The Overexamined Life of A.V. Phibes

How to transport a pizza on an airplane: in which we take a pizza from New York to Mexico City

The trouble is, these are the sort of challenges that me and Richard love.  So when we were planning to visit a friend in Mexico City and we asked if he wanted us to bring him anything from New York and his response was "I'd say a pizza, but I know you probably can't do that,"  well, we had to rise to the challenge...

I'm getting back into life, but more importantly: Andrew W.K. is a creative force to be reckoned with.

 

What happens when someone, for no reason and without warning, just FREEZES and doesn't respond for 20 minutes?  That's when the fun begins.  That's when entertainment becomes an unpredictable, interactive, and memorable experience.  I'll get to that in a minute...

So it started earlier in the month when I decided that I was going to spend an entire week celebrating my birthday. I scheduled a week of things to do and events to attend: Talk! Rock! Comedy! Parties! Foods! Drinks! BFFs!  

It seemed apropos, then, that Andrew W.K. the guru saint of the philosophy of partying, should somehow be paid tribute to.  Turns out he was going to be part of a panel discussion at the Pomp & Circumstance Post-Apocalyptic survival party with Author Tony O'Neill and comedian Matt McCarthy. That sounded pretty interesting, so I made plans with a friend to go.

The day of the event, however, my friend had to work late, so I was basically confronted with the choice:  Go alone or not go at all.  The thing is, I pretty much never go to events alone.  It makes me anxious and uncomfortable.  Since seeing his CMJ lecture, however, I'd been inspired to approach life with a more WWAWKD? attitude and what that meant in this situation is that I had to not be a fucking wimp.  The very fact that the situation made me anxious and uncomfortable meant that I ought to do it.

So I went to the event alone and I was feeling kind of awkward, so then I thought "maybe I should just go start talking to people."  Again, this is something that makes me anxious and uncomfortable, so I made myself do it and talked to a bunch of people, even, yes, I talked to Andrew W.K... in for a penny, in for a pound, right?  As with many anxieties, I found that it was not really scary at all. It actually doesn't even make much sense since I'm pretty much the hostess with the mostess when I'm in my own home or general comfort zone.  

So the panel discussion starts and I'm in a good mood because I wasn't a fucking wimp and I was being a boisterous audience member because there's nothing worse for a person onstage than to have a reticent and unresponsive audience, and hip, artsy Brooklyn crowds can often be too much on the "I'm too cool to show enthusiasm for anything" side.  It turned out that Matt McCarthy couldn't make it to be on the panel [and, as an aside, see Matt McCarthy if you have a chance, he's a hoot.  Also, yes, I know he kinda looks like my boyfriend.]  So there was an empty chair and about halfway through the panel, since I had just been shamelessly begging the emcee, Lianne Stokes, for a can of Miller Lite, I was invited to take the empty chair and join the panel.

 Now what's kind of ridiculous at this point is that I think it's perfectly reasonable for me to be on the panel since it's not like I've never been on a panel or otherwise in front of a microphone speaking to the youth of america, but since nobody knows who the fuck I am, I'm basically just some drunk chick from the audience. Whatever...I'll be the best drunk chick from the audience I can be!

Okay, now I'll finally circle back around to the thing I was talking about in the first paragraph:  So at a certain point in the discussion, Andrew W.K. just freezes. He's sitting stock still and staring and not responding to anyone. This, here, is why I tell people that if you only know Andrew W.K. as the "party hard" guy, you're missing out on a cornucopia of treats.  He's actually morphed into a delightfully provocative and compelling figure. He's basically become this bundle of paradoxes who is constantly subverting expectation and even his own public image. Asking a random sample of Andrew W.K. fans to describe him is like the Blind Men describing the Elephant.  Some people have even conceived crackpot theories that he's not a real person.  He can seem, at different times, like a rock star, a philosopher, a clown, the big brother you wish you had, a geek, a virtuoso, a madman... In short, you are never 100% sure what you're going to get from him, so it's always interesting and fun to see where things are going to go and how, as a spectator, you are going to be engaged or made to feel and react. In a sense, his all-white "costume" has become a metaphorical blank screen on which people are invited to project.

And, really, this is why I like conceptual art in general: because the art becomes this unpredictable synergy between the artist and the audience, with both sides coming together to create the whole...but back to the panel and the frozen Andrew W.K: So the first reaction is confusion. We don't get it at first. Nobody knows what's going on. Do we try to snap him out of it? Do we play along? Do we ignore it?  The situation is amusingly disorienting.  When the panel finished and broke up, he continued to sit there frozen. He's still there? How long is he going to do this?

At a certain point, with the few people remaining there by the stage, things went in another interesting direction: If he's going to behave like an inanimate object, we can treat him like an inanimate object. We all posed for pictures with him.  One person pretended to drink from his glass. Another commented "he smells nice."  

 

 

 

Eventually I wandered off to get another drink and talk to more people.  At a certain point I glanced back and he wasn't there anymore.  Still, I really enjoyed the whole thing, as did my friends when I told them about it later. I think that what Andrew W.K. started back in the early 00's with his music has now become a more multi-faceted approach to provoking emotions and creating experiences... and this is why I urge people to take note of Andrew W.K. and go see him in whatever capacity you can if you have a chance!

Also, I would encourage people to not be a fucking wimp, because if you aren't, you just might have an awesome night and meet lots of interesting people.

From the vault: The "wacky drunken roommate" comics.

So some people still bring up these comics, and since I realize I haven't had them online in ages, I figured I'd repost them here.  The roommate in question is still a friend and still the world's most delightful person.

 

Some art I did recently: trying some new techniques

Occasionally I get hired to a project for the wrong reasons.  That is to say, I am clearly not the person who ought to be doing the job, but I'm still expected to do it and then watch the project fall apart or have me axed from it because I shouldn't have been on it in the first place.  At other points in my career, I found this very depressing as it tended to leave me with feelings of frustration and failure.  

So when I was offered the opportunity to present some ideas for an ad campaign, and I KNEW that it was not going to work out, I decided to find the positive in the situation and just look on it as an opportunity to play with some new techniques and try to expand my horizons.  They told me to do something "hip, edgy, urban, but whimsical and fun."  I pretty much knew my definition of that was not going to be what they wanted, but I was determined to do it anyway and try to enjoy it.

And so I did!  And, then, when I got axed from the project because it wasn't what they wanted (surprise!)  I was still happy that I got to push myself in other directions.  So here's what I presented:

 

My first and only tattoo: or "learn from my mistakes and don't get a tattoo of an obscure dadaist pun that only makes sense in French."

To this day, I still only have one tattoo.  I feel bad saying that I regret it, but...honestly... I often do.  This may seem a contradictory thing to say considering how much artwork I've done that's been tattooed on other people. The thing about tattooing, though, is that it requires a certain type of person to pull off successfully.  That person being, essentially, one that doesn't change their mind.  Trouble is, I'm definitely NOT that person and knowing that now doesn't really help.

I believe it was sometime in early 2000.  This was a particular time in my life that was kind of magical:  I had just transitioned over to doing art for a living and, because I was freelance, I didn't have to go to a "job" anymore.  I had more money and freedom than I'd ever had before.  I had also started performing and was still exhilarated by it. I was, in my small way, living the dream I had come to New York to live. The feeling was very emboldening. I felt like I could do anything. I had a sense of surety and power that imbued everything I did.  

And so, in this state of mind, I took my first trip to San Francisco. While getting silly with one of my good friends (who had many tattoos) she said "Let's go get tattoos together!" and I said "Yes!"  She was surprised and said "do you really mean it?" and when I said "yes" again, she grabbed my by the hand and said, "we have to go do it before you change your mind!"  

Now, it wasn't an entirely impromptu decision.  For over a year I had in my head the "tattoo that I would get if I ever got a tattoo," and that was what I intended to get.  Since I'd thought about it for over a year, I felt like I was making a good decision.  What I wanted was the letters L.H.O.O.Q tattooed on my lower back.  This was a reference to the art piece by Marcel Duchamp (right), which I thought was significant on multiple levels.  

First of all, Marcel Duchamp was a personal hero of mine, so the tattoo would be a tribute to that.  Secondly, the piece itself was an insouciant challenge to classical tradition which fit with my own sense of irreverence. And Thirdly, the whole joke of the piece lies in the fact that the phrase "L.H.O.O.Q." if pronounced in french sounds like the phrase "elle a chaud au cul" which means "she's got a hot ass"...and it's above my butt!  Haw!  So, really, I thought I was making a very sound choice.  I had this vision of sexy art history majors seeing it and falling in love with me.  It was going to be awesome.

But here we come to the whole "changing my mind" part...

So, it turns out that if you have a tattoo that is not immediately comprehensible (like say, a dragon or a butterfly) people expect you to explain it.  And after about the 100th time you explain it, you wish to god you hadn't had it put on your body permanently. During a romantic interlude, when a man would run his fingers over the letters and say "what does that mean?" my mind would heave a sigh: don't make me have to stop and explain this again.

 After a few years, when my shirt would creep up and someone would ask "what's your tattoo mean?" I'd just answer "It means 'don't ever get a tattoo.'"

The unfortunate part is that I didn't stop liking what my tattoo meant--I still love Marcel Duchamp and everything that's implied there--I just got tired of having this public statement that I had to explain.  

So, I guess that you have to be not only a person who doesn't change their mind, but a person who doesn't mind engaging with strangers via your body art.  Just a heads-up kids... give it some thought before you go under the needle.

Shedding the incognito: trying to come to terms with my own identity.

So, For the past two years or so, I've been trying to be "incognito."  Now I once again want to be incog-NEATO! (oh god, please make me stop!)  But seriously, identity can be a slippery eel that's hard to keep a grip on.  

I had a dream when I was a young whippersnapper that my life would be interesting and exciting.  The price one pays for this is facing a greater number of challenges, both internal and external.  When I was younger, my battles always seemed to be external:  Me vs. the world and other people.  With age, the battles became more internal: me vs. me vs. me.  The downside of an "interesting" life is that it has to change all the time and you have to change with it. 

Often, when I'm in transition between one "self" and another, I withdraw into a sort of neutral place and re-emerge when I feel like I'm on steady footing.  Often the transition involves rejecting the past self.  Sometimes I have this visual picture of myself from one year to the next, all the me's standing side by side, then I see all the me's make a 45 degree turn to the right and slap the preceding one upside the head.  And so I rejected the past self.

Only problem is: then I started thinking "but wait!  my past self DID have so much fun!  I STILL WANT THAT!" and so, in the process of rejection, there was a sort of re-integration.  Thank god, because this "neutral" phase has gone on for almost three damned years.  

Much of my problem stemmed from placing my "self" out there for public consumption. I made myself a "brand;" and not only my social life, but my career was tied to it. I chafe under the pressure of having to behave a certain way and live up to specific expectations and when I perceived the "expectation" as coming from some anonymous consciousness in the outside world, I started hiding inside.

Now, being "incognito" has been kind of a lovely learning experience in itself. When I was a kid, I felt like an outsider involuntarily... I was "different" and didn't want to be.  When I was a young adult, I decided to be "different" on purpose.  It became very important to me to be seen and to express myself in everything I did.  Once that became a duty instead of a privilege, it just wasn't as fun anymore.  It felt burdensome. I didn't want other people to be telling me who "myself" was. I went from "freedom" meaning being able to express myself to meaning I didn't have to express myself.

These incognito years were my chance to feel what it's like to be "normal."  I mean, there's only so "normal" a person can be in New York, but I just tried to be as neutral as possible. I still have a certain "physical expressiveness" (aka: awkward nerdiness) that gives me away, but if I dressed normal, I could get away with it.  It was nice not to be pre-judged. It was nice to be able to conceal or reveal myself willfully.  It was nice to feel invisible. It was nice to be happy letting other people shine instead of clamoring for the spotlight.  It was nice to watch from the outside for awhile.

Now I'm trying to take the timeline of my life and take all the disparate parts and re-assemble them into some integrated whole of who I am now.  I'm also trying to balance the negative and the positive.  I've always veered between either extreme.  Either from the egotistical "I WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW HOW GREAT MY LIFE IS!" to the paranoid: "Oh god...everyone just thinks I'm a name-dropping attention whore! Maybe I'm giving the wrong impression!"  And the problem when you "put yourself  out there" is that people will confirm both sides.  Trouble was, I was at the point where I was like "I CAN'T BE WHAT YOU WANT ME TO BE! I WILL ONLY DISAPPOINT YOU! I CAN'T TAKE THE PRESSURE!"  

So, yeah, self-re-assembly.  Stay tuned.

Andrew W.K.'s japan covers may be the greatest thing ever.

This is from an AMAZING album of japanese covers by Andrew W.K. I think the fact that I've been listening to this on repeat for three days proves that my inner 15 year old boy is alive and well.