I
feel like a dumbshit writing about art.
But that hasn’t stopped me from doing it. Partially by design but mostly by accident this blog/project
has become a repository for my own throw away “art” and a place where I like to
think I’m celebrating the graveyard of art that nobody seems to give a shit
about. I’m stumbling around in the
dark as I navigate these waters.
I’m sure it shows.
I’ve
always been at a crossroad either lost in art and having a snide aversion to
it. Maybe I see too much “art” not
enough action? I’ve come to
understand I’m surrounded by art, and artists and it’s like living in a made up
world. I mean that in the everyday
sense. From the movies I’ve seen
to going to concerts to walking by billboards to taking a shit in a public
toilet. The art is everywhere and
it feels like a façade with no real meaning that builds a reality that is
shared and leased. It’s made me
start to revere history a little more as it seems to be less “made up” than art
and a lot more hopeful than politics.
But my actions with this blog have been less than academic in respect to
history. I talk too much
shit. History is written by
whoever takes the time but the permanency of the written word makes me feel
like a fool. I’m more interested
in entertaining myself here as opposed to saying how shit “went down.” But maybe the two are not mutually
exclusive. I mean history is made
up too right?
A
portion of this mixed feeling stems from my own lack of direction to where my
“art” will be taking me next or if I’m willing to keep riding that art train at
all. I’m sick of always wondering
what’s it all about. But it
doesn’t feel like I’m able to stop.
I still feel like yelling.
Constantly. Loudly. Even if it’s yelling at a wall. And yet no matter how loud I get I’m
screaming in a vacuum. The
intensity of the silence scares me knowing my voice is just echoing off the
canyons and it’ll soon die down. I
think about all those things that happen that disappear into nothingness.
Mortality
creeps in. I sense the Earth and
the universe of which I’m a tiny atom.
I talk myself into believing that to create is to make something that
outlasts life. It tricks me into
thinking there’s more to what I’m doing then there really is. Even if the words are bullshit the fact
that they’re written and forever engraved on the page makes it truth whether or
not it is. The fact that so few
people write makes it seem more truthful even if it’s lies. Not just that; it also lives on as my
mortal shell disintegrates. It
makes history appear as subjective as art. It makes propaganda seem like valid education. It makes me fucking flush with myself
and perhaps that’s the point of creating to make something outside myself for
which I have a semblance of control.
Goddamn it’s been a while since I got laid.
Maybe some perspective is in order.
I
was dating a woman last year who worked as a stage manager for a local
theatrical company. One night we
were talking about our work and she mentioned how she was looking to get out of
the theatre world. She’d grown
tired of demanding actors and artists who lived only in the ME and punctuated
it with a story about how she was involved in a play that had a rape scene. She confided in me how she was a victim
of sexual assault herself and went on to describe the pains she went through
trying to maintain a professional disposition as an actor tried to immerse
herself in the role of the rape victim over and over again in rehearsals.
Art
has been a religion to me at different times in my life. Food and drink. Sustenance. When I see the shortcomings like the one illustrated above it
makes me wonder how much phony bullshit I’ve been eating. How healthy can that
be? How much phony bullshit have I
spouted? How close to the truth
can you come? And who gives a shit
if you did? So what else can I do
as I crawl into middle age? Have a
family? Activism? Terrorism? Hedonism? Hiding away? I’ve been a chipping away at all these things too. Except terrorism. OK FBI?
Yelling
at a wall is all well and good but it’s a few steps away from being a
schizophrenic. And perhaps it’s
less amusing when everyone else is yelling too. I laugh at how meaningless it can feel. Somehow it relaxes me as I think of how
unimportant my voice is among millions.
Billions. It makes me more
determined to never shut up. Why
stop now? We’re all talking at the
same time anyways and ultimately no one speaks for me. I gave up caring whether I was heard a
while ago. Yet I keep listening,
and I’m not hearing anything that has anything to do with me. It’s that silence that pisses me off
more than any sound in the world. It’s unnerving more than pathetic to know there are so many
people and yet a stony silence pervades.
It makes the loneliness more unbearable.
And so the yelling continues. I look into the past for some foothold from when I seemed to
have a firm grasp. Into the future
I look for a destination to make sense.
In the present I shake in my shoes or find some way to light the fuse. Or just to escape. Again.
When
I get in these moods when I’m so full of myself, full of shit, demanding too
much, asking myself questions that are impossible to answer, jaded, uninspired,
and flat out disgusted something fucking weird will usually happen.
I
met Dave Gilbert at the second Zinecon.
There were a lot of good zinesters, artists, and nincompoops in
attendance but I was struck by Dave’s work. I did a shitty interview with him that somehow got destroyed
on tape. It’s largely unwatchable
but if you fast forward to about 2:45 in the clip posted above you’ll get a
nice dose of his artwork that I was able to capture on that day.
I
walked away impressed with Usurp Toe and wondered how this guy was around for
so long yet I’d never heard of him. I bought a copy of his graphic novel and the years skipped
by. I posted this interview two
years ago and quickly forgot about it.
Of
all the forgotten artists I’ve written about on this blog I was most surprised
when someone contact me about this horribly butchered video interview. It happened when some guy named Thomas
Cook from Ohio got in touch with me regarding Dave Gilbert. Turns out he is a huge fan and he was
real excited to see Dave in an interview.
We corresponded at length about Usurp Toe and Gilbert’s creations. It got me excited to remember those
hilarious comics that I barely got to enjoy. I’ve since lost my one copy of Usurp Toe so I begged Thomas
to send me some scans of his collection which I could share here. He balked at the thought of sharing
someone else’s work since it wasn’t his own. But he sent along Dave’s address and told me to ask the man
himself.
I
wrote a letter to Dave anxious to see what he’s up to now. The letter came back return to
sender. I continued to talk with
Thomas Cook and we both wondered what had become of Dave. Somewhere in the course of our emails
he mentioned the fact that Dave had amassed a body of animated films. Holy shit! I’d forgotten how Dave mentioned working with animation in
the interview and shortly thereafter Thomas sent me a link to those very
animations. It was here that I came
to realize that Dave Gilbert has since passed away. The youtube page with those animations states plainly that
these are “Cartoons and videos by the late D.W. Gilbert.”
Mortality
creeps in again but this time it was more than philosophizing about death, art,
and egos. The point being that the
celebration of Gilbert’s life continues through the lasting impression of his
incredible art and humor. I justify
my chest thumping stabs at free expression because I can’t see my self being represented
but here is a voice that is saying the stuff I want to hear and creating worlds
I want to know. It’s that
proximity to my life and my world that gives Dave’s work a value that’s hard to
measure and a comfort that is hard to put into words. I see it as a gift from
Dave. He probably never thought of
it that way which makes it all the more special. It speaks to me and for me and that’s not something I see
too often. Maybe it will speak to
you. If not I really don’t care.
The
animations included here are only the tip of the iceberg.
I suggest cracking a beer and watching
all the clips included on the
Usurptoe youtube channel.
They are intelligent but grounded in
reality making them equal parts genius and surreal firecracker thrown in your
face.
Not to try and wrap this all
up with a pretty bow but Usurp Toe is a genuine triumph of art.
Communication, understanding, and the
ability to identify with something even if you aren’t sure what the point
is.
I’m
not sure what programs Dave used to make these short films but the personality
and laughs are easy to discern. It
makes me thankful that he took the time to make these films. I think he made them for himself
because there is no intersection of art and commerce in these pieces. Or maybe he was chasing the dream we’re
all sold that we can be stars if we work hard enough? That we can get our point across if we just keep
trying. In any event they’re made
from pure inspiration and designed to inflict joy. I think they do the job.
His
graphic novels were equally inspired.
I’m including the one issue that Mr. Thomas Cook was kind enough to scan
for me. Mr. Cook is a true fan of
Dave’s work. Thanks very much to
him for reminding me of this immense talent. In our email exchanges he mentioned to me that he feels that
Dave Gilbert is an Outsider Artist through his work in film and illustration. I think everyone I’ve touched on with
this blog should be considered Outsider Artists. If you’ll excuse me I’ve got some more walls to go yell at.
Below you will find the issue of Psychopath that Thomas Cook emailed to me. Much thanks to Thomas for sharing. Hopefully he'll send more scans as it sounds like he's got several issues of Dave's work.
