Madness, Barely

Outer space, under sea, on grass.

From the gray matter of Sammi Skolmoski

Oh right, I have a web thingy.

Here are a few brief descriptions of the things I’ve been doing instead of updating this poor, neglected Interweb page:

1. Here is a horrible, fluorescent-lit photo that offer no detail whatsoever of two paintings (“Garden Lurker” & “Moon Spew”) I had in The Hive’s 7-Year Anniversary Show in April.

“Moon Spew” sold for a quarter-full bottle of Jim Beam and a joint.

2. I was the featured “Tattooed Poet” of the day on the anniversary of Kurt Vonnegut’s death as part of the magical Tattoosday Blog’s celebration of National Poetry Month. (Click RIGHT HERE to be magically transported to the page.)

And that’s that. Issue two of the “Madness, Barely” zine is ready for a pressin’. As usual, email madnessbarely@gmail.com with your address if you’d like a free hard copy.

Oh, and…

3. I acquired a day job as an artisan box-maker here. 

The über talented Noel Jordan asked me to create some cover art for his forthcoming EP called “Art of Memory.” This painting is what I came up with. There isn’t any text on it right now because he has yet to get drunk enough to come up with a name for his new solo project… So just prepare thyselves for this EP by Noel Jordan & the __________s, with my art on the cover. In the meantime, go see him play around San Diego. His voice is so powerful and mesmeric that once a whale rolled out of the bay and into the Tin Can to catch the rest of his set. True story. (I’ll do your album artwork, too. Shoot an email over to madnessbarely@gmail.com and we can discuss le details.)

The über talented Noel Jordan asked me to create some cover art for his forthcoming EP called “Art of Memory.” This painting is what I came up with. There isn’t any text on it right now because he has yet to get drunk enough to come up with a name for his new solo project…

So just prepare thyselves for this EP by Noel Jordan & the __________s, with my art on the cover. In the meantime, go see him play around San Diego. His voice is so powerful and mesmeric that once a whale rolled out of the bay and into the Tin Can to catch the rest of his set.

True story.

(I’ll do your album artwork, too. Shoot an email over to madnessbarely@gmail.com and we can discuss le details.)

I opened an acoustic “Salon Night” show at the Bootleg Theater in Los Angeles this past Saturday, January 7, by reading two of my pieces: “Alchemist’s Lament” and “The Mite is Mightier.” This will happen again, seeing as I didn’t barf on anyone (as I had always assumed would be the case).

I opened an acoustic “Salon Night” show at the Bootleg Theater in Los Angeles this past Saturday, January 7, by reading two of my pieces: “Alchemist’s Lament” and “The Mite is Mightier.”

This will happen again, seeing as I didn’t barf on anyone (as I had always assumed would be the case).

I was asked by local San Diego garage-groovers The Short Eyes to provide art for one of the Saturday nights of their residency (December 17, 2011, to be exact) at Tower Bar in City Heights. The Burning of Rome played as well, and debauchery ensued. The piece I developed and constructed (in two days) was based off a poem I wrote about the frustration of losing all of your subconscious’ best ideas the moment you flip open your eyelids in the morning. So the moon, exhausted, is funneling its essence into the brain of the sleeping, serene, receiving eye via its beatiful drool. The sun, however, is slurping up that same energy from the brain attached to the bloodshot eye, so gluttonously that it is leaking out of her tearducts. The poem is the centerpiece, written in thick black ink on upcycled book pages I glued to upcycled packing paper wrapped around individual strips of recycled cardboard. (I had just moved to Los Angeles, so 90% of the piece is made from recycled moving materials.) Used: Recycled cardboard boxes, leftover packing paper, upcycled books, ripped lace curtains (red, black, blue, white), floral wire, red yarn, faux pearls and battery-operated lights (as the moon drool and sun tears), two loofahs (as the brains), a couple hangers, a garment rack, and recycled thread spools found in a dumpster behind Jo-Ann’s.  Click the photo to see many more photos of the installation via Flickr.

I was asked by local San Diego garage-groovers The Short Eyes to provide art for one of the Saturday nights of their residency (December 17, 2011, to be exact) at Tower Bar in City Heights. The Burning of Rome played as well, and debauchery ensued.

The piece I developed and constructed (in two days) was based off a poem I wrote about the frustration of losing all of your subconscious’ best ideas the moment you flip open your eyelids in the morning. So the moon, exhausted, is funneling its essence into the brain of the sleeping, serene, receiving eye via its beatiful drool. The sun, however, is slurping up that same energy from the brain attached to the bloodshot eye, so gluttonously that it is leaking out of her tearducts. The poem is the centerpiece, written in thick black ink on upcycled book pages I glued to upcycled packing paper wrapped around individual strips of recycled cardboard.

(I had just moved to Los Angeles, so 90% of the piece is made from recycled moving materials.)

Used: Recycled cardboard boxes, leftover packing paper, upcycled books, ripped lace curtains (red, black, blue, white), floral wire, red yarn, faux pearls and battery-operated lights (as the moon drool and sun tears), two loofahs (as the brains), a couple hangers, a garment rack, and recycled thread spools found in a dumpster behind Jo-Ann’s. 

Click the photo to see many more photos of the installation via Flickr.

CLICK THE PHOTO to view (many, many, many) more detailed photos, and to see them modeled by actual, live human heads. These are space helmets (clockwise - Asteroid, Jupiter, Earth, Sun, Saturn) I made for members of The Burning of Rome to wear during live performances (or at home, if they are so inclined) made out of a wide variety of re-appropriated materials like Ikea lantern shades, an old globe, soundproofing foam, pipe cleaners, an empty PBR box, gardening wire, spray paint, ribbon, an old dog collar, battery-operated light strands, and old newspapers, et al.  You can also watch a short, live video of them performing in the helmets here. (The clip is missing sound, due to a lack of knowledge of how to work a fancy phone.) If you need a Space Helmet (or any helmet… or any costume… for any reason) I can help. Email madnessbarely@gmail.com for more info.

CLICK THE PHOTO to view (many, many, many) more detailed photos, and to see them modeled by actual, live human heads.

These are space helmets (clockwise - Asteroid, Jupiter, Earth, Sun, Saturn) I made for members of The Burning of Rome to wear during live performances (or at home, if they are so inclined) made out of a wide variety of re-appropriated materials like Ikea lantern shades, an old globe, soundproofing foam, pipe cleaners, an empty PBR box, gardening wire, spray paint, ribbon, an old dog collar, battery-operated light strands, and old newspapers, et al. 

You can also watch a short, live video of them performing in the helmets here. (The clip is missing sound, due to a lack of knowledge of how to work a fancy phone.)

If you need a Space Helmet (or any helmet… or any costume… for any reason) I can help. Email madnessbarely@gmail.com for more info.

“I, Thief of Bygone Gaze”

“I, Thief of Bygone Gaze”

“Sun Barf in the Cow Foot Sea”

A painting made for a friend who requested that the piece contain an aquatic element.

For some reason my subconscious likens the sun to Al Roker.

AUTUMN BECKONS AND NOW IS THE RECKONING (This poem is included in Issue 1 of the Madness, Barely zine. If you’d like a free hard copy, email your address to madnessbarely@gmail.com and I will shoot one through the USPS vacuum tube.)

AUTUMN BECKONS AND NOW IS THE RECKONING

(This poem is included in Issue 1 of the Madness, Barely zine. If you’d like a free hard copy, email your address to madnessbarely@gmail.com and I will shoot one through the USPS vacuum tube.)

The Mite is Mightier

The unforgiving morning light gave way to an urgent flip of her eyelids and an insurmountable heap of regret. She had fallen asleep.

Her apartment was evidence of a moonlit feast. The armoir was dust. The shelves, devoured. Furniture, hollowed. Nothng stood as it should.

She hoped they were satisfied. Full, even. She didn’t see them, after all. But inside she knew, like her, they were ravenous.

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