and far between people: idiots.

Truthfully,only an imbecile could take the position that the PAS (Phoenix Art Scene) is fine and dandy as is,but it does occasionally happen, and for that, I am grateful, mainly since itgives me a metaphorical scratching post to sharpen my claws on.

Speakingof things that have been previously clawed …

Inour last blog, it was my fellow Artists, and it felt sooooo good to speak mymind, let me tell you. In fact, this blog was supposed to be a continuation ofthat rant, but a small spanner has been thrown into the works, and I am forcedto take a detour yet again to swat at one of my favorite targets.

Ok, maybe “forced” isn’t the correct word to use, since my chosen victim willingly droveup to my castle, handed me several cases of ammo, cranked up the ol’ trebuchet,and then staked themselves to an anthill, after dowsing themselves in honey.

Ilive for these kinds of days. If I had a pitcher of ice cold milk and a case ofDing Dongs, it would be damn nigh perfect, and it simply doesn’t get betterthan this, in my humble opinion.

Sowhat has derailed my previous rant for this newer one? Well…

Itseems that my ol’ nemesis The Phoenix New Times is rushing headlong intodredging their barrel of mediocrity yet again, kicking off the New Year with anastoundingly dubious article that strains to link the following: The GirlScouts of America, their “Savannah Smiles” cookie, and a similarly named pornstar who tragically committed suicide back in 1994.

[Link:http://blogs.phoenixnewtimes.com/bella/2012/01/suicidal_junkie_porn_star_cook.php]

Idon’t know how your overall thought process works, but a long-dead porn actressis typically not the first thing that comes to my mind when I rip into a box ofyummy lemon cookies- not because I don’t like blondes, it’s just that my lovefor sugar far outweighs my tendencies towards necrophilia.

Now,the rumor is that this particular adult film actress allegedly took her porn monikerfrom her favorite film, 1982's mostly forgotten “Savannah Smiles” which starreda little girl named BridgetteAndersen who alsogrew up to be a heroin addict (but not a porn star) and took a fatal"accidental overdose" at the age of 21.

Whatthis has to do with The Girl Scouts of America is beyond me, but leave it to NTto connect the imaginary dots and state: “It'shard to imagine the Girl Scouts growing a (metaphorical) pair and encouragingparents and leaders to explain in detail to the girls why filthy-minded peopleare helplesslyspit-taking when they're offered a chance to stock up onSavannah Smiles cookies.”

No,what’s truly hard to imagine is the meeting room where this tripe wassuccessfully green-lighted, except to say that I’m pretty sure touchinganything contained inside it with your bare hands is probably a very bad idea.

Seriously,where does NT’s enduring fascination with the Porn industry come from? Doeseveryone over there need to get laid like yesterday, or is the urgent necessityto bump their rapidly faltering ad revenue dictating this predilection towardsbecoming a paper that you can read with only one hand?

[Furtherproof of NT’s Porn fixation located at: http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/slideshow/adult-entertainment-expo-2012-35993488/]

Asamused as I am by this newest faux story, the reality of the cookie’s name isthis: GSA founder Juliette Low was from Savannah, Georgia,the half-moon-shape resembles a smile, and as far as a truly tangibleconnection to porn goes, there really isn’t one. But I’ll give NT some mad dogprops for trying like hell to correlate the two out of ether and air.

Ifthey’re able to keep fabricating associations like this, just wait until theyblow that Sesame StreetSex Slave scandal wide open. Fortunately for this Artbitch, the embarrassmentof riches continued with yet another inane article to be found, this a reviewof the new Tilted Kilt bar and grill situated in downtown Phoenix.

[Link:http://blogs.phoenixnewtimes.com/bella/2012/01/on_breastaurants.php]

TheBro who composed this article wittily labeled it as a “breastaurant” due to thefact that the waitresses are a wee bit healthy in the… (ahem) personal rackdepartment, a fact noted more than once, and annoyingly so. For example: “The owners know what they're doing inchoosing these girls -- as a friend of mine used to say while motioning to hischest, "She had a GREAT personality."

Thatright there is a classy observation, let me tell you. It reminds me of when Iused to read NT’s former food critic Michelle Laudig’s past reviews where sheestimated the size of the packages the waiters at FEZ seemingly had, while noting how tight theirasses were.

“They were like two scoops ofVanilla Ice Cream…”

Oops,my bad… I think I may have just made that last quote up, since Michelleactually just noted down her opinion about the food, because that’s what arestaurant critic is SUPPOSED TO DO, in lieu of just sitting and ogling thewaitstaff in the manner of a fourteen year old horndog.

Butthen again, it is the New Times, and when you read this article, you get thesense that the writer would’ve been more at home in a strip club, which isn’tthat far of a stretch, especially when you take into consideration the dualrealities of who buys advertising in this rag, and how those sales might beacquired.

Onthe up side, if I ever do find myself needing some advice regarding a lap-dancethat comes with both a happy ending and a car stereo, I’ll at least know whereto look. Ah. You think that I’m being too harsh, yet again?

Thenre-read the little bon mot that wraps the article up, and you tell me if I’moff base: “Men, guided by their cavemanbrains, will seek these places out like sea turtles returning to a beach, andall the restaurant has to do while the air fills with the sounds of flirtationand rising hopes is offer food that doesn't suck. Twin Peaks' beer is good, theTVs are numerous and the food isn't half bad.

Plus, you know, boobs. It shoulddo well. “

“Boobs”. The secret to aclassy joint- and a classy end to this classy article. However, my cynicism wasto be short-lived, for as I read on, an unforeseen miracle had taken place. Somethingthat was so marvelous, so amazing, so stupendous, so wonderful, I just have towrite it out using all capital letters….

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES… AMY SILVERMAN, MANAGINGEDITOR OF THE PHOENIX NEW TIMES (AKA: “EDITORZILLA”) HAS SEEN THE ERROR OF HERWAYS AND IS NOW GOING TO PLEDGE AN ATTEMPT TO RE-ADOPT HER NEW FOUND ATTITUDETHAT SHE ATTEMPTED FOR SIX MONTHS BACK IN 2011 REGARDING AN ATTEMPT AT FORCINGHERSELF TO “COME UP WITH SOMETHING TO LOVE ABOUT PHOENIX EVERY DAY”.

GRANTED… SHE HAD ORIGINALLY PLEDGEDTO DO THIS FOR A YEAR, BUT IN HER OWN WORDS: “I gave up.Hey, I made it more than half a year. I'd never come close to keeping aresolution that long. Plus, I figured, why keep going if it wasn't working? Andit definitely wasn't working.”

[Link: http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/2012-01-19/culture/snapshots-of-a-city-and-new-found-love-for-a-hometown/]

It wasn’t “working”, she says… sonice to see that she approached her self-created project with the same commitmentthat she applied to that bartending class that she failed so many moons ago.

Asregular Blogiteers already know, I’ve frequently lambasted Amy for her 2005article: “Phoenix Has an Inferiority Complex", in which she goes on and onabout her snarky dislike for most things truly Phoenician, proudly admittingthat her original reason for wanting to set out for graduate school was: [inher words] “not because I sought academic enlightenment, but because it seemed likethe easiest way to get to New York.”

There’s also sad recollections of her misguided high schoolfashion sense, the out of the ordinary use of TV shows as a metaphoricaldivining rod for crucial life decisions, and her washing out of NYC beforecoming back to Arizona with her tail tucked firmly between her legs.

All very (YAWN) compelling stuff, to be sure.

But I think this new article may be her best work yet, andthis comes from someone who once called her a “C***juggling Thunderc***” to herface.

Until now, I gave Amy the benefit of the doubt that she musthave some brains rattling around in that massive melon on top of her squatlittle neck- after all, she hasn’t publicly responded to my various slams, [thatis, unless you count all the times she’s posted anonymously on the NT forums]nor has she green-lighted any “hit” pieces mocking my efforts, despite herobvious desire to do so.

Sigh.

I’m starting to think that the indescribable magic we onceshared has flown the coop, and if I were to be brutally honest, that justdepresses me something fierce. However, every time I think that I’m out, NTpulls me back in, using only the allure of just being themselves.

Lucky for me, not so much for Amy when it gets right down toit.

The good ol’ PNT seems to be having a spot of trouble latelyin regards to it’s health, and while the economy is a valid factor, it’sclearly obvious that their death spiral is being hastened along by it’s embraceof high school level journalism and Amy’s abrasive management style - somethingI’ve been noting for months within my collection of electronic screeds.

Given NT’s long-running history of Phoenix bashing, this“new-found love” Amy claims to have rediscovered strikes me as being just a tadbit suspicious, and I have serious reservations about accepting it at facevalue, especially when the person overseeing it’s implementation lacks both characterand dedication.

Call me cynical, but if Amy personally told me that the skywas blue, I’d still stick my head out a window and check for myself. I’m notsaying she’s a liar, I’m just suggesting that she makes things up, like herinfamous travel “review” of Yuma, for instance.

No, I think it’s much more accurate to state that NT’srecent enlightenment might come from the fact that their bottom line is gettinghammered, both from falling ad revenue and abandonment by their readershipbase. Throw in Amy’s pathological needto deride her critics on the NT forums with all the tact of a pissed off sixyear old, and you can easily see why their credibility among Phoenicians hoverssomewhere just above nada.

Like all abusive relationships, you can only take so muchbefore you finally pack up your stuff and leave, so you’ll just have to forgiveme if I doubt her overall sincerity.

As I said earlier, Ijust love being a Prophet of Snark, especially when the pickings are this easy.So to kick off this particular bitch-slap, I’ll deconstruct Amy’s newest workof self-pitying fiction the best way I know how, using the patented Artbitchline by line response protocol.

Damn…doesn’t it feel good to be a Gangsta?
Yes. Yes it does.

ARTBITCHDISCLAIMER*:

"The following excerpts were and remainthe intellectual property of Village Voice Media Inc., with all rights reservedunder the applicable laws of The United States of America. Use ofsaid excerpts are for fair use parody only, and no profit usage has beenimplied or intended.

[*Not valid in Narnia, OZ, Wonderland, Neverland Ranch, or Hogwart’s.]

“Invite me to yourbook club meeting and tell me we're reading Ann Patchett’s latest novel, andeven if I've had that book sitting on my nightstand for months — even if I'malready halfway through it — suddenly I won't be able to pick the thing up.”

And all over the Valley of the Sun, the grating call of the “contraryon purpose” brat rings clear.

“Similarly, after 45 years, I know myself all too well: If I promise myself onJanuary 1 that I'll do the dishes every night before I go to bed, by the end ofthe first week of the year, you won't be able to get anywhere near my kitchensink without risk of an avalanche.”

Note to self: no matter how gracious they may be, turn down any dinner invitationsto the Silverman home, due to the strong possibility of drug-resistantsalmonella coating the banquet dishes.

“I'm just not good atfollowing directions, even my own. Particularly my own. And so most years, Idon't even bother to make a New Year's resolution, let alone keep it.”

For instance? She’s never vowed to restore journalistic integrity tothe New Times anytime soon.

“But 2011 wasdifferent. That year marked the 20th anniversary of my return to Phoenix, a place where I was born and raised, aplace I fled as soon as I was able. A place I returned to for two weeks in 1991and — well, you can guess the rest.”

We don’t need to… we read it every week with ever-sinking hearts.

“A place I never muchliked.”

S’ok. The feeling’s pretty much mutual.

“I like to tellpeople I have made my peace with Phoenix.”

And I like to tell them “I’m Batman!”… we all have our little quirks.

“I wrote a coverstory about it for New Times ("PhoenixHas an Inferiority Complex," May 12, 2005).”

I’ve been meaning to say thank you for that, but Hallmark hasn’t made theappropriate card yet.

“I've edited thepaper's "Best of Phoenix" supplement for years, and in almost twodecades at the paper have written dozens (hundreds? thousands?) of "Bestof" entries and, yes, I can tell you where to get the best steak or thebest martini in Phoenix,”

Wait for it, because using the paragraph above as a metaphorical shiv,I will soon make a valid point.

“but the truth isthat after all these years, I still had a grudge against my hometown.”

Christ… grow the f**k up and get over it already. Yes, yes… NYC dumpedyou and shacked up with New Jersey.It’s old news and you need to move on. Preferably the hell away from us, I’dsuggest?

“Enough, I thought,as 2011 approached. I'm not going anywhere.”

Son of a b***h. You dream big, you crash big.

“I'm tired of this.”

Once again, the feeling is entirely mutual, my dear Editorzilla.

“Why, I wondered, isit that when I go to cities like Manhattan or Portland or even TucsonI step off the plane or get out of the car and immediately begin romanticizingthe place? Why do I get all weak-kneed over Hotel Congress in Tucsonor the Bagdad Theater in Portlandwhen the Orpheum in downtown Phoenixis just as dreamy?”

I dunno, actually. Have you watched a lot of Lifetime movies?

“I've asked myselfdozens of times and I just can't figure out why a farmers market in a mallparking lot in Denver is urban and funky whenthe same thing in Phoenixfeels weak.”

Wait! Maybe it’s because you’ve read all the Twilight novels? Sorry...your sparkly Chucks made me think I was talking to a very weary and drearyfourteen year old girl. My sincerest apologies.

“But what, Iwondered, if I was forced to face that question every single day? What if I hadto come up with something - big or small or even really insignificant - that Iloved about Phoenixevery day. In fact, the less significant the better, because for me it's thelittle things - a cross-stitch in the elevator of the Portland Ace Hotel thatsays "If You'd Taken the Stairs You'd Already Be There"; the waycement always seems to sparkle in the San Francisco sunlight - that make a citylarger than life.”

Hmm. Let’s recap, shall we? Using Amy’s own words yet again:

“I've edited the paper's "Best of Phoenix" supplement foryears, and in almost two decades at the paper have written dozens (hundreds?thousands?) of "Best of" entries and, yes, I can tell you where toget the best steak or the best martini in Phoenix”.

But curiously, given all that, she hadn’t yet compiled a list ofvarious things that she already loved about PHX in all those years. Um…why theheck not? Has she ever bothered to readwhat she’s written, or is her self-pity so prevalent that it clouds her visionto all the good things that are inherent in this town?

That is the question I’ve been asking myself lately, and coming upflummoxed.

“So nothing big. Adaily affirmation of sorts.”

“Of Sorts” sums it up nicely, I think.

“Yuck. I've neverbeen one for daily affirmations. I don't stop to smell the roses, I don'ttiptoe through the tulips. The only time I ever stop to watch the sunset isonce a year, during our annual family trip to the beach.”

Wow. You are one out of controlbouncy superball of fun, let me tell you.

“But I didn't haveany better ideas,”

Did you ever? Sorry. I’m better than that. Actually, I’m not, come toreally think of it.

“thus, the I Heart Phoenix Project was born.These days it's (way too) easy to start your own blog,”

So not true. The written part is a real b***h, and don’t even get mestarted about the oral exam- I still have nightmares.

“so I did. I got on WordPress, chose a template, typed intheiheartphoenixproject and wrote an "about" section that concluded: “Myhusband and I are raising two daughters . . . and I'd rather share the lovethan the hate with them, even though I do believe a healthy dose of cynicism ishardly a bad thing.”

Gotta agree. My blog is living proof of that.

“This town could usea little TLC,”

And you should use a little THC to lighten the hell up. Just asuggestion.

“and that's what Iintend to give it for the next year. Maybe not every day. I don't want to setexpectations too high.”

Relax. We’ve never really expected too much from you, to be honest.

“But I do promise tocast no aspersions — not here, anyway.”

Cast? No. Do a half-ass job ofit? Definitely.

“My first post waseasy, a poster of a bear with a bloody heart designed by local artist Sebastien Millon, his own off-kilter tribute tothe city. I didn't admit that I actually was in Los Angeleson January 1 — not the most auspicious beginning to a blog devoted to loving Phoenix.”

True, but considering your past track record Amy, we’re not really thatshocked, either.

“I figured I'd writemost of my posts, but around that time I discovered the Hipstamatic app on the iPhone and suddenly it was more fun — and a lotquicker — to snap a photo and write a headline.”

Faux-Hipster technology to the rescue!

“For months I kept itup, documenting my path across town (which I quickly realized was far toobeaten) and forcing myself to find something every day that I love aboutPhoenix: the hand-drawn signs at Cartel Coffee Lab in Tempe; the kissing citrus mural at La Grande Orange; a fire pit at the Arizona Biltmorewhere you can make s'mores; Grand Avenue artist Beatrice Moore's crazy inedible wedding cakes.”

OK, my optimism is slowly rising over here….

“The task was simple;it took no more than a few minutes a day (and some planning) but quickly becamean annoying chore. I went on a walk around my neighborhood and shot severalthings (a mosaic water tower, a tin bird in a tree, a nearby railroad crossing)so I'd have a backlog, just in case.”

And there it goes, crashing intoAmy’s high school photo class as it plummets downward.

“I included many moreposts about "nature" than I'd anticipated — prickly pear cactusblooming; pansies in January; my secret love of irrigation. Even some prettyclouds on one particularly desperate day.”

This peaceful moment was brought to you by Calgon.

“By May, I wasexhausted.”

From what, exactly? The attempt at achieving competence?

“A rhinestone pin spelling out PHOENIX that I foundon Etsy buoyed my spirits a bit, but sitting in the parkinglot of the Celebrity Theatre, trying to grab a super-quick shot of a roundentertainment venue (try that with your iPhone) and still get to work on time,I questioned the worth of this whole thing.”

would it be rude to remind Amy at this point that it was her idea?

“Would anyone noticeif I quit?”

Yes. And as a related aside, no one likes a tease, Amy.

“If the goal was tolearn to love Phoenix,it certainly wasn't working. In fact, this whole experiment was beginning tomake me loathe the place in ways I'd never thought possible.”

Oh, I’m sure that isn’t entirely true, is it? Loathing is kind of yourniche, to be fair.

“But I'd made it fivemonths. I could do it. June was tough. It was hot.”

Some advice: next time, just reach into your soul and pull out a chunk of ice to cooloff with.

“But I hadn't yetmentioned the sand art from the original Biltmore Fashion Park or the sprinklessection at ABC Baking. When I snapped a photo of "The Bingo Hall Where IOnce Took Ballet Lessons" out my car window (I think the car was actuallymoving at the time), I knew I'd hit a low.”

C’mon… it wasn’t like it was your first time.

“The truth is, I wasalmost done. I'd taken just a few days off here and there all year, trying toschedule posts ahead when I was going to be out of town. But we were headed to San Diego for an entireweek in early July, and as we were packing to leave, I realized I hadn'tplanned any posts, didn't have any pictures in reserve.”

GASP! Being forced to act like a real journalist? How awful thatmust have been for you.

“July's 8 post didn'thave a photo, just "You know what I heart about Phoenix? . . . Our proximity to Southern California's beaches."

OK. I’ll have to give you amulligan on this one, since everyone knows I have a sand fetish.

“What a cliché,quitting at the most miserable time of the year. I didn't intend to quit when Iwrote that post. I figured that, at worst, I'd take the entire week off andcome back refreshed, ready to finish out the second half of the year. But itwas so deliciously freeing to not have to think about that goddamn blog thatwhen I got home, I just sort of kept not thinking about it.”

True dedication to one’s work. Brought to you by our very own AmySilverman.

“I gave up. Hey, Imade it more than half a year. I'd never come close to keeping a resolutionthat long. Plus, I figured, why keep going if it wasn't working? And itdefinitely wasn't working.”

Funny that you should say that, since if you keep grinding down NewTime’s reputation the way you have been over the last few years, eventually neitherwill you.

“A couple of weekspassed and, to be honest, I didn't think much about the I Heart Phoenix Project, exceptfor an occasional sense of relief.”

Actually Amy, that was just the Alka Seltzer talking.

“And then a funny thing happened.”

On the way to the Forum? Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.

“I was driving down McDowell Road and Inoticed the U-Haul building near 24th Street and Ithought about how the orange zigzag design on the side of the building looksjust like rickrack and how much I love rickrack, and I reached for my phone totake a picture.”

Rick·rack:n. A flat narrow braid woven in zigzag form, used as a trimming forclothing or curtains, and as far as I’m concerned, helps speaks volumes aboutAmy’s sense of style and taste.

“Then I remembered: Iwasn't doing the blog anymore. Don't get me wrong, I didn't care enough toactually start the thing up again.”

Wow. That really came right out of the blue, didn’t it?It’s exactly this kind of dogged determination that’s made NT the envy ofpapers you pick up for free at a Circle K.

“But I startled myself. "Wow," I thought."Without even trying, I found something I really love about Phoenix. And it was inthat organic way that an old sign on the side of a building in Brooklyn can make you stop and stare, or how the streetlights in Little Italy look like folk art. Okay, maybe it wasn'tquite like that, but it was a start.”

Seriously. Would you stop with the whole NYC thing? It’s patheticenough already.

“And it kept happening. Every few days,sometimes more often, I'd notice something that belonged in the I Heart PhoenixProject: the fried green tomatoes at FnB; a Collin Chillag painting on the wallat Lux; Dale Chihuly’s green glass agave at the entrance to the DesertBotanical Garden; Roosevelt Row’s field of sunflowers in downtown Phoenix.”

“I had failed, but ina small way I had succeeded, too.”

No… you totally failed. Crashed and burned. In a huge way. Please, justtrust me on this, would’ya?

“The new year is nowwell under way; I didn't make any resolutions for 2012. But last year's stilllingers. The other morning, as I rushed to get my daughter to school and get tothe office to write this piece, she shivered in her thin Old Navy fleece, complaining about the cold. "Don'tbe silly!" I said. "Think of all the people digging out of the snowin places like New York and Boston at this time of year. We're reallylucky to live here!"

I got behind thewheel and thought, "Did I just say that?"

OMFG!!! I’m like, a new like, person and stuff, who also needs to buy her kid a warmer jacket before she catches a cold. Like, totally.

“As we pulled out ofthe driveway and headed down the street, the sun was beginning to rise, and Inoticed the sky — streaked in shades of blue and orange Crayola hasn't yetnamed.”

I sense a possible career move!

“Even though we were late, I couldn't help myself. I had to stop to take apicture.”

God help us if her form of iPhone hipster app journalism is ever allowedto pass for artistic expression, since Lord knows it’s already S.O.P. at NewTimes… and it shows.

Competence. If only she had an app for that.

“Journalistssay a thing that they know isn't true, in the hope that if they keep on sayingit long enough it will be true.” – Arnold Bennett

Daze of whine and Poseurs PT.4 (Artists in Candy[ass]land)

2012-01-10T08:50:00.000-08:00

“I see myselfand many artists like me as the torchbearers through these dark ages.”
- John Zorn

HelloBlogiteers!

Itcontinues to be a simply wonderful day in the neighborhood, let me tell you,and not just because my house is well stocked with Ding Dongs and skim milk.

Granted, part of it has something to do with being asked to possibly host TheFirehouse’s FFNL show in May, but my overall feeling of warm fuzzy squishyhappiness comes courtesy of my last magnum blog, which chronicled the end of athree day long road trip to Yuma and the subsequent bitch-slap that I meted outto NT’s so called travel review of this charming little city.

Whenpeople have a different point of view and are willing to actually express itwithout hiding under the Internet’s bed, that’s when I absolutely love myEmail. Intelligent and civilized debate- it does make my life ratherinteresting, to say the very least.

Thistime around was no exception. After all was said and done, the total responsesdefending New Times or it’s Managing Editor, Amy Silverman was... Zip. Zilch. Nada. Claire Lawton on the otherhand, had close to fifteen supporters.

Itseems that Claire possesses a strong and innate ability to make (and keep)actual friends, whereas AmySilverman in contrast- seems to have no such personal knack. I’m starting tobelieve that the only way* she could make and then conversely keep, a friend isif she snuck up behind a total stranger with a chloroform-soaked rag, and thenproceeded to imprison them in her basement.

(*Allegedly,of course, since Inall honesty, I don’t know for sure if she even has a basement, so I’d hate totalk out of school.]

Butenough with the Schadenfreude for now, this blog is all for, and all about- theArtists. In two previous blogs, I gave my insiders’ advice about two crucialcogs in the PAS (PHX Art Scene), the Patrons and the Galleries.

Reactionswere mixed, to say the very least.

Whowould have guessed that suggesting we should adopt a business model approach inregards to the PAS might be considered somewhat incendiary? Not I, naturally,mainly because it happens to be COMMON F*****G SENSE. No other industry I canthink of so willingly shoots itself in the head in the manner of a suicidal cowas much as this particular scene does.

Yes,yes… I’m being a tad bit curmudgeonly, but I’m also right, and I’m pretty sureI can prove it yet again. For instance,the last FF opening I attended was located at Willo North Gallery where theywere showing new work by artist Steve Gompf and sculptor Hank Fries, and it wasgreat.

It’swhat a typical PHX Gallery could be if it decided to… you know… grow the hellup.

Ohyeah- I said it.

Granted,while a facet of my career is dependent on Galleries, it’s not entirely so, andtherefore, I’m not too worried about whose nose gets bent out of shape on thisone. Something has to change in regard to the marketing and business aspects ofthe PAS, and soon- or we’re all gonna be wearing flannel shirts, living in *Portland, and makinggod-awful tofu shakes before you know it.

[*Nooffense to Portland, but this city is responsible for being the spawning groundof god-awful indie-rock audio suckfesters, The Dandy Warhols, and I just can’tforgive them for that anytime soon, nor should Ireally be expected to.]

Butas usual, I’m getting a tad bit ahead of myself, so let’s return to Willo,where I was privileged to meet my “FB Friend” Marshall Shore in the flesh, inconjunction with making the acquaintance of the very delightful Kate Nolan, theformer Managing Editor of the Phoenix New Times.

Surprisingly,as Amy’s former boss, she didn’t want my head on a plate, and we had a quitepleasant chat on the subject of the newspaper and magazine industry, and bestof all; I got some incredibly useful feedback regarding this blog from severalkeen and intelligent readers.

Itseems that I’m both funny and snarky… who knew?

Apparently,I’m not dead sexy, but I’ll take what I can get.

Overall,a very cool night with very cool people in a very cool space, and that’s whatthe PAS needs, NOT the rolling street party that FF has become- a solemn factthat was ardently stated to yours truly by more than a few people inattendance.

However,this situation is not wholly the Galleries fault- after all, they’re just acomponent of a much bigger system, one in which Artists have a lot moreinfluence than they think. As I once solemnly wrote: “There is no Art Scenewithout Art.”, and that is why the Artists easily have the edge in taking thereins and steering this so-called scene into actual prosperity.

Allthey have to do is get over themselves first.

Ofcourse, for that to happen, they would have to actually give a damn about theirfellow Artists, and that’s where the Phoenixscene gets seriously screwed. If apathy were porn star hookers, the PAS alonecould supply Charlie Sheen for the rest of his life, which theoretically, couldbe anywhere from twenty minutes to fifty years.

Yes,I am aware that I’m being somewhat expansive here with the tar and feathers,and for that, I must apologize to some of you. However, to not condemn thepitiful level of indifference I’ve witnessed over the last few years among someof my fellow Creatives would smack of hypocrisy.

Butbefore I get into some long overdue advice for my fellow tribesmen, theArtists, I’d like to introduce you to someone not affected by the malignancythat underwrites our scene and truly does put his money where his mouth is-Alexi Devillers.

Web:http://www.facebook.com/people/Fish-Liptz/100002260682386

Cel:480-567-6666
Email: Fishliptz@Yahoo.com

Ifirst met Alexi when my GF Ashley and I went downtown for Phoenix’s monthlyThird Friday Art Walk, where he was selling Tin Can Artworks that were craftedto look like dogs, crocodiles, sharks, and my personal favorite- robot menlamps. Ok that all sounds pretty neat, you say- but it’s actually the reasonbehind Alexi doing what he does, that’s the really inspirational part.

Inhis own words: “The proceeds from the sale of my Tin Can Artworks go topurchase more food. From which I then make more Tin Can Art, so I can purchasemore food for the homeless. Both of my parents are from HavanaCuba,before Castro took over. They settled in New York,but later moved to Hialeah, Florida when I was five. Beingone of five kids, my mother had to stretch every dollar, but one thing I remember is that she alwayshad more than enough food for all of us.

We had great food full of flavor and you could taste the love that went intomaking it. As I got older and learned to cook, I started to give my extra foodto the neighbors. After a while, I thought that my neighbor didn’t really needthe food, started giving the extra food to the homeless.

Ona Saturday, my wife and packed up all of our leftovers and went to the parknear our house and fed the people who lived there. We started out with twelvemeals on that Saturday, and then the next Saturday, we bought 24 frozen dinnersand cooked them in our oven.

Then I thought…”I can make as twice as much food, better- and for half theprice, if I make it from scratch.” So now every Saturday, my wife and I get upat 5:30 AM and cook 100 to 125 hot and fresh meals. We then pack them up intothe back of my Ford Explorer and head off to the parks.

Recently,we have found a shelter on 10^th Avenue and Jefferson that helps outpeople who are 55 and older. I try to make fun meals for them, meals that arehot and homemade.”

Thatright there my loyal Blogiteers, is one truly selfless Artist, which is why I’mthrowing mad Artbitch props his way, and letting you know that if you want todonate to his cause, be it canned food or money, please contact him using theinfo posted above to do so, or go one step further and acquire one of hisamazing creations just like Ashley and I did.

BTW, our Robot’s name is “Campbell”, he’scopper, he’s retro, and he’s awesome.
Just like Alexi.

Butto be brutally honest, “awesome” is not how one in the know would describe theoverall manner of the PAS, in regards to it’s ongoing preservation and futuresuccess. Swear to all that is holy, if I overhear one more whiny faux artposeur rant that “true Artists don’t care about money”, I’m gonna prove theirtheory erroneous by creating a couple thousand dollars worth of necessarydental work for them to pay off when we bump into each other again.

Obviously,I’m kidding.

Violenceis not the answer, change for the positive is- although it’s sort of comfortingto know that random mindless carnage can still be a fallback option just incase that whole shiny happy vibe fails to work it’s magic.

Again, I’m obviously kidding… somewhat.

In my 2008 blog; “Thank God it’s First Friday”, Isuggested some simple guidelines for my fellow Artists to observe. Withoutcompletely rehashing, they were:

1) Quality IS job one.

2) Presentation- try it, you'll like it.

3) Professionalism is never done half ass.

[Link:http://waynemichaelreich.blogspot.com/2009/10/thank-god-its-friday-parts-one-and-two.html]

Good rules of thumb all, but there’s always roomfor improvement, and fortunately- I’m not alone in this belief. On my personalFaceBook page I asked my fellow creatives the following question:

“I'd like toknow what you think PHX Artists need to/should do in order to create a morefinancially stable scene to work within. Not gallery suggestions, this is forthe Artists alone, thank you.”

And the responses came flooding in. Some were identical toopinions I’ve been espousing for quite some time, some were approaches Ihonestly hadn’t even thought of. So, in the spirit of fostering an open andcivil discussion, I am turning over the floor to my fellow Creatives.

I’ve also included links to their respective websites, soafter you’re done reading my latest magnum opus, I’d recommend that you gocheck out what they’ll all about. You’ll be glad you did.

RyanAvery: “Art buyers shouldn’t fearspending money on art they love. Artists should be willing to sell their moreexpensive pieces through payment plans & installments.”

[http://ryan.thegoodshows.com/]

TonyBlei: “My suggestion would be to findways to build value into your product, focus on building relationships bymaking people feel important. Unfortunately, people in Arizona don't give methe time of day. I’m more popular in New York, France and Germany.”

[http://www.tonyblei.com/]

Debra Jones: “I reallydon't think people in the West realize that a PORTRAIT is not always aphotograph. You picture takers are all welcome to your own art, butinstitutions and businesses and homes and schools should work hard to find aplace for the traditional art of portraiture. I have a talent not a mysteriouszap from the gods! I just want to work.

I am going to be a little contra here. Iproduce small and affordable. I believe everyone (down to Picasso endorsing a$10 check) can produce to the market they target. I agree that it is mostlymarketing. But again, it is educating the public. Most of the non-artists Iknow actually FEAR First Friday for the dark circus they have experienced andbeen scarred by ONCE.

It is not howto market some piece of art to be adopted into a home. Public needs supportiveinformation, and artists need to not be competitive. ONE sold piece admired bya friend of the purchaser is marketing. Coops and helping each other is great,but we HAVE to move outside the ART community. I wasfantasizing a day of walking around to businesses, looking quite normal,passing out portfolios and introducing myself saying "YOU now know a realartist!"

We are peoplewho make things they need. To isolate and attempt to be flamboyant only buysinto our difference. Sure, we are very unique and valuable, but we function inthe same market as the plumbers and lawyers. We are small business people andneed to take ourselves as seriously.

For me art ismore like drugs. I really mean it. Doing art has always superseded any money(HAH) and "getting back" to it is where the ability to crawl into mystudio and never come out is what tends to create more of the money problems."If you build it, it will stay in your studio and become a fire hazard,UNLESS you tell them where to COME!"

[http://www.debrajonesart.com/]

RandyKinkel: “I wantto work and get better at it and I want to sell my work. In my experience, (andI include myself in this) most artists don't really know how to market theirwork or themselves, who to target, they (we) aren't thinking like businesspeople. I think you can do that within the artistic realm and not have to sellout or sell your soul. the gallery model does not work anymore, for most of us.I would love for someone who knows how to do these things and has had successat it to give a workshop or something for interested artists.”

[http://randykinkelart.blogspot.com/]

JoeJankovsky: “Ithink make art affordable by producing prints. No not 'giclee' please.Woodcuts, linocuts, serigraphs, intaglio, photography. The GermanExpressionists did this very thing to make art more affordable to regularfolks. Limit edition sizes and don't give them away either. $30 to $50 perprint could work. Maybe do some co-op print press thing --find an affordableused printing press and charge artists time on it to pay for the space to houseit.”

[E-mail:thesingingprint@gmail.com]

PaulJones: “I'vealways liked the word "juxtaposeur." Flip through themagazine Juxtapose from 10 years ago while walking around a First Friday andpick a random painting out of the lineup and try and imagine it as a naivenewborn kitten who's lost it's mother, and ends up following around a dog trying to bark,not knowing its whole life it's a fucking cat and that could serve as onepossible introduction to this theory.

Any way youlook at it, Phoenix is the new kid on the block, and behind 10-100 years in itsart scene (depending on medium, I meant to say) compared to the rest of the bigcities of the world. The sad part is, no one tells it.”

[http://smilepaul2011.blogspot.com/]

DeusEx Machina Gallery [In response to Paul]: “There is a recognizable school of art thatPhoenix has spontaneously generated, the results of decades of creative work byindependent artists operating under the radar. It is not a bland repetition ofthe kind of the international postmodern style that has strangled art intocultural irrelevance.

We are notbehind, and it's not happening 10 years from now-it has already begun. SeeJanuary 2012 "A Young City in An Ancient Land," at the Trunk Space.”

[http://sites.google.com/site/improbableart/]

LuisDaniel Gutierrez: “Ok.Maybe we stop focusing on sales and get back to the love of doing. All this"woe is me stuff" is a financial killer, for sure. I think, We needto make stuff that is Badass and is stuff people can't imagine themselvesliving without. We are contemporary artists and as such, need to be workingwith the world in mind and not just our broke ass community.

The place is abreeder of new Art. Not all babies are cute but we gotta agree everybody lovesa brand new baby. The possibility of new life is precious. That is what Phoenixart scene provides, a fresh new lab for creativity to grow.”

[http://www.luisdanielgutierrez.com/]

I readily admit that I truly respect all of the opinionsgiven on the overall situation, and by and large, I agree with most of what’sbeen stated above, albeit with a negligible tweak or two.

A positive attitude can do wonders, and that- along with awhole new approach to the business model of the PAS, might possibly arrest thecurrent malaise that afflicts it. The one unwavering commonality I seethroughout the various remarks is this: while the creative process is key, itdoesn’t amount to a hill of beans if you can’t turn a buck doing what you loveto do.

GASP!!!!!! Did I just suggest that MONEY should be aconsideration in how the PAS operates?!?!?

You bet’cha, bucko. It’s about time the PAS gets over thisarchaic art school mindset of “money is so beneath us”, and instead adopts anattitude of professionalism, like a real business would. The cold hard realityis that until we willingly do this as a whole, no one of high merit can orshould, ever take us, this scene, or our innate talent seriously.

I’m not implying that we don’t have some amazing Artistshere, I’m flat out saying that our business acumen is fatally abysmal.Naturally, I just might have a fewsuggestions regarding this unfortunate (yet fixable) situation.

In my previous writings, I’ve offered some pointed guidancein regards to how Artists ought to deal with Galleries and our so-calledPatrons. This time however, my thoughts are all about how we as an artisticcommunity should market and sell the fruit of our labors, the end result beinga solid base of financial stability within the PAS.

And yes, it’s going to be just as exciting as it sounds,because in my humble opinion, nothings sexier than sitting around and talkingshop- especially when it’s all about making a respectable living doing what wewould normally do for free.

Woof. I’m truly tingly all over. I may actually need somealone time and a cigarette.

Like I said, nothing is sexier than talking shop, so let’sget to it.

I’ve neveractually bought anything at K-Mart, but I do like their pretty blue lights.

The definition of layaway: A payment plan in which a buyer reserves an article ofmerchandise by placing a deposit with the retailer until the balance is paid infull: I bought asuit on layaway.

Given the past history of turbulence between Ryan Avery andI, it’s kind of nice that we both agree on this one. Artists really should makebuying their work as easy as possible, even if the stated price range is out ofa potential Patrons’ financial comfort zone. Hence, the concept of layaway,which I’ve presented as an option to my clients for the last several years.

If you want to own one of my pieces, I’m gonna find a wayfor you to buy it whatever it takes, and that right quick. Unless I’m trying tocollect source material for a future sculptural mixed media work entitled “DustBunnies”, my art really doesn’t do me any favors sitting unsold in my studio.

I really don’t care how long someone takes to pay off apiece of my art, I’m just delighted that they bought it. What's more, it’salways useful to have some cash trickling in, even if it arrives in smallincrements. My bills don’t stop just because the commissions do, and when youfactor in the cost of my daily Ding Dong habit, I really can’t afford the luxuryof kicking back.

Like most overbearing stage parents, I want my kids to leavethe damn nest and start sending me support checks, and if I were to be brutallyhonest- I’d rather all those were paid in one nice lump sum. However,understanding the fact that I work in an industry that serves a want, and not aneed, I really can’t afford to be too choosy- and neither can the PAS, when youget right down to it.

Unless something has changed recently, art supplies stillcost money. So does rent, food, electricity, car payments, booze, healthinsurance, ammunition, really good drugs, clothing, cable, internet, cellphones, and Ding Dongs.

Especially Ding Dongs.

Answer me this- it’s a cream filled, chocolate covered,hockey puck of sinful goodness- why the heck are they so damn pricey? Is thechocolate mixed by waterfall and then harvested by musically giftedOompa-Loompas?

A question for another time, I guess.

Getting back on point, maybe certain elements of the PASwant to starve to death for the sake of an outmoded sense of artistic nobility,but I sure as hell don’t, and neither should anyone else who’s serious aboutmaking Art their chosen career, and not just an after work hobby.

Money buys opportunities. Money buys options. Money buysartistic and personal freedom. If you doubt this, just think of what famous(IE: rich) people are allowed to get away with in this society.

Being a successful anything buys you a boatload of breathingroom, and just because you really like making money, it doesn’t mean for a NewYork minute that you’re a sellout, or that you’ve gone and bastardized yourprinciples for the sake of making a buck.

[This ofcourse does not apply to Thomas Kinkade or Shepard Fairey, both of whom possessthe integral artistic strength of microwaved Velveeta.]

I create commercial work to fill my coffers, I craft fineArt to fill my soul, and at the end of both of these varying processes, I’mstill an Artist, no more, no less. In order to pay the bills, I chose to adapt,rather than sit and whine in my darkened studio about how malicious the worldis.

Money greases the gears of business and life, and it alwayswill. Money doesn’t give a damn about how talented you are, or how wondrousyour artistic vision is, all it cares about is how much more you can make ofit. Yes, it’s unfair, heartless and rather narrow minded, but it’s alsoreality.

You can become a DeusEx Machina, using your acquired influence to force some positive changes,or you can waste vital energy attempting to chip the paint of an unrelentingjuggernaut which will eventually crush you and your spirit.

Speaking from personal experience, it’s a heck of a loteasier to throw a spanner in the works from inside the machine. As anadditional advantage, it’s also a much shorter distance to chuck that sucker,and that’s always a good thing, I think.

Andy Warhol once said: “Making money is art and working is art and good business isthe best art.”

Usingthat quote as a base for comparison, I’d have to say that the PAS is batting oneout of three- we may be working, but we surely aren’t making money- andbusiness is definitely not good.

IfI were in charge, and the PAS were a horse, I would have had it rendered into acase of Elmer’s Glue Sticks just so I’d possess something tangible from thisscene that could be considered truly useful. And no… I’m not going to apologizefor that slam anytime soon, unless it’s to an actual horse.

[Feelfree to insert your favorite Frau Bleucher joke here.]

We need to adapt, we need to explore other well-establishedoptions for making it easy and desirable to purchase our art, and we need to doall of this sooner than later. Not as random individuals, but as a unitedwhole.

Or we can stay noble and artistically pure, follow thestatus quo, and slowly starve to death. You know… just like “real” artistswould do.

Leggomy Ego…

OscarWilde once glibly stated that: “To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance.” This is a sentiment that I can get behind 100%, andnot just because it’s cross-stitched on one of my studio couch’s throw-pillows.

What this quote has alwaysrepresented for me as an Artist is quite simple: believe in yourself, even when no one else does- and you’ll eventually have the sweet satisfaction of provingthem wrong. I’ve always truly believed that you shouldnever allow yourself to publicly validate any inner doubt about your talent,mainly due to the one question that will eventually arise: if you don’t trustyour abilities… why the hell shouldanyone else?

No one ever bets on theunconfident horse or business, and there’s a very good and logical reason why-they rarely win, because they’ve been hobbled by their own self-doubt. Being aprofessional Creative requires a thick skin and dogged determination, along withan ability to self-delude on a level that Sarah Palin on her best day couldn’teven begin to touch.

And those are two of the bestqualities that an Artist needs to succeed, far as I see it.

To be fair, there have been manya day where my Ego far outpaces my aptitude, but that’s spot on of most peoplewho work in this profession. The reality is that if it weren’t for my oversizedsense of self, I’d be one of those sad colorless drones wearing a name tag,working in a tiny ass gray-lined cubicle poring over spreadsheets, and prayinghourly for a quick and merciful death.

Speaking from the vantage pointof a non-stop self promoting machine, I find that it’s imperative tocontinually keep the furnaces stoked as it were. If Artists want to be taken ascommercially viable, then they have to do their best to keep those firesburning, and continually self-promote.

In a place like the PAS, thisneed to do so is crucial, due to the lack of two things: quality galleries andprofessional representation for Creatives. I never pass up the chance to talkabout my work, or if the rare need warrants- someone else’s.

Save your cynicism. I have been known to throw someone deserving a bone everynow and then, believe it or not. Come to think of it… save your off-color jokesfirst, then save the cynicism.

Call me naïve, but I still findit astounding how many Artists fail to see this as an important skill to learnand/or master. Along with all the other talents that your discipline maydemand, this ability to market yourself is too critical to deride as pointlessEgo stroking, just because it asks you to pass out a few cards and make somesmall talk every now and then.

There isn’t a moment in my life when I’m not within easy reach of my digitalportfolio or business cards, and theoretically… this might include the timewhen I’m sleeping. True opportunities are manufactured by the Machiavellian,and seized by the swift.

In other words-you snooze, youlose. And as a rule, I hate to lose at anything, especially when it comes to myown personal goals. Now, as you can imagine, this minor tendency of mine tonetwork nonstop does sometimes get misconstrued as undiluted egotism or atworst- purely unbridled narcissism.

It’s neither, actually. Whatever you maythink, it's not about ego. Really. If it was ego, I'd be telling you about myawesome... oh, never mind.Once again, what I do is more ofa want, not a need, and is therefore easily dismissed when viewed as part ofthe much bigger picture of life.

Art and it’s numerous creatorsrarely get the respect they deserve from your average Joe Six-pack when itcomes to the true value of such creative endeavors. If you have atalent, don’t hide it under the proverbial bushel- show it off.

If you’re so inclined to exude false modestyand remain an unknown when instead you should be strutting around like aglittered peacock and attracting the success you’ve earned, that’s yourpersonal call, and I won’t dissuade you.

But you’ll also put aside theright to any future bitching about your lack of achievement when you’ve donenothing to bring attention to your life’s work, because I will call you on it,mercilessly- and often. Nothing aggravates me more than someone who complainsabout their problems, while simultaneously doing zip to affect a more positiveoutcome regarding their situation.

Unless you step into an errantpuddle of dumb-ass luck, no one will ever know what you do unless you tellthem. And in order to do that, you have to also be out and about, hence thereason why it’s pretty well known in the PAS that I’ll show up to the openingof a cereal box.

Art openings and Gallery eventsare key to your possible success, because these twin events will put you incontact with the people you need to connect with, that being your fellowCreatives as well as their patrons, which is a winning prospect where a careeris concerned.

No matter what, I NEVER stoptrying to make vital connections.

Granted, I can be somewhatinsufferable and intense regarding my chosen livelihood, but I honestly dobelieve that there is NO such thing as bad publicity, since whether they loveme or hate me, at least they’ll be talking about me, and that’s what counts.

Taking up space in someone’s headfor free- you just gotta love it, since the best hype will always come fromyour worst detractors. Why is that, you ask? The answer is simple: because theyin turn, will never cease bitching about you. It’s sort of like having your ownartsy version of the Truman show.

When you inspire that much venom and/orjealousy in others, it stirs the rest of the herd to become exceedinglycurious, and that inquisitiveness is quite easily manipulated if you’re savvyenough to take control and ride the wave.

Case in point?

The “Hi, My Name is Ryan”documentary I co-starred in. The only person who’s ever seemingly profited offthat thing so far is me, as the film has no distribution deal at this time.However, while I can’t even acquire a personal copy due to various ensnaringlegalities, I did make damn sure to milk the experience for all it was worthwhen it was making the rounds of the festival circuit.

Hell, the only reason I did themovie was for the exposure, and it paid off in buckets. I still get E-mailabout it, and I was only in the damn thing for nine minutes. Everybody loves abad guy, and thanks to that hardwired quirk of humanity, I was able to fattenmy bank account for nearly a year.

I’d rather be thought of as araving Egomaniac, rather than be labeled a talented near-miss, any day of theweek. As someone famous* once said: “It ain’t bragging if you can do it”, andafter 150 shows, I’m pretty sure I’ve got that base covered, more or less.

[*I think Yogi Berra may havesaid this, but I didn’t have the time to check the ol’ Google. Have at it!]

Opportunity seen, is opportunityseized- and to be truly successful, you must understand that it is absolutelynecessary to present your best sales pitch at some point, whether you like itor not, and that's what stops people from networking effectively most of thetime: the fear of failure.

However, while this is a valid concern, it doesn’t have tostop you. You can fall down ten times, provided that the number of times youget back up is at least eleven.

Keith Haring once noted on the process of creation: “When itis working, you completely go into another place, you're tapping into thingsthat are totally universal, completely beyond your ego and your own self.That's what it's all about.”

Beingpaid to do what you love to do simply by getting your name out there? In mymodest opinion, that possible reward is worth taking the risk. You can alwaysdecide to be really humble after you’ve made it.

Woof.I don’t know about you, but I am kind of tired.

So,let’s take a break here and go get some rest.

Andwhen I come back…

Playgroundrules. Art Cliques. Michelle Laudig covered in honey, and the Artbitch FieldGuide to spotting Critics.

“BusinessArt is the step that comes after Art.”- Andy Warhol

Yuma and Back Again PT.2 (The Mean Girls Club)

2011-11-23T18:00:00.001-08:00

"Every mean thingyou do comes back and hits you twice." -Alyssa Holcomb

Hello Blogiteers, and welcomeback to the neighborhood- the word for today is nice. But what does it meanexactly? Webster’s defines the characterization of nice as: Pleasant in manner;good-natured; kind. Three attributes the Artbitch has in buckets… well, accordingto my Mom, anyway.

All kidding aside, I actually can be a decent human beingevery now and then, but “pleasant” is usually not the first adjective that certainpeople would reach for in order to describe yours truly, and that’s ok.

As you might have guessed by now, the self-absorbed andlimited opinion of people I don’t respect doesn’t really carry water with me. Moreover,it never will, since as a rule- I’m much more impressed by what someone does,rather than by what they say.

Talk is cheap, it’s action that’s priceless.

Besides… when it comes to those particular people, they all havea way about them that seems to declare: "If I have only one life to live,let me live it as a jerk”, and so far, I’d have to admit that Amy Silverman isdoing truly admirable work in that department.

When I started writing this story arc, my original intentionwas to split the well-deserved derision of NT’s Yuma article betwixt Amy and her loyal pet,Claire Lawton. You know me… I like to shoot at the tragically obvious. But as I wrote it, thefocal point kept coming back to Amy, rather than the both of them, and there’sseveral good reasons why.

Despite her hipster attitude, and the small fact thatseveral of her colleagues have privately voiced the belief that she couldn’tjot down a phone number without the help of an adult, Claire is generallyconsidered to be a rather pleasant person by those who work with her. Essentially,she’s the human equivalent of a warm glass of milk, and in my personalexperience, just as brave.

And according to most of her defenders, Claire isn’t the trulyspiteful one in their co-dependent relationship- that honorarium falls squarelyon Amy.

As an addendum, I’d also like to point out that none ofClaire’s fan club has challenged my assessment of her ability to write, theyjust like to note that she’s really a nice girl who’s seemingly getting theshort end of the stick, and most likely will be thrown under the bus when Amyno longer finds her useful.

Granted, that might be somewhat truthful, but given the way thatshe writes, one would logically assume that she’s a “journalist” in the same waythat Dr. Pepper is a “Doctor”- nevertheless, I’m fairly certain that her fellowcolleagues at NT don’t refer to Claire as “Hefty Bag” the moment her back isturned, like they allegedly* do with Amy.

[*In recentyears it hasbecome common forwriters to include allegedly in statementsthat are controversialor possiblyeven defamatory.The implicationis that, bysaying “allegedly”, the speaker is distancing himself orherself from thecontroversy and even protecting himself or herselffrom possible prosecution.

However, the effect created may be deliberate.

The use ofallegedlycan bea signal that,although the statement mayseem outrageous,it isin fact true:“She was unpleasant at work. Allegedly.”]

That’s right… Amy’s alleged* nickname at New Times is “HeftyBag”. I’m not sure why, but it seems vaguely appropriate. Trash in, trash out,as they like to say. Plus, it’s also the only one I can repeat here withoutusing a whole lot of asterisks.

Until NT’s past (and present) employees started feeding meinformation about her, I honestly didn’t know that so many descriptive vulgaritiesactually existed within the context of the known English language.

As a Tourettes’ afflicted GI Joe would say: “Knowing is halfthe ******* battle!”

Sorry… just couldn’t help myself. And apparently, neithercan Amy. In past blogs, I’ve alluded to my belief that rather than having a fewscrews loose, all of hers are fastened way too tight, and while it might seemto be a flippant observation, it’s a fairly accurate one, according to those unfortunatesouls who have to interact with her on a regular basis.

Since she took over the reigns as Managing Editor six yearsago, NT has been hemorrhaging qualified writing talent along with the respectof the local community, at an astronomical rate.

Like everyone else, I’ve had my share of bad bosses, and becauseI’m an eternal pragmatist, I’m not going to lay all the blame for NT’s woes onAmy. However, she’s definitely a continuing and very critical aspect to thepaper’s overall decline, especially where the writers exodus is concerned.

As I have noted previously, the talent jumping from the deckof the Phoenix Titanichas been huge: Lillia Merconi, Michelle Laudig, Martin Cizmar, [no big loss,actually] Steve Jansen, Wynter Holden, and Sarah Fenske, just to name a few.

To be fair, some have been promoted to other positions (outof state, I might add) others have quit, but NT scuttlebutt suggests that Amy’sabrasive style of management was a factor in some of their decisions to do so.

My numerous sources have regaled me with tales of Amy’soutbursts at NT, and when I consider that a career woman pushing fifty and nota child approaching the age of six could possibly be accountable, my mind justreels with the absurdity of it all.

There are rumors of screaming rants directed at her writers,along with a multitude of other boorish and immature behavior that so far, defieslegal description. Keep in mind that this woman inspires parties at which herpast/current employees dress up a Porky the Pig piñata with a frizzy blondewig, tell their worst “working for the pig” stories, and then beat thecardboard effigy into pulp afterwards.

Amy Silverman… bringing people together.

In a backyard the hell away from her, according to thegrapevine.

Allegedly*.

To be honest, while it’s ever so much fun to metaphoricallybitch-smack my preferred self-loathing butterball of Ego around, the mainpurpose of my little screed today is to continue on with the saga of my recenttrip to Yuma.

Which I promise to do… right after two more small highlightsof Amy’s intolerant pettiness.

My blog. My rules. My good time.

Trust me, they’re good, but first, please permit a smallpersonal observation on my part. When I first met Amy, I walked away from that distastefulexperience with the notion that she was a few beans short of a burrito, that isto say- I thought she was “Nuts”.

However; it’s just not that simple a classification. Afterdoing my research and talking to those who’ve interacted with her both sociallyand professionally, it’s become quite clear to me that she’s not crazy, she’sjust out-and-out mean.

Now, while this is a somewhat annoying characteristic let’ssay where a child is concerned, it’s an absolutely pathetic quality when it’s possessoris an adult. Especially one who controls a large medium of potential influencesuch as a newspaper, or in Amy’s case- NT, AKA: “The Pennysaver with Porn”.

Over the last few years, NT has slowly been death spiralinginto the ground, an act hastened by the gradually more hostile actions of a ManagingEditor who has cheapened the quality of writing, degraded her staff, and in theultimate abuse of her position, regularly goes online and attacks her papers’readers.

And I’m not talking about the “Letters to the Editor”section, which is the only legitimate place a person in her position should beposting replies to their reader’s concerns. No, I’m talking about the commentssection that is to be found at the bottom of every online article on the NTwebsite.

I used to think Martin Cizmar was a tad bit obsessive abouttaunting his detractors, but he can’t hold a candle to Amy, no way, no how. Needan example?

Follow the posted link, and read the article in full if youwish, but the real fun is below the story, where Amy derides anyone with acontrary opinion, expressing an attitude best suited for a p***ed off twelveyear old, not the journalism professional she claims to be.

Enjoy… I always do.

Link: http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/2011-10-20/culture/in-chaos-theory-xii-the-decent-art-easily-stands-out-among-the-rest/

As if this unprofessional and immature exchange wasn’t badenough, several of NT’s readers have previously called Amy out for thehypocritical act of posting incognito on her own articles. That’s right- whilelashing out at NT’s readers who choose to post anonymously, she consistentlydoes just that, in a wretched display of Ego justification.

Double standards, pettiness, immaturity and unmitigated spite- she’s obviouslya class act. And in my small and humble opinion, she’s still exceedingly tickedoff about being the Managing Editor at NT, apparently considering her promotionas some form of unfair burden.

Writing about how she felt about her new-foundresponsibilities, she once summed them up as such:

“I was still smartingover my transition from staff writer (read: rock star, at least in my littleworld) to editor (roadie) [SECTION EDITED FOR CONTEXT] before I had ascrewed-up kid and they put me out to pasture.”

Link: http://girlinapartyhat.com/index.php/2010/07/goodbye-and-good-luck-sarah-fenske/

Wow. A “rock star”? With all due respect, my poorly deludedEditorzilla… you were NEVER a rock star, and therein lies the glue of deceit thatbinds your pathetic ball of self loathing together.

Plus, kudos on your sensitivity for describing your child in such a maternal,and I might add- highly public way. When your other kid gets old enough toeventually go online to see what Mommy writes about, and she will, rest assured,I’m sure she’ll really enjoy reading what you wrote about her sister.

Urk. Gah.

My flesh just absolutely crawls every time I read that self-absorbedparagraph. It’s one thing to be an unprofessional cow to almost everyone youwork with, quite another when it involves your own flesh and blood, with littleto no regards for their feelings.

The way she acts, it’s like she’s still stuck in highschool, and is going to make damn sure that everybody pays for not electing herstudent body president. Several people have at various times, labeled Amy as a“mean girl”, a definition I was rather unclear on, despite the self-explanatorytitle.

I am a guy after all, and we tend to be somewhat thick attimes. So, what exactly is a “mean girl”?

Definition: "The label "Mean Girls" is a tween expression used to describegirls who exhibit anti-social behavior known as Relational Aggression. The termwas popularized by the movie MeanGirls, starring Lindsay Lohan.

Mean girl behaviorincludes gossip, verbal put downs of others, bullying, backstabbing, and usingothers to get ahead. Girls who are friendly one minute, and mean the next, theyare particularly good at turning friend against friend, and they target girlswho they are jealous of, or who stick out from the crowd.

Mean girls thrive ondrama, and often resort to cyber-bullying to torment their victims."

Hmm… does this remind you of anyone? I thought so too,except that when it comes right down to it, I’d rather be trapped in anelevator with a drunken Lindsay Lohan than a sober Amy.

At least the forced conversation would be interesting, ifnot the scenery.

I’ve never experienced anyone who seemingly enjoys being insensitive,uncouth, and just plain disagreeable as much as she does. Willfully ignorantpride- that’s what I like to see in a fully functioning adult, or in this case,a spiteful wannabe poseur.

Overall, I gotta hand it to her-she is consistent, even ifshe does assume that being a triple platinum plated b***h is an actual talent.

Interestingly, one of the things that I have observed inrelation to my dealings with current/past NT employees is that despite theirunderstandable detestation of Amy, they were somewhat reluctant to discuss theirexperiences working with her… at first.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were sufferingfrom *NTPTSD.
(*New Times Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Fortunately- when it comes to getting people to open up, I possesssome serious skills. Usually, it involves having to prove that I’m not out tothrow them under the bus, which is easier said than done, especially whenyou’re dealing with those poor souls who’ve worked alongside Amy.

For when you write on a subject such as this, one mustseparate the wheat from the chaff, the vetted from the vendetta, the good fromthe bad, as it were. The following story I will soon share fits the bill, andit’s just one of several I’ve been told regarding Amy’s juvenile behavior.

What strikes strange, is that so far, not one person has attemptedto defend Amy in any way, shape, or form. Not one co-worker. Not one friend.Not even her husband. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

Even Martin Cizmar had a defender or two, and he’s… well… Martin Cizmar.

In my judgment, that speaks volumes. When you can’t findeven one person willing to stand up and defend your character, perhaps it’s theclearest sign you really need to go get some. Given this fact, it’s probablynot surprising that I have yet to meet anyone who willingly claims to beexceedingly close to her- I’m not saying she doesn’t have several close friends,I’m just saying that those people have probably never been informed of thisalleged reality.

And herein lies the beginning of a tale.

One of my favorite sources at NT shared the interestingobservation lately that Amy and they were in fact, ”good friends”, which cameas a total shock, due to the small fact that this person absolutely loathesher. It seems that anytime someone actually tolerates her presence, she apparentlyassumes that they must be BFF’s or something.

To quote my source: “I’vebeen at her house like three times, and the only reason I go is because she’smy boss. And don’t get me started on the way too personal crap she says atwork, either. I swear to God if I hear her say: “You didn’t hear it from me”one more time, I’m gonna punch her in the face.”

Solid as a rock friendship- it’s truly a beautiful thing,especially when the other person isn’t even aware of it. Or worse… is.

At the end of October, I was contacted by no less than threeNT insiders who shared the following account with me regarding a former NTstaffer who was also “friends” with Amy much in the same way I’m Claire Lawton’s ”boyfriend*”.

[ *That was a joke, by the way. She already has enoughproblems, I think.]

Some time ago, when this individual worked alongside Amy, they,like most professional colleagues, exchanged Christmas gifts, and normally, itwouldn’t really be worth mentioning when you get right down to it.

But remember, this is Amy Silverman we’re talking about, andwhen it comes to anything she’s involved in, normal is kind of a stretch, tosay the very least.

Now, when this particular person left NT, apparently theywere still on good terms with Editorzilla, at least to her face, that is. Ihappen to be a big believer in honesty, but when you might still have to dealwith a future career reference whose obviously faulty wiring is just lookingfor an excuse to go off, justified or not, it’s best to err on the side ofcaution, and keep your trap shut.

However, that means that you also need to be careful aboutwho you talk to in private as well, since your words could travel up river tothe wrong set of ears, and if that happens, you’re gonna get seriously screwed.Evidently, this well deserved concern was foremost on this former reportersmind, for when I asked them to open up about their experiences working at NT,they e-mailed me back, saying:

“I'd rather notcomment on NT right now -- it's just so nice to finally think and talk aboutother things! I'm enjoying great support from my friends and peeps like you,and it's inspiring me and giving me momentum for the next step in my life....

Thanks for the link to your blog! Fun reading indeed, so I'll have to stop backto read more (damn, you are prolific!).”

Granted, they somehow forgot to mention that I’m also very easyon the eyes, but because I’m the milk of human kindness, I’ll let it slide thistime.

Eventually, they wound up telling a friend (or two) what theirhonest opinion was in regards to Amy, and when Editorzilla heard about it, shewas not pleased, to say the very least. But that’s the big problem with havingto play verbal cat and mouse games in the shadows- ultimately, you’re gonna runinto a rabidly feral pit bull, and it isn’t gonna want to play nice.

Obviously, some feelings were bruised, and she just had tocraft a rejoinder. So, how does a mature adult in this day and age go about respondingto what they may feel is an undeserved, and possibly harsh affront, you might ask?

For instance, would you: go all old school and write a heartfeltand personal letter, or go all new school and send a heartfelt e-mail? Maybeyou’d make a rather terse phone call, or perhaps, you might take the initiativeand just drop by their home for a face to face discussion to air your grievanceinstead.

But remember, this is Amy Silverman we’re talking about, andshe’s got a style that’s all her own.

Well… hers, and maybe your average fourth grader. Allegedly,of course. Keeping past immaturity in mind, Amy’s knee-jerk reaction really isn’ta shock to those of us who’ve come to know and despise her, even it’s just froma safe distance.

Rather than rely on any of the typical and expected routesto settle her issue, she just tore a page out of the mean girls playbook, andran with it, by returning all of the Christmas gifts her former

co-worker had given her… in August.

For those of you counting, that’s eight months later, waypast your typical exchange time slot.

I don’t know about you, but I rarely, if ever, return gifts, even if they’refrom someone I loathe. When my fiance and I broke up several years ago, I didreturn all the stuff that had our names and/or the words “forever” etched onthem, but I did keep all the jewelry she’d ever bought me.

Yes, she turned out to be untrustworthy, but Daddy likes hisshiny baubles, and he ain’t giving them up anytime soon. I have to wonderseriously about anyone who does something like that, especially when they’renot currently dating the person who ticked them off.

Amy Silverman. Class act. Mean Girl. Allegedly.

But what isn’t alleged, is that when it came to Yuma, Amy was just deadwrong there, too. At this point in our narrative, nothing that she had writtenabout this charming community has been even remotely true, according to mypersonal experience.

Distorted, fictitious, and imprecise to be certain, but factual?Hardly. This doesn’t come as a shock really, since it’s a widely-held belief inPhoenix that NTis basically the flipped mirror of FOX News, albeit with dumber reporters.

Out of context “quotes”? Check. Fabrication of facts? Check.Refusal to answer their critics? Check. Personal opinion masquerading as journalism?Check, once more. If Egotism is the anesthetic that dulls the pain ofstupidity, then Amy and NT must be metaphorically stoned 24/7.

So for those of you who might need a recap of the last blog, here goes theCliff Notes version: my GF Ashley and I arrived in Yuma where I countered NT’s deceptiveclaims about the local Hotel availability, mocked Amy and Claire’s sense ofdirection and inability to spell the simplest of words, reviewed an excellentand funky restaurant, dispelled the myth of a “bad” neighborhood, and endedwith a visit to the Historic Yuma Territorial Prison, which also comes highlyrecommended, despite my life long ambition to stay out of jail in general.

In short- a surprisingly good time all around, so far. Butthere’s more fun to be had, and just like last time- I’m going to compare theNT article against our experiences in Yuma,and try to pretend to be shocked that they’re so vastly different.

Junk in the Trunk,Closet, and Suitcase.

From the NT article: “There is only onereason to drive all the way to Yuma- and we can't tell you much about it. It's a junk store at 315 Main Street that shares a cashregister with the shop next door. The store has no signage and no businesscard, and after Wednesday, just one Brownie camera for sale. We scored theother one for $5. It's a great spot, filled with rusty campaign buttons,vintage glassware, and funky antique furniture that made us wish we had moretrunk space.”

Ok, this descriptive paragraph actually threw me for a loop, because exceptfor that first inaccurate sentence- NT actually got this part right. It’s ok…I’m kind of freaked out too. But to be fair, even a broken clock gets it rightat least twice a day, and this funky store had plenty of those, along with anewly acquired chunk of my disposable income. Pop culture, my old nemesis.

So after some thought, I’ll give this one to NT, but iftradition holds… It’ll soon come back.

“And it didn't evensmell like old people, like most of the junk stores on Main Street in Yuma.”

See? Here it is already. But once again, this slur is not that surprising,especially when you consider that the co-author of this sentence once impliedin a personal blog that she feared the elderly. That must have made those Sundayvisits to Grandma’s house awkward to say the very least.

“Anyone who's tried tonavigate a city using a travel article knows the potential pitfalls. (Tryfollowing Thomas Kohnstamm's Lonely Planet guide to Columbia,(which he later admitted to updating from his desk in San Francisco)”

Which is worse, kids- updating a well researched travelarticle from your desk, or just outright falsifying an entire unsubstantiatedop-ed critique out of ether and air? Your call.

“And if you've written one, you know allthe tricks: Focus on just a few highlights, don't mention the empty lots or thefact that while that restaurant serves excellent tamales, their chips have areputation for always being stale.”

In other words, if you’re NT and discover something really positive about acommunity during your veiled assassination attempt, ignore it entirely and hypethe small negatives therein by emulating FOX News’ “fair and balanced” approachby making sure you’re neither.

“Make sure you have areally good photographer along.”

Which of course, NT neglected to do when they traveled to Yuma, due to the small factthat their “journalists” are also expected to perform double duty as “photographers”.To note a sardonic positive, these wannabe hacks shoot pictures almost as goodas they write articles.

“In other words, rub the stone a bit. We get that. But after reading Sunset'shomage to Yuma,we had a feeling there was some turd polishing going on.”

If there’s anything being polished here, it’s NT’s ongoing feeble attempt tomaintain it’s credibility as a legitimate newspaper. I don’t recall ever seeingthe classless phrase “turd polishing” in the New York Times, for instance. Butthen again, maybe I’m expecting too much from a paper that has to be given awayfor anyone to read it.

House Party.

So, after leaving the prison, we headed over to the Sanguinetti HouseMuseum which is the sister to where myGF Ashley works as a Registrar, the ArizonaHistorical Society.

Listed on the National Register of Historic Places theSanguinetti House Museum was constructed in the 1870′s, and was purchased in1890 by pioneer merchant E.F. Sanguinetti. He added to the home as his familygrew and created an Italian oasis with a garden and bird aviaries, which aremaintained today.

The house tells the story of the time with the exhibits anddisplays pertaining to the history of the lower Colorado River region from the 1540′s to the present, and just like ourprison visit, it was both entertaining and educational- the grounds alone areworth the visit. On the day Ashley and I visited, the garden was being preparedfor a wedding ceremony, and it was a beautiful sight.

Peacocks, doves, a wedding party dressed in 1920’s vintage, whitelawn chairs- the whole works. I’d recommend that Amy visit, if it wasn’t forthe reality that exposing her to something cultural is akin to giving KryptoniteSpeedos to Superman.

For Art’s Sake.

After that delightfully historic interlude, we then stoppedto eat at Tacos Mi Rancho, located directly across from our hotel, enjoyingboth excellent customer service along with some absolutely killer enchiladas inthe process. Deciding to walk off the twelve extra pounds we acquired at lunch,Ashley and I headed downtown to check out Yuma’sart district, which NT summed up like this:

“we found thenot-so-special arts and pottery galleries Sunset recommended that were full ofpinch-pot bake ware and glaze-heavy mugs. We later wished we would have grabbeda stein before heading to the artist co-op that was so enthusiastically toutedit was embarrassing. At least it occupies a retail space on the vacancy-ridden Main Street.

In fact, the only line we saw extending past a front door was outside of theMexican consulate. And the only businesses with full parking lots were lawfirms (one even took over the historic United States Postal Servicebuilding). We yearned for downtown Mesa.”

"Wow" doesn’t even begin to cover the inaccuracies containedwithin, or the inherent backhanded racism. Since it’s rather obvious how NTregards individual creativity, their review of any artistic space must beconsidered highly suspect, especially when they neglect to actually mention whythey thought the touted co-op wasn’t up to snuff.

Pottery studios generally make well… pottery. Mugs, cups,steins, bowls, etc., practical items whose elegance lies in their simplicity.They’re not supposed to be Chihuly masterworks, but they’re not youraverage run of the mill high school ceramicists’ works either.

What’s more, Main Street wasn’t exactly “vacancy ridden”- there werea few empty spaces, some up for rent, others in the process of being renovatedfor future tenants, hardly the economic wasteland that NT described, thereality is that what was being represented is a city in the process of transition.

Moreover, since Yuma is only 15minutes from Mexico,NT’s observation of the Mexican Consulate’s popularity was no more than a racistcheap shot, one of two bigoted slurs that were contained within their xenophobictravel review.

As an aside, NT’s claim about the USPS building was challengedon the NT forums by one Steve West who stated the following: "And the only businesses with fullparking lots were law firms (one even took over the historic United StatesPostal Service building). " God I hate idiots... that is not a law firm inthe old post office, rather a global leader in the Crop Protection business.Leave it to boneheads with a hard on for someplace to not bother and check ontheir facts.”

In NT’s limited defense Steve, getting it wrong is truly their niche, andthey do it better than anyone. Besides… true facts just get in the way of a goodcock-and-bull story.

Saturday in thePark.

“Sunset raved about a new park built onthe old town dump, but to be honest, we'd rather let our kids run up and downthe aisles of the Target just off the I-10, given the deserted slums we had tonavigate to finally find the park.”

Geez. When NT starts to dig a grave, they’ll just keep going until they hit China.

Earlier, I called attention to one of two racist slightscontained within NT’s article, and now I’ll address the other one, hopefullymaking a point or two along the way.

West Wetlands Regional Park is located in anarea of restored wetlands which also serve as an active recreation area. Astatue memorializing the 1st Iowa Volunteers also known as the Mormon Battalionis found on the well designed walking trails, along with the APS Solar Garden,which ably services all the electrical needs of this picturesque recreational areacourtesy of our buddy, the Sun.

Designed by Leathers and Associates Playground, a 40 yearold firm with over 2500 projects under it’s belt, this park was planned withfull involvement from the community and especially the children, whocontributed the idea for the amazing castle/jungle-gym that is it’scenterpiece.

A 17,000-square-foot kingdom for the kids of Yuma- in simpler terms,that’s more than three acres of playground. Somewhere, a four year old's headjust imploded from sheer awesome joy.

I know mine did, as I had to be physically restrained fromgoing and playing on it.

Several times, in fact.

Damn… Ashley’s a heck of a lot stronger than she looks, letme tell you.

On the night that we went, there were several families ofall races enjoying the park. Cute kids were climbing all over the castle,whooping it up in general, and the overall atmosphere evoked a Norman Rockwellpainting. All that was needed to make it even more idyllic was a pickup truckwith a dog in the back.

Ooops. Spoke too soon. There it is. My bad.

But here’s what raises my hackles something fierce. Ashleyand I walked around the neighborhood that surrounds the park for close to anhour, and as we strolled, one fact became glaringly evident.

I’m from New York City. Native born and raised. I KNOW a slum when I seeone, and If that part of town was a “slum”- it must have been in disguise,because all I saw was your average middle-class neighborhood. Clean yards, nicehouses, no loud parties, no lawn couches, no derelict cars, and mostimportantly… no Zombie horde.

Something rings false here, for if that community was truly a“slum”, then I, a middle age white guy carrying close to $2000.00 worth ofcamera equipment, should have been picked clean faster than a bottle ofOxy-Contin at Rush Limbaugh’s house.

But I wasn’t.

Interestingly, this locale does have something in commonwith the other reputable neighborhood that NT trashed in their article. Whatwas it, you ask? Both areas seemed to be exclusively Latino, and while I’mhoping that’s just a coincidence, it does provoke a query. If the motivationwasn’t veiled racism, then why would NT characterize these perfectly ordinaryneighborhoods as “slums”?

I’ve been in Scottsdaleboutiques that were more hardcore than either of these places, so what exactlydid Amy and Claire run into? Other than their own pre-established conclusion,that is.

We walked through on a Saturday night, and the few times weencountered residents, all they said was “hi” or “Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous outtonight?” Clearly, we were dealing with some old school gangbangers, and were exceedinglylucky to get through unharmed. That was a joke of course, but my curiosityabout what’s wrong with Amy has been seriously piqued.

My guess was that she couldn’t find a Sephora, and that justfreaked her the Hell out, so hence; she was in a “slum”. Disturbingly, the onlyother possible alternative is that she harbors a strong dislike of the cinnamonpeople. Allegedly, of course. But I’m hoping that’s not it.

To help foster that optimism, I’m gonna take the high roadand attribute this literary xenophobia to her being the Charter President ofthe local Mean Girls association. Due to the fact that NT’s verbalrepresentation of Yuma was nothing more than an obvious cheap shot, one couldsurmise that it has Mean Girl written all over it.

Specifically one who wrote her review from the safety of herrental car.

Allegedly.

Last Train to Coolville...Population? Us.

On our last day, Ashley and I woke up, had breakfast at theLanding, and then decided to finally check out Yuma’s much touted Riverfront project, andjust like most of our trip so far, we were pleasantly surprised. The river wasawesome, the park along it’s banks was beautiful, and once again- it was anidyllic scene.

Walking in the shallows, we knew why this project had becomeso popular. It’s freaking gorgeous, and a definite positive for the community. Fordecades, Yuma had sought to reconnect the localcommunity to its most precious natural asset -- the Colorado River. Although widely recognized for its historic importance asthe YumaCrossing National Historic Landmark, the downtown riverfront had becomeblighted from divided and complicated ownership, industrial uses, and disuse.

After many years of planning, Yuma was able to transform the formerly wreckedriver into a breathtaking home for a brand new Hilton hotel, along with a corporatecenter and recreation area.

But the best part? Next to the Hilton sits a 100 year oldLocomotive. That you can play on. And it makes awesome train noises, too. Finally,I got to “drive” a train. And while I am truly sorry about shoving thatadorable four year old to get at the controls, I still maintain that he shouldhave gotten the heck out of my way and that his Mother needed to calm down.

Besides- he’s young, and that arm will eventually heal intime.

On that end note, we took our leave of Yuma, relaxed and a little more enlightened,which is more than I can say for Amy and to a limited degree, her loyal pet,Claire. Given every opportunity to defend their misrepresentations, they have insteadchosen to hide while ridiculing those who would dare to mock theirfabrications, their elitism, and their lack of character.

Speaking only for myself in regards to my experiences, andon the strength of those alone, I’d have to seriously call bull***t when it comes to the honesty of NT’srepresentation of this charming little community. As I stated in my last blogabout their journalistic credibility: “I’mnot calling them liars, I’m just suggesting that they make stuff up.”. Thatunkind opinion still stands, strengthened by my exploration of this city, andmeeting it’s people, who were warm, friendly and full of local pride.

Ashley and I do plan on visiting again, and I would stronglyrecommend that you holiday there as well. We had an excellent time, found plentyof interesting things to do, while still managing to squeeze in a whole lot of muchneeded and relaxing down time.

It’s a shame that Amy and Claire didn’t even bother to tryseeing Yuma thesame as we did, but then again… they’re chock full of something else, and itsure isn’t integrity.

Cowardice, spite, xenophobia, and just plain meanness, perhaps- but notintegrity.

Truly class acts all the way.

Allegedly.

“Idon't think you can compromise, news either has integrity or it doesn't. Iteither is accurate, balanced and fair or it isn't.” – Richard Parson

Yuma and Back Again PT.1 (An Artist's Tale)

2011-10-19T00:30:00.000-07:00

“The critic has toeducate the public; the artist has to educate the critic." - Oscar Wilde

Hello Blogiteers!

From the quote above, I guess it’s obvious that we’ve takena slight detour from my ongoing series regarding the Phoenix Art Scene, whereinI have been offering gentle and kindly advice for the three subgroups thatcomprise our so called culture: Patrons, Galleries, and the Artists.

Now, this blog wassupposed to contain some temperate suggestions for my fellow tribesmen theArtists, but due to a promise that I made several months ago, that particularslice of snark will have to wait to be served.

Don’t worry, kids.

I will get back to picking apart the fairly obvious as soonas possible, but I have a few things I need to get off my chest first, and fora change- they’re gonna have a positive spin. Very positive, in fact.

I know… I shock even myselfsometimes.

Some time ago, I wrote a blog called “On the Road with Amy & Claire. (With apologies to Bing and Bob)” asa reaction to yet another steaming pile of elitist condescension that waspublished online as well as in the print edition of our local Pennysaver withPorn, AKA: the Phoenix New Times.

Co-written by PNT’s Managing Editorzilla Amy Silverman, andher preferred pet Claire Lawton, it was a so-called travel review of the Cityof Yuma, and if one was to diplomatically affix a description to their narrative,they might be tempted to label it as extremely one sided.

Other adjectives I might use to describe this review couldbe: unwarranted, vicious, xenophobic, ageist, and deceitful, but I think theworst sin of all is that it just seems so obviously pre-written to many of thosewho’ve read it.

Read the link below, and then make up your own mind. Goahead… I’ll wait.

[NT Link: http://blogs.phoenixnewtimes.com/jackalope/2011/03/a_sense_of_yuma.php]

As I noted in my “CharacterStudy Part Deux” blog, this article generated close to 100 comments when itappeared in the “print” version of New Times, but when previously available onthe “web” only, it garnered over 300.

It also created an uproar in Yuma, where shockingly, the community didn’tappreciate some of the elitist and ignorant generalities stated about theirhometown. Of course, this prompted New Times to do what they do best- doubledown on the controversy. So they reprinted the whole slander in the weeklyprint version, preceded by this statement:

“Editor's note: AMarch 11 post on our culture blog, Jackalope Ranch, got so much attention in Yuma — a front page story in the YumaDaily Sun, airtime on the NBC television affiliate, talk of a billboard indowntown Phoenix— we decided to share it this week in print.”

They decided to “share” it… ain’t they just the sweetest?Naturally, I just had to respond on the PNT forums by posting the following:

“Close to 300 commentsblasting New Times on the original post wasn't enough of a "hint" forEditorzilla and her loyal pet- they needed to do it one more time.

Not a statement or anapology, this reprint is nothing more than an arrogant stand against anincreasingly dissatisfied readership base who has been complaining vehementlyas of late, due to the lack of quality writing, inaccurate reporting, and unprovokedattacks on the people, communities and culture of Arizona.”

So as you can imagine, some major heat came New Time’s way,and how did our terrible twosome explain themselves? In a statement to KSAZ FOXNews TV 10, they explained their arrogance with this craven backpedal:

[Link: http://www.myfoxphoenix.com/dpp/entertainment/travel/yuma-travel-destination-3-23-2011]

"Our issue iswith Sunset Magazine, not Yuma.Yuma is what itis. While it might be a nice place to live, we haven't ever viewed it as atourist destination and after visiting last week, we still don't."
- Claire Lawton and Amy Silverman, Phoenix New Times"

Hmmm. Something rings false here… what could it be… I know-other than the fact that Amy Silverman uncharacteristically gives Claire topbilling, shades of her thrown under the bus future perhaps, maybe it’s thesmall fact that the article only seems to directly insult Yuma, and NOT Sunset Magazine?

Go ahead. Read the article again, and see what I mean.

Some days it’s like shooting moose in a barrel with thesepeople- just when I think that Amy and her flying monkeys couldn’t possibly doanything more asinine, it’s like she drives up in her bedazzled wannabe wagonand unloads a whole bunch of beautifully wrapped gifts at my doorstep.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she just really wantsme to do well, which is more than I can say for New Times’ recent overall health.Recently, Village Voice Media [NT’s Parent Company] issued layoffs across theboard, resulting in the firing of one of my favorite reporters and the virtualhamstringing of another in regards to what and how much they could write.

But there are even more intrinsic problems within theunhappiest Queendom on Earth…

The tablet size is getting smaller, the ads are getting morenumerous, and the writing keeps getting exponentially worse, as the writingstaff now only has three full time reporters [there used to be twelve] and thebalance is comprised of a mixture of inexperienced interns, somewhat practiced freelancers,and totally green bloggers.

Did I mention that the print edition of NT is also startingto read like a blog? Not like this one of course, since the majority of myreaders are capable of reading beyond a paragraph or two, and as an aside- whenI write something funny, I don’t have to subtitle it as “humor” under thebyline, like NT has to do in regards to their website.

That can’t speak well of the quality of your content when youhave to tell your readers the nature of what they’re about to read. To be fairhowever, sometimes that’s the only way you can differentiate between thearticles. One might tend to think that all those Arizona Press Club Awards that NT likes tobrag about so much aren’t really helping, since overall- principled journalismis seemingly dying on the vine.

Hastened by the erosion of corporate ethics, most newspapersthese days pander to the lowest common denominator in favor of profits oversubstance. Case in point: Amy and Claire’s road trip to Yuma, fueled by acidic spite and undeserved elitism.

As a rule, I tend to see things in black & white- it’sjust the way I’m wired, and taken as a whole, it keeps my life fairly uncomplicated,which is just the way I like it. But after visiting Yuma, it would seem I owe Amy Silverman a verysincere apology.

Sure, in the past I’ve referred to her as “Editorzilla” andstated that she a was a “c**k juggling thunderc**t”, along with saying that shemight possibly own a Dalmatian farm just so she’d have puppies on hand to eat, butI might have been a tad bit hasty in my assessment of her character.

To be brutally honest… I was just dead wrong about Amy. Iftruth be told, I think I may have completely underestimated her, and missed theproverbial mark by miles. After spending three days and two nights in Yuma, and using my ownexperiences as a baseline for comparison, I can only conclude the following:

AMY SILVERMAN MAY BE A MUCH BIGGER B***H THAN I ORIGINALLYGAVE HER CREDIT FOR.

Boy… is there egg on my face or what? More often than not, yours truly isreally good at pegging people correctly, so you can just imagine howembarrassed I’m feeling right now. It’s downright mortifying, let me tell you.

After all, while it’s one thing to suspect that someonemight have a few issues, it’s quite another to know for certain that you’ve beendealing with a fully stocked magazine stand right from the start.

Writing about a meeting I endured with her once, I describedthe ending of my unfortunate encounter with the tongue in cheek description of:“when you’re that close to crazy”, but this off the cuff depiction is somewhat inaccurate,I’m afraid.

It would be more apt to claim that rather than having a fewscrews loose, all of Amy’s are seemingly fastened way too tight. As regularreaders of the ol’ PNT know by now, there’s a consistent tone leveled at thecity of Phoenix,and it isn’t one of friendliness.

The Pennysaver with Porn that Amy is slowly death-spiraling intothe ground is blatantly hostile towards the community it conducts business in,and it all stems from the personal sense of failure and self loathing that shecarries, and then dumps on us. But like most craven bullies, one victim wasn’tenough to satiate her Ego, and she needed a new one to go bitch slap.

Scottsdale? Toorich to pick on. Tempe?Nope- that’s a good chunk of their advertising base, so they’re hands off… fornow. Mesa? Noone would care, and she needs that controversy to drive up ad revenue. Flagstaff? Too pretty andpopular, in my opinion. Tucson?Possibly the same reason as Mesa,or maybe she just hasn’t gotten around to it yet.

So what major city was left that could stir up the controversy she required,and yet be far enough away so as not to negatively impact their ad revenue? Theanswer for Amy’s dilemma came courtesy of Sunset Magazine in the form of atravel article about Yuma.

And thus begins our tale.

During the initial firestorm over NT’s article, I receivedthe following E-mail from Ann Walker, Media Director of the Yuma Tourism Board:

“Hello dear Artbitch,

I know that Our Fair City has come late to the party — dragged kicking andscreaming courtesy of the so-called “review” of Yuma by Amy and Claire — but Ijust wanted to let you know that we are, in fact, in attendance.

The local paper iswriting a story about this little dustup tomorrow ... we’ll see where thatleads.

In the meantime, be sure to let me know if you plan a visit. I’ll behappy to take you out for warm beer, cold food and lousy art.

Regards,
Ann”

Ann A. Walker
Media Relations Specialist

Now with an invite like that, how could I resist? And thus,a three day vacation was planned, to which of course, Editorzilla was invited.Thrice. Shockingly, she didn’t take me up on it, despite my generous offer thatshe could stick her head out the window the whole way.

To add insult to injury, she also posted on NT’s FaceBookpage that I “really wouldn’t go”, which I find rather hypocritical, for reasonsI’ll get into later.

So, um… Amy? Nee. Nee. Nar. Nar. :P

I went, I stayed, I enjoyed, I relaxed by a crystal clearpool, the same one that Amy depicted as being green in her article. And as anhomage, I walked the path of my favorite hack Editor, retracing her steps thatwere laid down in the NT article.

Along with my pilgrimage, I also made a point to go off thebeaten trail and see what Yumawas really like. In other words, unlike Amy and Claire- I actually made aconscious effort to see what was outside the comfort of my air conditioned rentalcar.

Because while I may be caustic, I believe in being fairly honest,and that particular quality gets me into more trouble than anything else, sinceat the end of the day, I’d rather be right than liked.

My belief has always been that the only thing that peoplewill truly remember you for is your depth of character, so you’d better makeyours a good and solid one.

Three guesses as to what I think Amy’s just mightbe.

In the interest of full disclosure, when I was invited tovisit Yuma byAnn Walker, the only thing I knew of the city was what I had seen in Westernsplaying on late night TV. There may be a chance that some of that informationmight be a tad bit incorrect.

However, I didn’t know that several of my favorite films had segments filmedthere, among them Stargate, Spaceballs, Tank Girl, and of course… Return of theJedi, which brings up a special aside to George Lucas: if I ever meet you,you’re getting punched in the face for that whole Ewok subplot.

Repeatedly.

While I was armed with all that obviously relevantinformation, my GF Ashley and I still had no idea what to expect as we pickedup our rented Nissan Versa (s’ok) packed with all the luggage, snacks, and sandwichesthe back seat could hold (lots) and headed out on our three and a half hourdrive.

So for the sake of clarity, I’m going to compare the NTarticle against our experiences in Yuma,and let’s start with the first thing we did: checking out the local lodging.

In the NT article, Amy and Claire wrote the following:

“Now, if someone would rehab the Hoteldel Sol on Third Street,just a couple blocks off Main, that would besomething special. The place, built in the 1920s in a Spanish ColonialRevival style looks like it put Tucson'sHotel Congress to shame back in the day. It's been placed on the NationalRegister of Historic Places, but it's also boarded up and abandoned, leavingthe Best Western as pretty much the only choice for lodging. “

While I agree with the sentiment about the Hotel del Sol, asit is an amazing building; I have to call bulls**t on the rest, due to a few glaringomissions.

The Best Westernwas the only choice for lodging? Hardly.

Other than the fact that a 28 room Hotel is less than ½ ablock away and it’s sign and façade are CLEARLY visible from the Hotel del Sol,Amy and Claire somehow missed it. Originally, built to service the railroadengineers working in Yuma, it has been owned by the same family for over 75years, and it’s caretaker is named “Red” a very nice man who filled me in onthe history.

But there’s one more fact the NT article doesn’t tell you.

As of 10/15/2011, www.Tripadvisor.com lists35 hotels in the Yuma area, many of which are National Chains, such as Hilton,Motel 6, Clarion, Radisson, etc., five of which had signage that was highlyvisible from the Interstate.

Seriously- I discovered six just walking around, so the obvious question wouldhave to be: how much research did our dimwitted duo actually attempt beforethey left Phoenix,or was this just a convenient omission of facts?

I’ll let you be the judge of that, I think.

Ask questions, you learn stuff.

Guess that was never taught in the journalism class boththese faux news-gals took.

I don’t buy thedescription of the Best Western, either.

“Even if Bob Hope did slumber there onceupon a time, we never will. We couldn't get past the green pool.“ SinceI’ve already pointed out one falsehood, let me move on to another possible one. Yes, Bob Hope DID stay at the Best Western Coronado- heck, even NT can get one actual fact right every now andthen, but if that pool was green, then I’m a tiny ballerina.

We stayed at the Coronadofor the duration of our visit, and from the rooms to the parking lot- thatplace was clean with a capital “C”. A personal insight: I happen to be a neatfreak, and I couldn’t find anything wrong with this hotel. At all.

Co-owned by the delightful Yvonne Peach, the Coronado boastsan excellent and informative staff, fluffy towels, free internet, super comfy kingsize bed, well appointed room with kitchenette, amazing bathroom with a waterfallshower head attachment, and much to the delight of my Historian GF, an onsiteMuseum featuring the history of the BWC (very cool) and as I said earlier- acrystal clear swimming pool.

[Info- http://www.bwcoronado.comor call: (928) 7834453, you’ll be glad you did.]

Considering the source, I’m gonna grant this one a passbased on the question of integrity alone.

Given Amy’s travel sensitivity, I’m starting to think thatshe would go to Disneyland and complain thatthere’s a six foot tall rat just walking around the park with seven freakishlytiny men.

Now, after checking into our suite, Ashley and I took sometime to catch a quick nap before heading out to have dinner at yet anotherplace that Amy and Claire panned, The River CityGrill.

[Info: www.rivercitygrillyuma.com]

Located less than two blocks from the BWC, Amy and Clairesummed it up as thus:

“we drove around town in search of the River CityGrill, another Sunset recommendation. When we finally found it (we don't thinkthis is a neighborhood Sunset's readers would want to venture in after dark, oreven in the light) the place was manicured and cute enough, by Yuma standards.

The food - described in the magazine as "eclectic with the spices" -was edible. But barely worth driving a few blocks, let alone a few hundredmiles. The River Wrap, the "owner's favorite," was huge andwell-plated, but bland.

And the promised curryflavor in the chiken dish we ordered was just okay. Blame the place's clean,yet very Pier One atmosphere for its reputation as the City's "cool"restaurant.”

Once again, there are a few observations that I need tocorrect.

Hey Dimwits… everheard of Google Maps?

Despite the fact that the RCG is less than two blocks awayfrom the BWC, our wretched “Tourons” had to drive all over town to find it.Ashley and I took all of three minutes to zero in on the location by doing thiswacky thing called “asking somebody”.

I know. Sometimes we’re just too damn clever for our own good. It’s a curse.

Won’t you be myNeighbor?

Granted, I know that being from NYC might give me a slightedge in surviving your average urban jungle, but there was NOTHING remotelyunsafe in regards to the community surrounding the RCG.

Overall, it was no different than walking down Roosevelt Row on an average Saturday night, begging mycuriosity at what exactly freaked out Amy and Claire that bad- the surroundingarea was quiet, clean, and completely devoid of any skeezy atmosphere.

If there was a problem, Ashley and I didn’t notice it, and Iwould surmise that neither did they. I’m not calling them liars, I’m justsuggesting that they make stuff up. Perhaps it was the mind numbing fear of theimaginary that drove them over the edge that night.

Does someone needsa good “wrap” upside the head?

When it comes to eating out, I am one picky Artbitch. Godhelp you if I’m disappointed, because I will complain a great deal, if I thinkit’s justified. To be completely fair, I do understand that restaurants can gooff the rails every now and then, but when Ashley and I dined at the RCG, theywere hitting nothing but grand slams that night.

From the appetizers to our main course, every note wasperfect. Excellent quality, first-rate presentation, and remarkably reasonableprices, and the wait staff was outstanding, to boot.

Asking rather disingenuously whether it was worth driving afew hundred miles to eat there is not really a fair question, in my humbleopinion. No reasonable person would drive 3 ½ hours for a meal that they could possiblyget in their hometown, nor would they be expected to.

Having said that however, I think the RCG is an exceptionalfirst choice for dining when one is vacationing in Yuma, and it comes with the Artbitch stamp ofapproval. When I return, it will definitely be on the menu again.

Hey Dimwits (PartTwo)… ever heard of “spell check”?

It’s “chicken”, not “chiken”, and I know I’m splitting gnathairs, but does anyone at NT actually bother to proof read the articles beforethey’re published? I’m sorry- I know it’s just the OCD talking, but this kindof causal sloppiness just aggravates the hell out of me.

A short walk off along Pier…

With all due respect, would Amy and her hipster pet Claire ever allowthemselves to be caught dead inside a Pier One? I seriously doubt it. If onewere to be honest, the apt description of RCG’s interior would fall more underthe description of funky, rather than the corporate blandness that has been ascribedto Pier One.

I for one, thought it was pretty cool. But then again, Ihave a sense of style.

It came as a package deal with my intelligence.

Good Eats.

Sadly, I didn’t get to check out the other two restaurants named in thearticle, Das Bratwurst Haus and Lute’s Casino. Not because I couldn’t findthem, but because when I did, I was stuffed full to the gills from eatingeverywhere else.

While I was exceedingly curious about trying the hotdog/hamburger sandwich served at Lute’s, when it came right down to it- Ichoked like one of our local sports teams. Next time when I go, I promise to put on my big boy Underoos andjust wolf that sucker down.

But not until I get the all clear from my cardiologist, ofcourse. Moving on…

So, after some fine dining, Ashley and I took a brief strollaround the downtown area noting various things to check out the next day.Rising early, we had breakfast at The Landing, a cool airplane themed localrestaurant, and then went and checked out the main tourist attraction, the Yuma Territorial Prison.

Seated on a commanding bluff overlooking the broad Colorado,the prison was nicknamed “Hell on Earth” by it’s inmates, but dubbed the wrylysarcastic “Country Club of the Colorado”by the local townspeople for the fact it had one of the early electricalgenerating plants in the West which furnished power for lights and ran aventilation system in the cell block.

Schooling was available for convicts, as well as a hospital,and it housed one of the first "public" libraries in the territory- thefee charged to visitors for a tour of the institution was used to purchasebooks. Usually, I’m not real big on doing History type stuff, but I have toadmit that it was very interesting, especially when you get to go check out thenative stone and Iron barred cells for yourself.

From the perspective of someone who suffers from claustrophobia,I’m amazed more people didn’t go mad. Two minutes was about all I could take inthe infamous Dark Cell, and the reality of a prisoner once spending 141 daysinside is just amazing to me, especially when the cell would house as many asthe jailers could shoe horn into it’s suffocating interior.

Educational fun for the whole family, and all in all- arather enjoyable way to spend an early morning, considering I’ve spent myentire life trying to stay out of prison.

Since we are escaping, this seems like the best place totake a break for now.

And when we come back…a walk to remember, ice cream,artsy stuff, historical stuff, and a choo-choo train.

Yes, I said a choo-choo train. How’s that for a cliffhanger?

“Reportersno longer ask for verification, thus they print charges no matter howoutlandish they may seem, and once having done that, when the truth comes out,it's buried in the back page or never makes it on the air at all.” - DixieLee Ray

Daze of Whine and Poseurs PT 3 (Two Days with the Interest of One!)

2011-10-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

“Business is a combination of war and sport.”- Andre Maurois

Hello Blogiteers!

You are looking at one very tired Artbitch. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been working on new photography & paintings, contributing to this blog, as well as organizing my past ones for a possibly collaborative book project.

I need more hours in the day. Well, that- or I find some way to paint and write while I sleep.

Sleep?

Oh look… I made myself laugh.

As I’ve gone through my past screeds, one thing has stood out: damn… I am one wordy bitch. The total word count for all of my online literary excursions (forums, blogs, etc.) from 2005 to now is well over 225,000 words.

By way of comparison, the average short story is 7500 words, the average novella 15,000, and your typical novel clocks in at around 90,000 or so.

Over 225,000 words….

That is a lot of snark, and as long as I can still get annoyed at something, I see no end in sight to the distributing of my sugared venom.

Lucky, lucky you.

When we last enjoyed each others cultured company, I had just given some gentle and heartfelt advice to my fellow Artists regarding our so called Patrons, and much to my surprise, the response was just shy of overwhelming- no sarcasm intended or implied. It seems that what I said resonated among a rather large group of my artistic peeps, to the point of an almost embarrassing amount of e-mail being received.

While many of these were well written and also full of warm regards, two comments stood head and shoulders above the rest: both were posted online, one on my photographer friend Martin Hazine’s FaceBook page, and the other via a message to my Model Mayhem account.

[Martin’s amazing (and easily purchased) work, is available at his website: http://www.Glossyworks.com is not to be missed, and after you’re done reading here, you should go visit his site ASAP.]

With all due respect, I like compliments just as much as the next guy, and it’s always nice to be told that you’re pretty, even if they only meant on the inside. So sue me, I can be flattered. Sadly, there’s no time to dwell on my obvious inner beauty, as there’s some serious advice that needs to be served along with the usual heaping helping of snark.

But not until I show off the compliments I received, of course. So, what were they you ask, as I note the small hint of annoyance in your voice? Fair enough.

They were:

“Just wanted to drop a line and say that a: your paintings are fantastic, and b: your blog is brilliant. I am a long island/new york/philly transplant, and lets just say I was underwhelmed upon my first friday experiences here.’

and the incredibly nice: “I think he's my new hero. “

I’m somebody’s possible “Hero”? That just makes me want to run out, buy a pair of black spandex tights, the red shirt with the Artbitch logo plastered right on the front, and a loyal teen sidekick, whom I’m pretty sure I can get for cheap at Wal-Mart.

What was that? Oh- thanks for the offer, but I’m good… I already have a yellow cape, along with the matching boots, and several Arch-Enemies. Isn’t it just amazing what can be bought over the Internet these days?

You wouldn’t even begin to believe the deal I got on my Fortress of Snarkitude, and even better, they threw in the shipping and a Death Ray for free.

Capitalism at it’s finest, and damn, I just f***ing love Capitalism. Adore it, worship it, revere it. Honestly, everything about it, in fact. The ups, the downs, the ins, the outs, and most importantly- the sheer Challenge of it all.

To wrest the platinum plated visage of Victory from the slime dripping jaws of Defeat, and then proceed to slap Defeat upside it’s ugly face using it’s own ripped out tongue.

You know… like you do?

From a very early age, it was deemed that Capitalism and I were gonna be really good friends by my successful small businessman father. One of my earliest memories was his saying that cash was the wrench as well as the lubricant, that moved almost everything on planet Earth.

I don’t recall everything about that life lesson, (I was six after all) but I do remember this- he informed that to live the life you wanted, there were two essential requirements: passion for what you do, and investment capital.

One I’ve always had in buckets, the other… not so much as I would have liked.

I’m not complaining, mind you, I chose to be an Artist rather than your average cubicle monkey, and I’ve never truly regretted that decision, not even when I was living on Top Ramen and water. Which, by the way, I do not recommend. As a related side note, if you really want to bond with your blue collar Dad, tell him you’re gonna be either a jazz musician or an Artist.

Trust me, he will be thrilled like the dickens at your vibrant career choice. Go ahead and do it now. I’ll wait. But while you’re gone, I’m going to start gearing up to talk about the next group of people who are getting a few new regulations tossed their way, courtesy of this here Artbitch.

Patrons were the last intended recipients of my gentle suggestions for change that needs to occur within the PAC, and this time around, it’s all about the Galleries.

Lucky, lucky them.

At the present, when I say “gallery”, I’m not referring to the various places that show art, such as cafes or restaurants, nor am I referring to artists studios who on occasion, open up to the public for an event such as a showcase of their own (or others) individual work.

No, when I use the term, I am referring to those art spaces whose sole purpose is dedicated to the selling and promoting of Art, as well as their various creators of said work. The ones who by sheer force of marketing will, help establish the baseline of what is, and what isn’t, considered Art in PHX.

On the surface, my description of these committed and thoughtful art sanctuaries makes them sound professional and worthy of the public’s respect. When it comes to the PAC however, it’s an entirely different ball of wax.

It’s like the local fraternity took a community college Art class and then decided they needed to go open a boutique.

Ouch. Did I just say…? Yes, I just did.

With a few rare exceptions, the galleries in Downtown Phoenix bear little resemblance to an actual business. Odd hours, impotent marketing, and poor quality work are some of the issues that plague this badly managed industry. From an insider’s point of view, it seems that making a profit is almost an afterthought, and that’s a major dilemma for the scene, as well as its Artists.

As I’ve said many times, we Artists have bills to pay just like everyone else, and the majority of creatives have limited skills when it comes to marketing, hence the need for a gallery to sell and promote their work.

Given the advent of social media, one could argue that the archetype has shifted, and a traditional gallery is no longer needed. I would strongly disagree. Despite the ability to travel around the world clad only in footy pajamas, one still needs to bond with the artistic world in the physical sense.

In my opinion, a video monitor is one poor surrogate for standing in front of work you find inspiring, and while you can easily purchase over the web, it’s just not the same. Artists still need Galleries, but when it comes to the PHX Art Scene, I almost think that your typical creative would be better off pimping their wares on FaceBook, since unlike the majority of our downtown galleries- it’s at least open when people come looking.

In a past blog, I reiterated the following suggestions that I had directed towards PHX’s Galleries, as a conduit to strengthening their business approach.

To recap, they were:

1) Clean the f*****g place up.

2) Location, Location, Location.

3) Failure in presentation is not an option.

4) Be open more than two nights a month.

As you might imagine, the Artists took to these suggested rules far better than the Gallery owners, mainly due to the commonly acknowledged fact that in regards to their business dealings with Artists, galleries have held the upper hand for quite some time.

That is no longer the case, if we Artists wish it to be. Do you remember the most important bolt in my argument for enacting radical culture change in the PAC?

"WITHOUT ART, THERE IS NO ART SCENE- HENCE, IT ALL STARTS AND ENDS WITH US."

And that means as a whole, we Artists are the ones who hold ALL the power, and we should use it as effectively as possible, for the betterment of the PAC. No art means that there’s no reason for Galleries, no need for First Friday, and no rationale for the pointless yearly three day circle-jerk that is known as Art Detour.

So how do we make this happen? We grow a set, and dig in our heels. I feel it’s high time that the Artists demand the inherent issues within the PAC be corrected before we agree to show our work in any downtown PHX gallery, minus the rare exception here and there.

[For instance? Willo North. I LOVE them, and they “get it” where many seemingly do not.]

Originally, when I suggested the rules above, they were directed at the Galleries, with the hope that they would endeavor to fix the issues themselves. Since that isn’t seemingly going to happen anytime soon, I think I’m gonna tweak them a bit, and give the rules back to the Artists for use as bargaining tools instead.

My Blog. My Rules. My Way.

So my fellow Artists, let’s have some fun using our newly tweaked utensils of influence, and as with all things in Artbitch land- we’ll start with number one, and maybe add a new one or two along the way.

Clean the f*****g place up. It’s not Courtney Love’s house, after all.

Many moons ago, when I was just starting on the path to becoming a gallery artist, I would show almost anywhere: Bars, restaurants, coffee houses, doctor’s offices, conference rooms, retail stores, gyms, private parties, you get the idea. Clean, well-lit, and as a rule- very nice to spend time in.

And then there’s the gallery spaces of downtown Phoenix. As I’ve previously stated: I cannot tell you how many times I've walked into a downtown art space and have wanted a TyVek suit. Filthy floors, filthy walls, and lets not even think about the bathroom- if they have one, that is.

Having once dropped my car keys in an abattoir as described above, I actually gave serious thought to just leaving them there, mainly since they were stuck to the floor already. While I do understand that some of these businesses function on a very tight budget, there is no excuse for operating a space that looks like Charlie Sheen just spent the weekend there.

Because until you do the basics; wiping down the walls of dust, dirt, and cobwebs- sweeping the floor, taking out the trash, cleaning the windows, and making sure the air doesn’t smell like the sand under the Porta-Potties at a 4th of July Willie Nelson concert, know that I- and hopefully nobody else, will ever show work in your space until you’ve given the place a metaphorical flea dip.

And after you’re done with all those basic and necessary chores- the minute a show comes down, patch up the nail holes, slap a fresh coat of paint on the walls, and prepare to be amazed how good your space looks when it doesn’t resemble downtown Beirut after a Hamas mixer.

If cleanliness is truly next to Godliness, then we Artists need to definitely make sure that we get all shades of Yahweh, Buddha, and Jesus up in these here galleries of theirs.

No Mop n’ Glow? Then count on no shows.

Location, Location, Location. Lex Luthor was right- It DOES make a difference.

One of the other large issues facing the PAS is the address of certain galleries- while there are a few located in the center of general blandness that is Roosevelt Row, most are located in a more, let’s say… gritty, part of town.

Which from a certain point of view, can come across as an artistic de-militarized zone.

And therein lies the problem. We’re never going to see an influx of affluent Art buyers until the areas that these spaces are sited in improve, and traditionally- the landlords of these spaces do as little as possible to spend money on what they see as frivolous expenditures. You know… things like striking interiors, attractive facades, outside lighting, and central air conditioning?

Seriously. Some of the art spaces in Phoenix have no AC. Just swamp coolers.

In case you didn’t know, Arizona gets a tad hot during summer, so AC is a definite necessity for a public space where people gather. If the temperature outside goes up ten degrees every time you open up the door, that’s a clear sign that your building’s cooling system needs an upgrade.

Just a suggestion.

From the perspective of an Artist, I am somewhat sympathetic, but still crushingly realistic- rest assured that transients, hookers, drug dealers, and the occasional crack-head will not add color or character to your space, and they definitely don’t add to your bottom line either. You want to run an Art Gallery, not a halfway house that masquerades as one.

The reality is that if you want to be successful, where you’re located has to be considered both attractive and safe to the average schmuck, and that’s just the way it goes. Now, before you start griping about how the space you’re in is all you can afford, my advice is that even if it’s smaller and possibly more expensive, you need to move somewhere that’s attractive to potential customers.

Want to be a gallery owner? Then start thinking more like a businessman, and less like an Artist, and you might just have a shot. It’s called a business model, and it works.

Until then, I’ll be sitting outside your space with the AC blasting, the car doors locked and the windows rolled up, because this part of town just freaks me the hell out.

Failure in presentation is not an option, but in Phoenix- very few got that memo.

When I started my career in NYC, if there was one thing hammered into my skull, it was this: when a Patron comes in, your objective was to make their decision to buy your work a no-brainer.

The opposite appears to be true in the PAC, where amateurish (and uninteresting) presentation rules the day. For some mysterious reasons, these methods seem to be perfectly acceptable among some of the PAC’s collective galleries.

Once again, the well-worn refrain of “I / We have no money to…” rings out, its shrill pitch rising above the clamor of intelligent and focused conversation, much to the vexation of those of us who know better.

Simply put, it’s a cop-out for being lazy, and we all know it.

What’s really annoying is that making your space impressive isn’t really that hard, or even that costly- if I can pull a professional show together with virtually no budget to speak of, so can you.

Once your potential Patrons are inside, you can wow them with your professionalism even when you can’t with your location. So what do I mean by this, exactly?

As I noted earlier, having a clean and safe place is very important to your success, but there’s much more you can do to stack the deck in your favor. You’re an Art Gallery, so start behaving like one, or we Artists will make you.

So as a complimentary Artbitch public service, I’ll start with some basic tips. Feel free to take notes.

First up: Put out the Welcome Mat, but remember to place it behind the Velvet Rope.

In my last blog, I introduced the concept of the “Velvet Rope” as a method of possible control over the mass of idiocy that without fail, surges forward every First Friday and generally mucks up the works.

The number of people who emailed me with pure hated for this idea I fronted? Zero.

I may be on to something, methinks- perhaps I should reexamine my idea of a combination speakeasy & art gallery while I’m at it. Gah. Another idea for another time, I guess.

Since it stands to reason that if you separate the wheat from the metaphorical chaff you’ll get a better base of Patrons, I’m all for it. Stop the “trash” before it even gets in the door, and you won’t have to take it out later that night.

Great, you say. Just what we need… more elitism. You bet’cha.

Going to an art event should never be confused with going to the club, unless the art event actually IS in the club. I don’t want the cast of Jersey Shore ruining my show, and since I’m the one providing an entertainment of sorts, I’m the one who gets to pick the guest list, via my hand picked door guy.

Clad like crap? Adios. Staggering drunk in line? Dos Verdana. Being rude and disrespectful? Say Gutennacht. Attempting to cajole your way in? Vaya con Dios, mi amigo.

Dressed in skin tight leather, fishnet stockings, wearing five inch heels and looking like an Asian Joan Jett? The wine bar is to the left, and help yourself to some caviar as well.

My treat.

BTW, did I mention that I’m the Artist showing here tonight?

Now, when it comes to the door guy, you’ll want someone who’s equivalently professional and intimidating- think of Mr. Rogers after a weekend tutorial in Chemistry taught by Hulk Hogan.

As a rule, I usually don’t believe in any form of discrimination, but if someone is living out the “bro” stereotype full throttle, I’m all for kicking them to the curb at warp speed to save myself some serious aggravation later.

Stop it at the door, you keep it off the floor.

Second: Seek Enlightenment.

If you want to showcase the Art in your gallery, it needs to be seen under the best conditions, and one simple way to do that is with the lighting that is paramount for your space. In most applications, some form of track lighting will usually do the trick.

This type of lighting system features easily replaceable bulbs, positionable fixtures (to change the angle or direction of the beam) and has become one of the more affordable systems as of late.

So lighten up, already. You and your space will feel (and look) so much better.

Third: I’m your Tour Guide and we’re going to have fun!

For some people, an Art Gallery can be an intimidating experience- it’s your job to help lead the neophytes through the artistic minefields and show them the way to personal enlightenment.

Your main purpose is to promote your Artists, of course, but within that context- you can also serve as a substitute teacher of sorts to the inexperienced. If we expect the PAC to transform, then we need to start sowing some metaphorical culture seeds, in my highly biased opinion.

Yes, you should talk about your represented Artists, but it’s also a perfect opportunity to educate your blissfully captive audience about the techniques and history behind their respective style as well. As a gallery owner, you must make the effort to demystify Art for the masses, and show them why one’s Life is so much richer when it’s presence is known.

Everyone has had that one Teacher whom they liked as a kid- do you know why? It was because they made learning interesting, and that should be an integral part of your job at the present.

And if by enlightening the general public, you can sell a whole bunch of Art, well… that’s just additional icing on the kielbasa then, isn’t it?

Fourth: Looks Professional. Acts Professional. Must be Professional.

When I was just starting out, my original Art Rep advised me that the initial perception of oneself had to strike first, your substance could follow somewhat afterward. Twenty some odd years later, its been my experience that she had a solid lead on a core marketing value.

First impressions really do count for a lot, especially when it comes to the world of business, and in the minds of many, success breeds confidence. Understanding that concept, and it’s inherent real world use, can make a key difference in how your gallery is perceived by both the Public and your established Patrons.

An example from the desk of the Artbitch: ten years or so ago, things had really slowed down for my gallery career- I was so cold professionally that you could have chilled drinks on me. There were no bookings, no shows, and no interest in the new work I was doing at that point in time.

Nada, zip, el zilcherino.

For someone who was used to planning concurrent shows, this state of affairs had me as nervous as Rick Perry locked in a room with talkative Scientists. Fortunately for my flagging career, my old rep had a simple solution, one that women have used successfully for centuries: the art of faking it.

“It” in this case being the false perception that I was simply overflowing with success.

Wherever I went, from art openings to my local Circle K, I put forth the fiction that I was simply slammed, with nary a chance to breathe. There was just no way possible that I could realistically accept any more private commissions, as I was just booked solid for months.

Oh... the agony and the burden of my beautiful talent.

Within a month of my one man play, I was contacted by a new client who wanted a simple painting- I begged off, claiming that I was jammed up for at least a year, and couldn’t possibly accept his trifle, as I was just too damn popular.

A $1000.00 commission was his offer and I actually said: “I won’t lift a pencil until I see five grand in my palm, and why don’t you come back when you’re all ready to play with the big boys?”

Seriously. And I wasn’t even drunk.

The truly amazing part of my artistic arrogance was this: IT ACTUALLY WORKED. He came back the next day, greased my bank account with a very nice counteroffer, and then... THANKED me liberally for carving out the time for him. Calling me bowled over is putting it mildly, to say the very least.

Naturally, I took almost two months to finish what normally takes two weeks. Didn’t want to seem too quick, you know. I learned that from watching Scotty on Star Trek. If they don’t think you work miracles, they’ll lose all respect for you.

So, the million dollar question I’d have to ask is this: why did it work? I have a theory, and it actually makes sense on a primal level. People love a winner, or more accurately- we love people whom we perceive as being successful, and at our inner primate core, we hope that some glimmer of what they’ve got rubs off on us.

We all want to hang out with the cool kids, be a part of that intimate inner circle no one else can gain entry to, and then loft our conceit above the commoners, while claiming it’s not that big a deal. In the end, we’re all just a bunch of programmable monkeys, and you as a gallery owner can seize upon that by playing the part.

When potential Patrons walk into your gallery, present yourself as successful, and exude a quiet confidence- both in your manner and the way you dress, which should display the rock solid sense of the true professional.

As far as their need to know, everything you touch turns to gold, and impress upon them that your place is THE place that they should come to and then proceed to spend money in.

Confidence breeds success. Try some on for size, and I guarantee you’ll like the way it fits.

Fifth: Display Standards. Please get some... and right quick.

One of the biggest problem areas that some of Phoenix’s galleries need to correct dramatically, is the overall quality of how their work is displayed.

To be fair, these problematic issues can run the gamut, but when it all goes horribly wrong, the usually benign act of visiting a Gallery can mutate very rapidly into an artsy version of the Bataan Death March.

And while I am obviously joking, I’m really not exaggerating by much. As I said earlier, its like the local fraternity took a community college Art class and then decided they needed to go open a boutique- it’s just that painful.

Brutal, in fact.

The reality of marketing art is that if your work isn’t displayed in the best possible manner, it’s going to go home with you, and not a potential Patron. So as a favor from one artistic colleague to another, I’m going to share a few simple guidelines that I think would be beneficial to you.

The end goal that you should aim for is this: Make it as easy as possible for someone to buy the work that you represent. The best way to do this is an iron-clad contract with your Artists that demands certain expectations from them and their to be presented works of Art.

If they're going to be displaying prints, regardless of subject, note that they must be professionally printed, because color copies from Kinko's look like crap, and the truly serious buyers you want to cultivate WILL know the difference, and call you and your Artists out on it.

Art that is displayed with any thing other than professional materials makes it appear unprofessional and self-indulgent, plus- it also forces potential Patrons to have to do one more extra step, which they hate.

State in writing that all work to be displayed must be satisfactorily framed, unless it’s a gallery stretched painting or some other type of artistic media that does not require framing, such as a floor sculpture, for instance.

Title cards should be clearly printed (not handwritten) for supreme legibility, and ought to list the title, size, media and price of the piece of art it represents, as well as the contact info for the Artist, except in those cases where the Gallery will be handling all aspects of the sale and future contact.

Clean smudges and fingerprints off the glass (if the work is framed) and make sure the art is hung level. Sculptures should be secured safely, as accidents sometimes can, and will- happen.

Not too surprisingly, Patrons really are thankful for this sort of thing, and tend to show their appreciation by sales and spreading the word about your place.

And if you do your job right, that word of mouth won’t include the word “sucks”.

Be open more than two nights a month. You have 29 other days to play with, you know.

This one has always aggravated the hell out of me. Why would you spend $1000.00 a month or more to rent a space, and then be open only two nights out of thirty-one?

Maybe I’m missing some ethereal point, but does this business strategy make sense to anybody? If I were to look at this from a cost per usage ratio, it would be cheaper to just go blow that cash on hookers and pizza.

At least then you’d know that you really got your money’s worth.

I am sympathetic to the fact that many Gallery owners are forced to sometimes work two jobs to pay for their spaces, but I also know that if you want to be successful, you have to be accessible for when your potential customers are both ready and have the free time to come look at your gallery.

This translates to being open at least on the weekends, when the crowds are downtown.

Friday and Saturday, you should endeavor to be open for at least a few hours during the night when people are more apt to be out and about, and as for Sunday, you can reserve it for previously set gallery appointments if you want that day off.

Advertise this fact as much as possible, so that the general public is made aware of your expanded hours, and give serious thought to having some form of event happen weekly as well, whether it be music, a poetry slam, or even hosting a charity affair.

Let’s do the math. If you can manage to do this every week, your gallery will then be open eight times a month, versus two. Four times the possible exposure for the space and your Artists, four times the possible sales opportunities, four times more than what your competition currently offers.

However- you should be prepared to accept the cold reality that if you don't have the energy to run an art gallery the way it should be, then maybe this line of work is not for you. I admire your passion, but if you aren't moving Art and making a profit, you really aren't helping us or yourself.

When all is said and done, your gallery should be perceived as a thriving business, and not as an expensive hobby that you like to dabble in from time to time.

Unless you like throwing money away, in which case- just stay your course.

Whew. I don’t know about you, but I am beat- so, I think that we’ll take a well deserved break right about now, and when we come back, I think we’ll have a quiet little chat about my fellow tribesmen, the Artists, and how some of them need a good metaphorical kick in the ass.

Come to think of it… let's just screw that metaphorical part.

“If you don't drive your business, you will be driven out of business.”- B.C. Forbes

Daze of Whine and Poseurs PT.2 (Yes Phoenix, there is an Art Scene.)

2011-09-22T20:54:00.000-07:00

“Sometimes, to pursue a new idea, the artist must forfeit his deposit on an old idea.”

- Robert Brault

Hello Blogiteers!

Is it chilly in here? Sorry, my bad- it’s just the candy-assed giving me their version of the cold shoulder.

Brrrr, that is brisk… I’m glad that I brought my Hello Kitty Mittens with me, otherwise I’d be freezing.

Thank God my hate keeps me warm.

But it’s all good, since it just goes to prove my point that Phoenix’s Arts Scene is infested with both the thin-skinned and the thin on talent. I can hear them now:

“Oh look, the “commercial” art guy is judging us… AGAIN.”

Ouch. That really hurts. And here I was, all hopeful that we could stay BFF’s and stuff. Life can be so cruel sometimes, can’t it? But like I said, it’s all good.

When it came to my last blog, there were more than a few people who thought that the overall tone was a lot “tamer” than what it should have been, given the subject.

Whether I’m snarky or sweet, people have an issue with me. Most days I just can’t win for losing, and neither can Phoenix, it seems. I keep hearing from all these apathetic poseurs how much they LOVE art, the process of creation, supporting the 602, keeping it real, and all that blah, blah, blah crap.

As my dear Oma used to say, the proof is in the Bethmännchen*, and so far- I haven’t seen any.

[*Bethmännchen are a Christmas specialty of Frankfurt. They are small round cookies, made of Marzipan and egg whites, decorated with almond halves. Now you know.]

Despite all the positive talk, the Art Scene in Phoenix, is not just struggling- it’s barely surviving. As far as I’m concerned, I’d settle for struggling, since it would actually be an upgrade at this point.

Wait a minute. Did you hear that? Ahh… the sounds of whining from the Shadows of the Internet. And as usual, they’re anonymous. Shocking.

Way to stand your ground, cravens.

One small suggestion: if you’re going to defend a certain point of view, it would have more validity if you actually attached your name to it. I’m just saying this as a friend.

Because I love, you know.

Now, the argument was made by one of our poseur scenesters that since there’s a First Friday every month, our Art Scene must be doing "okay". When I received the email containing this idiocy, I nearly horked up a kidney laughing.

We’re doing “okay”… are they on drugs? If so, I definitely want some of what they’ve been taking, because it must make crack look like a freaking cheese danish.

Yet, I just know that there might be some of you out there who feel the same way as the schmuck above. So, I offer a simple challenge to my fellow Artists: just answer the questions below, that’s all I ask of you.

- Are you making a living off your Art? (More than 75% of your yearly income.)

- Do High End Art Buyers from other states (as a rule) consider Downtown Phoenix a “go to” spot?

- Are our Downtown Phoenix Galleries able to generate (and maintain) a national sales presence?

- Do National / International Galleries (as a rule) consider Phoenix a hotbed of new talent?

- Which makes more money on FF- The Lost Leaf, Jobot or ANY randomly chosen Phoenix Art Gallery?

Your answers, please.

So… are we “okay”, then? Yep…that’s what I thought.

Reality... It is such a bitch.

But all is not lost- despite my rather acidic tone, I don’t think this situation is irreversible. But given the generalized malaise inherent in the Phoenix Arts Community (PAC), I think it is inevitable, unless we as a whole come together and force change.

Note that I said: “we”, not “me”, or “you”.

This is something that requires a cohesive effort, and it will take ALL of the community to do what needs to be done- namely, to make it financially viable to be an Artist who lives and works in Phoenix.

There are many issues that plaque the PAC, and they run quite the gamut, but they all have a common root cause: the Patrons, Galleries and Artists who operate within the scene.

I still hold that view, but my gun sights have narrowed as of late. As I stated in my last blog:

“Don’t think that I’m giving anyone a mulligan- the Patrons and Galleries are definitely part of the problem, and are issues that need to be fixed, say you me.

No, the reasons why I’ve finally leveled my sights on the creative community is this: it all starts and ends with us.”

Oh boy… did that tick off some people, let me tell you- and the horde of bravely anonymous self- righteous poseurs couldn’t wait to start sending their emails ASAP.

Thank Heaven for the common sense of my Blogiteers.

The tally so far? A 70/30 average.

In my favor.

As is typical, the ones that weren’t on my side were chock-full of the usual ineffectual insults and a new interwoven tone of: How dare I lay blame at the feet of the Creative community, who in the blankety-blank Hell did I think I was?

Easy answer: I’m an established mid-career Artist who had his fill of being sick and f***ing tired of watching mediocrity and apathy strangle the day, and decided to stop playing nice with the other kids.

That wasn’t the answer some of you were hoping for, I’m sure. Ask me if I care.
Go ahead.

Hint: I don’t.

So, what exactly did I mean when I said that “it” starts and ends with us? My point was that we’re the both the beginning and the end of the artistic process. We start the cycle by creating our works, and we bring about the end by selling them.

Yes, I said selling.

Wouldn’t that be a refreshing change from the usual First Friday? To actually make a living off our skills… damn. For a minute there, I think I went positively all tingly just thinking about it.

Mixed in with all the anonymous emails of venomous idiocy, there were many more who agreed with my POV, and a handful which weakly opined that I hadn’t really offered any workable solutions, either.

HA! Said I, with a glee born of the darkest Schadenfreude.

If you’re a loyal and long suffering reader of my literary rants, you know this to be total bull***t. In fact, the first blog I ever posted on Artbitch; “Thank God It’s First Friday” suggested several courses of action for the FF Triad, and it also happens to be the most widely read thing that I have ever written.

[Link: http://waynemichaelreich.blogspot.com/2009_10_01_archive.html ]

But then again, maybe it’s my fault- I do write a lot of words, and it’s been my experience that if there’s more than a paragraph to read, the truly stupid get easily confused.

And let’s not forget angry. Especially angry.
The “I’m completely out of Ding Dongs” kind of angry.

It boggles the mind. I would think that if you were going to attack someone’s point of view, you would at least bother to do the merest of research. For some, it seems that’s just way too much thinking.

Phoenix- when it comes to doing things half-ass, that’s when we seemingly step up and give 110 percent.

The rules and/or guidelines that I suggested were as follows:

Patrons.

1) Unless you're an artist I respect, save the art critique.

2) I don't care to hear what you think about my models.

3) Guess what? I'm not Kmart.

Galleries.

1) Clean the f*****g place up.

2) Location, Location, Location.

3) Failure in presentation is not an option.

4) Be open more than two nights a month.

Artists.

1) Quality IS job one.

2) Presentation- try it, you'll like it.

3) Professionalism is never done half ass.

Can you see why my detractors are so annoyed with me? I dare to use Logic, which has the joyous side effect of confusing and enraging them.

Speaking of Logic…

Despite my easily defensible position, my critics like to claim that I’m way out of line while whining that my stance is too caustic and negative. Oh yeah… it’s been ME who’s bringing it all down, and as you might well imagine, the culpability has just been eating me alive.

But my guilty conscience is your gain, yet again. Because I felt so bad at being such a burden on the good and noble Creatives of Phoenix, I locked myself away in my secret hollow volcano lair slaving day and night, until one day- there emerged a game plan for the Artists.

Like I said earlier, it starts and ends with us, and we need, as a whole, to start realizing that. More importantly, we need to use what power we already do possess and force the changes that need to be made.

If I were to be brutally honest, being an Artist in Phoenix sucks huge donkey wahaunga, and we all know it. For clarity’s sake, I’m not talking about specific work or the art of the craft itself, nor am I for even the merest of moments, denigrating the interpersonal relationships that have formed within the community.

I consider myself very fortunate to work among a number of the best Artists I’ve ever seen, and even more privileged to be friends with many of them. Having said that, I still believe that more needs to be done. And can be, as well. Like I said, it starts with us.

“Yes, yes- we’ve heard you say that several times now, but what do you mean?”

I mean “we”(as a cohesive group) can control the scene. Stop laughing for a minute, and think about it. From the Patrons to the Galleries, we can shape how this juggernaut rolls, and I believe that this can be done with a modicum of effort and time.

The end result being a stronger, healthier, and more profitable Art Scene for us to partake of. My vision is over-optimistic to be sure, but it IS possible. Naturally, I might have a few ideas how, and since we are such good buddies- I’ll share some of them with you, free of charge.

However; unlike the last time I threw out some suggestions towards all the players in the Art Scene, these are for the Artists alone, as a suggested “how to” on changing our currently brackish cultural pond for the better.

Remember the most important bolt in my argument:

WITHOUT “ART”, THERE IS NO ART SCENE- HENCE, IT ALL STARTS AND ENDS WITH US.

Therein lies the power that will change the culture of the PAC.

As I’ve noted before, there are three key players in the PAC, and just like the last time I attempted to start a forward dialogue, we’ll start off this with the Patrons, except this is not going to be about what they should do, it’s about what we collectively as Artists need to do about them.

The generally accepted definition of a Patron is as follows:

- A person who is a customer, client, or paying guest, esp. a regular one, of a store, hotel, etc.

- A person who supports with money, gifts, efforts, or endorsement an artist, writer, museum, cause, charity, institution, special event- a patron of the arts.

Now by that definition, a Patron sounds like a sure bet, except that in our art scene, our so called Patrons really don't do d**k for us in the financial security department.

It’s been my personal experience that most of the several thousand warm bodies that turn out for FF are essentially just useless scenesters smoking cigarettes, swilling beer, gumming up the works and buying the occasional two-dollar refrigerator magnet.

Don't get me wrong, there are more than a few among the great lemming mass who do buy the high- end art, but their numbers are too low to keep this scene viable for all of us as a whole.

Obviously, this needs to change, and the sooner, the better.

I would love to know of any other profession that throws a monthly free event with the substantiated knowledge that they’ll make less than a zero return on their outlay. We need serious art buyers at FF, not parasitic “here for the party alone” free-loaders, and if you think I’m being way too harsh, try walking a mile in my motorcycle boots and see how you feel.

So how do we start culling the useless members of the herd away from our verdant pasture?

1) A Street Vendor’s Market: Come for the Corn Dogs, Stay for the DJ’s!

It’s an open secret that the majority of peeps who come out for FF do so because it’s a good time for very little to no money, and that’s ok- it really is. When I was in my early twenties, Top Ramen and I were the closest of friends, so I understand the concept of wanting a good time for cheap.

That had nothing to do with why I dated a lot of strippers back in the day, however.

Pinky swear. Moving on…

Now, if they’re actually interested in buying Art, the odds are pretty good that their budget will be under fifty dollars, and the chances are even better that they’ll find work at FF worth that cost.

Or most likely- someone who’s willing to accept such a price for their work. That desperate, I am not. Realistic would be a more accurate term for my current state of mind, I think. I’m an Artist, yes, but I’m also a businessman, and I have bills to pay just like you.

And the typical FF poseur party-goer isn’t gonna help me, much less the scene, if at all.

To quote Ansel Adams: “Art is both the taking and giving of beauty; the turning out to the light the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit. It is the recreation on another plane of the realities of the world; the tragic and wonderful realities of earth and men, and of all the inter-relations of these.”

That there’s a beautiful thought.

However, the sad reality is this: I’ve personally witnessed the scores of witless FF automatons traveling through a gallery, with a steady forward moving pace, looking at everything, and yet somehow- seeing nothing in the end.

And these, the insipid, are the people whom we hope will keep us afloat?

Boorish cretins who take what we do for granted, deride our skills, spend as little as possible, and yet somehow, every month get us, the arts community- to open our doors, showcase our wares, only to be rejected just the same.

Did I mention that we also foot the bill for all of this?

If I were to draw an analogy, the PAC is like that nice (but plain) girl in High School who had no real friends, filled spiral-bound notebooks with really crappy poetry, and in vain, hoped that one day, the star quarterback would notice her solely on the strength of her personality.

How does it help your career / sales/ the Art Scene if one thousand people see your work (with out actually seeing it) and aren’t going to buy anything, anyway?

Explain this to me if you would.

And don’t even get me started on the street vendors.

I really don’t have an issue with anyone trying to make some extra money, but… if you’re selling homemade five dollar collage art right outside the door of the gallery where I’m trying to move a $1000.00 painting, and the retail mojo gets screwed up because of you, know this- we are gonna have a serious disagreement with each other.

Just like the Hells Angels don’t want a group of yuppie weekend bikers at one of their rallies, or the way Neiman-Marcus reacts to the thought of a Wal-Mart opening up across the street, I don’t want the value of my work being undermined or more accurately- cheapened, by someone’s slapdash stab at being an Artist.

It’s hard enough to sell as is, even more so when a potential customer decides he wants to cheap out and buy a handful of ten dollar color copies off a folding table set up across from my show.

Hobbyists have no place next to the professionals. Scathingly harsh, but true. In keeping with Artbitch tradition, I truly expect that some of you may have a slight problem with me saying this.

Tough.

After working my a** off for the last two decades, I’ve earned the right to say it, and the hobbyists have the right to shut the hell up, and maybe learn their craft, instead of screwing with ours.

I refuse to lower my standards and professionalism because you’re too vain and lazy to raise yours. However, this is America, and as such- it’s not up to me alone to dictate populist taste in the Art and Culture of a community.

Consider yourself lucky, because if I were the one in charge, there would be Reading homework for everybody. All snarky kidding aside, as I said earlier, I’d never get in the way of anyone making some extra cash, especially with the way the economy is now.

To be blunt, I’m not a total pr**k, despite some hearsay to the contrary, and while you might find this possibly unbelievable- I’m still on Santa’s “nice” list, and that ain’t nothing to sneeze at.

As I see it, we have a dual problem here that needs solving; an influx of so called Patrons who have little to no money, and a group of varying talent selling cheaply priced trinkets to the same.

Both have the bad habit of spooking serious Art Buyers- the poseur horde by their being crass, cheap and unappreciative of the effort put forth every month by the PAC, and the vendors whose DIY presence taints FF with possessing the depth of a church bazaar.

We really need to get these two together and the Hell away from us, so hence- I think we need a Vendor’s Market. A permanent retail location where people looking for a good and cheap time can hook it up with various street vendors selling the same.

God knows we have several prime locations downtown where we could corral this herd, and provide them with what they truly come to FF for: DJ’s, corn dogs, tee shirts, cold beer, spray paint stencils on cardboard, the whole “bro” works.

They want a street party? I say let’s give it to them, so we can get back to the business of selling our work, uninterrupted by their crass idiocy. If you think that I’m being a little elitist in my approach, grow up.

I don’t bust my a** so my work can sit at my studio collecting dust, I do it so I can make money and pay my overhead. Being paid to do what you love seems like a no brainer to me, and if you had the chance to do so, why wouldn’t you?

If you need proof that a business model approach is the right way to go, just look at Scottsdale.

GROAN.

You have no idea how much it pains me to praise a city where arrogance has an actual physical presence. But, they do know how to move the Art, and they don’t f**k around when it comes to marketing either.

My day gig involves dealing with galleries and art professionals of every discipline, and I can assure you that they wouldn’t put up with one tenth of the crap that we do in relation to FF.

Their Art Walk is actually just that- no street festival atmosphere, no bros, no drunken hipsters, no card tables hawking detritus of questionable quality, it’s actually nice- and it happens four times a month, versus our two, and unlike 99% of our so called art spaces, they are open at least four days a week.

Is such a draconian solution as the one I’ve proposed absolutely necessary?

I’d say yes, but to be totally fair, I might be a tad biased. So, I ask you impartially, do we need it? Let’s reflect for a minute… boorish crowds, atmosphere akin to a carnival, drunken hipsters, and flat-lining sales.

Still think we’re “okay”?

If you do, then please go stand with the rest of the herd, behind that velvet rope, as the wheat gets separated further from the chaff, using my next humble suggestion for the Patron problem.

2) “Sorry, Bro… You’re NOT on the list.”

Here’s another take on making FF better- since us Artists are throwing the party, I say we decide who gets invited. With all due respect, it’s not a high school kegger. Just because you heard about it, that doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to get in.

And to control who does, I had to use my artistic TARDIS and retrieve an inspired idea from my gallery days back in NYC, a concept which is as old as the club scene itself: The Velvet Rope.

This, of course, is a very familiar adversary to anyone who has ever spent any time trying to get past one in order to be in the V.I.P section, the place where all the magic happens.

I’ll explain. When I had my first solo shows, I needed something to bring the people in. Being the new kid on the proverbial art block, I had no previous street cred or show history to speak of, nor any reviews to back up the (at that time) personally-held belief that my work was solid.

I required a gimmick, a hook, an attention-grabbing publicity device. After ruling out bribery, blackmail, crying, threats of violence, holding my breath until I turned blue, and trading sexual favors, I hit on what eventually did work: exclusion.

Not too shocking a concept really, since I got the idea from standing in line outside a Manhattan club for about two and a half hours before realizing that unless I had cocaine or boobs, I wasn’t getting in any time soon.

And thus, a marketing campaign was born.

One of the great never fail triggers, especially if you want to tick off your fellow Humans, is to shun them from something. The fact that they didn’t really want to go in the first place doesn’t even matter- it’s the absurd idea that you had the audacity to judge them inferior in the first place.

Seems like it would be counter-productive, I know. But there was a method to my madness, and it was based on the concept of catnip for the Human Ego, as it were. And boy, did I use bags of the stuff to get my name out.

First, I hosted a very exclusive invite-only Artist Reception a few nights before the general public opening to let the buzz build, and when the big night arrived, I made it almost impossible to get in.

On purpose, mind you. And it worked like a freaking charm. When all is said and done, I love the fact that sometimes, we’re just monkeys with cell phones. Despite our inherent sense of Logic, we’re all hard wired to react a certain way, and it’s a system that’s easily manipulated.

Especially by a Machiavellian bastard like myself. I tend to run with my strengths, you know.

The setup was this: I asked one of my more intimidating friends to act as doorman and screen the collected multitude, making sure that only those who looked like definite money were allowed to pass.

Well…them, and girls who were really hot. It’s not like I’m a complete idiot.

The over the top act of his checking the clipboard for people’s names; “Sorry Sir/Miss… if you’re not on my list, I can’t let you in- hey, you two cute Punk Rock Asian girls? Go right on in.” was in my humble opinion, sheer f**king genius.

And as I said, it worked like a freaking charm. The ones who did get inside were definitely a cut above the mass who didn’t, and the show sold out, much to the delight of the gallery and myself.

Elitist snobbery? You bet’cha.

Whether my fellow Creatives want to admit it or not, at the end of the day, it’s all about moving the work and getting paid. I’ve often been accused of having a touch of the soulless mercenary within me, and obviously- I’m okay with it.

Oh hell, let’s be honest. I enjoy every second of it.

When the Artist’s smock comes off, the Businessman’s shark skin suit goes on, and that’s how I make sure that a roof remains over my head. Having to split myself into two distinctive halves isn’t as difficult as you might think- heck, Batman does it all the time, and he’s just fine.

But let’s get back to the rope.

The time has come to elevate the culture, and the best way to do that is to start at the door. I don’t come to your job and act like an uncouth jacka**, try having a little respect and do the same when you come to mine. If you’re gonna act like an unrefined bro, I’m gonna treat you like one, and show you the sidewalk where you belong.

One of the many beefs I have with FF has always been the consistent annoyance of the low rent crowd mucking about the scene- one’s pajamas should never be considered as formal outdoor wear, unless you’re Hugh Hefner getting his mail.

Depending on the occasion, I endeavor to make sure that I’m appropriately dressed to say the very least. I recently attended “Women's Room: Art by Phoenix's Premiere Female Artists” a show of Feminist Art on display at Bragg’s Pie Factory, and gave serious pause to gouging out my eyes at some of the fashion monstrosities I witnessed.

Visualize Jersey Shore’s “Snooki” mixed with the “B” team from your local strip club, add a dash of Hoochie Mama, and you’ll have a faultless snapshot of what was fleetingly passing for Fashion that evening.

Sadly… that was just the dudes. To paraphrase Denis Leary: Pull. Up. Your. Pants.

The ladies are also getting a critique too- I like girls in thongs as much as the next guy, but not when it looks like they’ve been poured into their clothes and had forgotten to say "when."

Maybe I’m being a bit of a quadrangle, but I was raised to believe that you don’t leave the house looking like you just rolled out of bed. Seriously… would it kill some of these people to clean up a bit before they came out to the galleries?

Apparently, it would, and I’m sick of it.

Hence my velvet line in the sand, which I feel is long overdue. Codes of Conduct and Dress are S.O.P. for other businesses, why not ours? Just because we’re artistic doesn’t mean that we have to put up with the kinds of crap that would get you kicked out of everywhere else.

However, I do realize that some of our Patrons may honestly still not have a clue why us Artists get so annoyed, and therefore may need some additional guidance beyond what I posted earlier.

So, my Patrons, here are your additional rules.

There will be a pop quiz later, so if I were you, I’d make sure to take notes.

1) You’re Drunk? Great! Please get the F**k out.

The last time I checked, just because there’s wine at an art opening, it doesn’t mean you’re at a bar, so lay off the two handed 12 oz. dead lift.

Predictably, since the only time Shane MacGowan looks sober is when he’s standing next to you- you’re not really someone I find to be truly inspiring. Sure, I’ve seen people like you before – but usually I had to pay an admission first.

My apologies. That was completely uncalled for, since to be honest- I feel sorry for you, I really do, because when you look back on the beach that is your life and see only one set of footprints, you’ll realize that this was when Bacchus was sleeping it off.

A heads up- if you f**k up my show because you’re staggering around and being obnoxious, I will personally snap off your arm, shove it up your a**, and turn you into a Whiskey-flavored human Popsicle.

For a start.

Now, why don't you go home and slip into something more comfortable... like a coma?

2) This isn’t a Motorhead concert, so you can bring it down a notch.

While we’re all really excited that you graced us with your presence, we’d probably appreciate it a whole lot more if we hadn’t been alerted by your louder than Zeppelin conversational skills when you entered the room.

I get it. You’re self-important. However- whoever you are, and wherever you are, you will always be in the wrong if you’re rude.

Amazingly, no one here is interested in where you’ve been tonight, where you’re going next, or whom you’re “hooking up” with later on. It’s an art event, not TMZ, so please… keep it to yourself.

3) Would you like to see if that I-Phone has a “shoved up your a**” app?

This rule is not going to be for the reason you may think. Since I already covered the bases of general rudeness with Rule No.2, there’s really no need to beat a dead horse with a reminder of proper phone etiquette.

With one exception: phone camera usage.

If I had a sale for every time I stopped someone from stealing my work with their phone, I could have retired long ago. Never mind that half the time they attempt this, they’re usually standing in front of a clearly posted “No Photography Allowed” sign.

The fact that you like it doesn’t mean I have to give it to you for free. If you like the art enough to snap an illicit pic to later use as your screen saver, then you should like it enough to buy the original art work that’s hanging right in front of your face.

You have no legal right to do anything with that work UNTIL you purchase it, and even then- the right to do more than display said work is strictly limited and regulated by the laws of these here United States.

Selling our work is how we Artists pay our bills, and when you electronically steal our work from us, you impact that ability greatly, and yes- it IS a big deal. If I came to your job and stole your paycheck while you were standing there, would you be cool with it, you loathsome hypocrite?

Thought as much. So next time you’re at an art show, and see something you like, buy it outright or negotiate the price, if that option is extended by the Artist.

Speaking from experience, if you’re stealing an Artist’s work (and it IS stealing) the odds are good that if they catch you, you’ll soon find out two things: whether or not your I-Phone is waterproof, and if a colon extraction surgery is covered under your insurance policy.

But on the up side, you’ll have a brand new batch of interesting pics to look at, and it didn’t cost you a dime.

With that, I think it’s time for a well deserved break. And when we get back, the Galleries will be the next entrée on the Artbitch’s serving tray.

Don’t you worry. I’ll save you a piece. But be warned, it’s more gristle than meat.

“You never see what you want to see, forever playing to the gallery.”- Robertson Davies