
As my friend Sam Lopez recently pointed out, you only need one string on your guitar to play anything worth playing. That's true. Or, to paraphrase the poet Carl Sandburg, there's only one string in the world, and it's name is All Strings.
Created in March. 2010, as an online gallery for 30 collages inspired by the first annual San Diego Experimental Guitar Show (http://sdxgusa.blogspot.com/). It will also serve as the future home of any further guitar-themed visual art by M.J. Stevens.
In memory of Alex Chilton, Jim Dickinson, and Sky Saxon I offer you this link to a video of Bettie Page dancing to an old Seeds record: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifQK_86Nk-A
Number only. No title. There's a story behind it, sure. I set out to do 30 pictures, and I did, from 1 to 30. I didn't realize until I was working on # 30 that I had skipped 25. I was kind of upset because I thought I was done, and I wasn't. So I blew through this one as fast as possible, and it still came out pretty good...
The Harmony Rocket is one of the best guitars ever. It's got looks, style, and playability. I've had one since the 70's. I was using it for a few months in 'o6 and '07, but it's back in storage now. I'm saving it for the Apocalypse. Painting by El Greco, the perfect setting for this symbol of sonic ascendance.
Here's some information on cabbages straight off the internet:
The painting is Wheatfields by Jacob van Ruisdael, from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You think these odd painters are going to be obscure and unknown, but they are documented all over the internet- even this Dutch landscape painter from the 1600's. Wikipedia informs us of the following: "During his lifetime, his works were little appreciated, and he seems to have suffered from poverty. In 1681 the sect of the Mennonites, with whom he was connected, petitioned the council of Haarlem for his admission into the almshouse of the town, and there the artist died on the 14th of March 1682."
Here's a link to Reader's Digest's list of the top 10 aphrodisiacs:
"Then the son (Gaia's son, Cronus) from his ambush stretched forth his left hand and in his right took the great long sickle with jagged teeth, and swiftly lopped off his own father's members and cast them away to fall behind him... And so soon as he had cut off the members with flint and cast them from the land into the surging sea, they were swept away over the main a long time: and a white foam spread around them from the immortal flesh, and in it there grew a maiden. First she drew near holy Cythera, and from there, afterwards, she came to sea-girt Cyprus, and came forth an awful and lovely goddess, and grass grew up about her beneath her shapely feet. Her gods and men call Aphrodite, and the foam-born goddess and rich-crowned Cytherea, because she grew amid the foam, and Cytherea because she reached Cythera, and Cyprogenes because she was born in billowy Cyprus, and Philommedes because she sprang from the members. And with her went Eros, and comely Desire followed her at her birth at the first and as she went into the assembly of the gods. This honour she has from the beginning, and this is the portion allotted to her amongst men and undying gods, -- the whisperings of maidens and smiles and deceits with sweet delight and love and graciousness." - Hesiod, Theogeny
What were you doing last Thanksgiving? I was making this collage. The Thanksgiving Turkey and two Pilgrims basking on the beach near Plymouth Rock. The majority of images used in these collages come from a pile of books I bought at the Santee Swap Meet for $1 each in early November, 2009. Hopefully they are old and generic enough that no one's copyright sensibilities will be violated. I admit I have been lazy about documenting my sources in most instances.
"Paramecia are found everywhere in fresh waters and can be obtained in enormous numbers by letting a bit of food decay in pond water... many differences between (a paramecium and an ameba) are at once apparent... most striking of all is the rapid rate at which a paramecium swims about, as compared to the slow creeping of an ameba." -Ralph Buchsbaum, Animals Without Backbones, University of Chicago Press, 1948