http://dashboardco-op.org/ en bethmalone12@yahoo.com Copyright 2010 2010-06-11T14:54:22+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/christian_gordy/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/christian_gordy/#When:13:54:22Z Beth:    Is the fat, nude guy supposed to be a Grand Dragon? Court:  No, he’s an executioner. Beth:    Is the steeple his penis? Court:  Yeah, I’m pretty sure he has an erection. Beth:    [Turns head sideways] Huh…I dig it. Court:  [Turns head sideways] Me too. Hey Gordy, I need some images of your work for the site. Hey Beth, I have to ride to the city to get a license. Can you text me in a bit to remind me, I’m really stoned. Hey Beth, I just read over my answers to your questions. I kinda come off like an asshole. Will this work? Sorry. Hey Gordy, we like assholes at Dash. And no, you sound great. Christian Gordy used to live in Atlanta, now he lives in Brooklyn. Gordy is an illustrator and graphic designer, he’s probably a doodler too. His work often looks as if pencil never leaves page until the lines he etches create an identifiable form. In one fluid motion, out comes the image of some joke that had been taking over the goop of his brain—a squiggly, farcical purge. Beth Malone/Dashboard:Your work is humor-based. Do you consider it satirical, too? If so, what or whom are you baiting? Christian Gordy: I’m really just trying to entertain myself and my friends. It’s fun and kinda therapeutic. Dash: Do you ever erase? CG: Yes. Occasionally. Dash: Where ya from? CG: Louisiana, Florida and Georgia Dash: Do you feel excommunicated from ATL’s art community now that you’re in NY or do you still feel a part of it? CG: I never felt like I was part of any art scene there. I just hung out with drunk people. But yeah, there are some great artists in Atlanta: R Land, Cooper Sanchez, Meeg Sanchez, Willie Jinks. Dash: There are a lot of ATL transplants Brooklyn, myself included for the time being. Is it possible to build connectivity between ATL and NY through the arts?  And in that regard, can NY lend credibility to ATL’s art world? CG: I’d say there’s already a strong connection. I think the music scenes in Atlanta and New York are pretty tightly knit. NY needs a bit of the South in it, so ATL will ultimately lend credibility to NY’s art world. Dash: Tell me about sitting down to create a piece. CG: I usually have the TV on something really bad—Judge Joe Brown or something like that. Music distracts me too much. I just try to focus on not focusing, I guess. Does that make sense? As far as my immediate surrounding: a bottle of Kombucha (Gingerberry), cookies (goat cheese-chocolate chip), my Sultan Rogers carving and a picture of the pope. Dash: Anyone you like to collaborate with? CG: Not really, I did a piece with Cooper one time. That was fun. I guess I collaborate with my friends a lot without really thinking about it. So yeah, I have that covered. Dash: Which artists, past or present, knock your socks off? CG: RA Miller, Dwight Macintosh, Royal Robertson, Howard Finster, Purvis Young. There’s lots of other stuff too, but these guys made a big impact on the way I think about art or whatever at a crucial time. Dash: What’s with the Wesley Snipes? CG: Eh, just a name I picked out of the blue. It’s a really great name. Maverick 2010-06-11T13:54:22+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/plastic_aztecs/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/plastic_aztecs/#When:00:08:08Z Founded in 2008, the Plastic Aztecs fuse sci-fi, tomfoolery, fluorescents, the time/space continuum and spandex to encourage public participation in large, orchestrated events. The Atlanta collective has, in Dashboard’s opinion, side-stepped art as installation and moved into the medium of social practice. Most recently, their spring exhibition, GROW, at Beep Beep Gallery, saw the artists create an interactive experience where viewers climbed through a make-shift cave and made eye contact with pokey sword-things. They turned the white walled-space into an adult-sized diorama that fueled imaginations while simultaneously dissecting them. Beth Malone/Dashboard: Individually how have all your backgrounds lent themselves to forming Plastic Aztecs? Art school? Circus? Summers on Coney Island? Plastic Aztecs: 
We met on an ice fishing trip. At first, we were all enemies because we were jealous of each other’s muscles, but we were individually and eventually brought together over our mutual love of drinking liquor and sweet polar bear wrestling skills.When we began we didn’t really have any expectations about what this meant or where it was going—it was just a way to interact with people we like. There is a nice balance with four people: we all cover different perspectives but feel really good about discussing them and trading e-mails, videos, philosophies, and books. Dash: How long have you been collaborating and how has the collective evolved over time? PA: Since 2008, it’s been a transition from hanging out and discussing ideas to making artwork and doing shows together. Dorothy and Andrea put together Neon Apocalypse at Eyedrum, inspired by reading about 2012 and visiting the Natural History Museum in NYC. We decided to fashion a super-future museum view of the “Apocalypse” that occurred in the past. Seasonal and/or cyclic change and perception of time continue to play into our shows. The second show was Intergalactic Strongthang Competition, an art show about an intergalactic “Olympics”. We chose the theme on New Years Eve 2008, and it was held in July 2009. ISC revolved around the flash and pomp of a universal sporting event but was also a serious discussion about competition. That show was a brainchild of Becky, Dorothy, and Andrea – but at that point Erin entered the process. The most recent show, GROW, done in winter 2010 at Beep Beep, included all four of us. We went over the top to generate work and overtake a space with interpreted nature, like a gallery and show left to decay and become more. GROW was a departure, a true experiment, and we got a feel of each others’ space and tendencies, which will be helpful in defining our next show. 
 Dash: Can each of you tell me a bit about your chosen mediums and about the things you gain inspiration from? 
 PA: We are all very interested in experimentation and going in directions that defy our personal expectations. We have individual interests and favored mediums that we all want to explore. Working together influences our awareness of materials and themes.  A main focus of the collective is to explore new ways of bringing ideas to life. The Neon Apocalypse taught us about resin and molding, sand and light. With Intergalactic Strongthang Competition, we played with marketing, faux sponsorship, and looking at beautiful bodies in an “alien” way. GROW became a study of both sculptural and aural nature. Ultimately, our expeditions in materials synchronize and perform together. Dash: Before I knew who you all were, I thought you were dudes. Does this mean I’m sexist? Or does it mean your work has overt masculine tendencies? Either way, I’m a sexist, bigoted pig-face. 
 PA: In a post-gender world, everyone is a dude. Maybe your confusion is really only a rhetoric issue, since we talk about ideas more than our genitals—even though the reverse can be fun sometimes. For the record, The Plastic Aztecs believe experiencing gender is different for everyone, so we haven’t really been interested in it being an aspect of self by which we are defined. Our philosophy in general is more inclusive than exclusive. It is tough balance, but we all agree that gender applies more to the past. Hopefully, in the future of art, gender won’t be a point of departure. We have collaborated with outstanding male artists such as Wes Cummings, Morgan Cooper, Zarlacc, and Andrew Nicholson. The fact we are female artists is more a system of happenstance or birth or luck or whatever. We have really similar goals, but being female is not an exclusive quality of artistic voice of in this collective. Dash: Had you intended on gender playing a role in your work? Even if you hadn’t, it does. Would public response be different if you were all fellas? 
 PA: No. We think the only difference is that if we were all guys, no one would ask us about gender. Dash: Is being an artist, in ATL or elsewhere, easier if you are part of a collective? Meaning, is it easier to gain recognition in numbers? 
 PA: It seems that for both the viewers and for us there is a wonderful mystique created by the collective mind of four people working together. Also, there is sort of an alter-ego shield that working in a group provides for artists, as you create a collective ego.  A good book to read about this sense of otherness that naturally happens when minds work together is The Third Mind by William S. Burroughs and Brion Gysin.  It seems to that a collective is a really wonderful place to begin working and thinking about how to define what you’re doing because there is so much influence to process. Dash: How is the ATL art scene doin these days? You guys feel change in the air? PA: There is definitely change in the air, which is natural. We hope it never stops – change makes behavior more dynamic and interesting. There seems to be a lot more people working together. Perhaps a specific catalyst necessitated more interest in our peers in DIY or working with other people (currently relevant topics in our social spheres), but who is to say what that catalyst is: low economy, more instant communication than ever before, more attunement to a collective unconsciousness, etc?  Maybe people are just getting better at engaging each other as the dialog expands. We know the bar of quality keeps getting higher. Atlanta has seen excellent shows so far this year, and we will be very happy to see more. Maverick 2010-06-11T00:08:08+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/dave_batterman/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/dave_batterman/#When:23:26:12Z The living room was pitch black. I fumbled for the light, flipped the switch…nothing. Remembering that the bulb had blown days before I, once again, acknowledged it would likely never get fixed due to a household passivity regarding daily tasks.  As I peered around the room trying to find a lamp, my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. That’s when I saw him. Sitting silently on the couch, staring at me with tiny, beedy, evil black eyes. I rea— “Hey,” light filled the room. I spun around. Court was behind me in some sort of pastel slacks outfit. “I just bought that. How d’ya like it?” “It’s awesome—totally freaked me out,” I said looking back at the picture of the stoic, iridescent old guy.  “I know, I love it. By some photographer—Dave Batterman.”  Dave is an Atlanta-based artist whose work typically appears in surrealist, thematic series that detail the lives and environments of those in which he’s enmeshed. The image stalking me from the couch was of Dave’s grandpa Eldo for his series, Alabama Portraits. Dash: How do you choose the subjects of your pics? DB: It’s a fifty/fifty divide between ideas that come to me versus things that just unfold naturally due to circumstances. As much as I love bringing a whole idea from infancy to fruition, the everyday random things jump out and grab me. Dash: You often shoot a conceptual series of photographs—what does this lend to your work as a whole?  DB: It’s difficult for me to flesh out an idea in its entirety in just one photograph. Most of my series come from very specific concepts that I want to explore, so doing multiples I think lends to a better translation. Dash: I liked the Pine Magazine show at Picaflor when you photographed your subjects in their homes and had audio of them talking.  DB:: I did a series last year called “Friends and Their Backyards” and it started me on the idea of static portraits of people in their surroundings. I liked the idea of capturing people in their homes; in the places that they choose to build around them. And it also started me thinking about my first memories of “home” and the idea of how those two things—the present and the remembered past—work in conjunction with each other.  Overall, I think it turned out the way I wanted it to. I actually have a lot more to work on with it, trying to get up to around twenty or so images total. Dash: For all them dweebies out there, what kind of equipment do you use?  DB: I shoot only digital nowadays, although I cut my teeth in college and high school in the film era. There’s definitely been a huge change, but I can’t deny liking the amount of control and other more nerdy elements that the digital process allows. I mainly shoot a Nikon D90, with just a couple of lenses and some speedlights. I like to keep it simple. Dash: Many of your pics are very surreal, is that how you see the world or would like to see it? DB:: I’ve always been fascinated by the cut ups that Burroughs and Gysin did, this concept that our perception is constantly being interrupted and fragmented. I’d like to think that my work shows these small details – these fragments—in a static way that enables us to observe them individually and not as the jumbled [mass], which is the way we normally see. Time is the result of a series of innumerable events all crashing into one another, so I think the surreal nature of our lives is readily self-evident to those who want to see it that way. Dash: You often orchestrate your shots, creating a composition. What, no action shots? Why? DB: Oh, I love the action shots as much as the next person.  But I guess a lot of my subjects tend to be static. Honestly, I haven’t really thought much about it until now. Hmm. Dash: We really dig your mirrored images. The one of the deer makes me feel goosey. Where’s the genitalia?!  DB:They’re a lot of fun. I always love symmetry in things so it’s my way of forcing a symmetrical form onto distinctly asymmetrical things. As far as deer genitalia, I don’t think they have them. I hear they reproduce by sneezing. More Dave Photographs 2010-06-10T23:26:12+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/nimmer_aleck/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/nimmer_aleck/#When:20:27:20Z Nimer Aleck II grew up in central Michigan spending time in family members’ garages and sewing rooms because, well, that’s what Michigan landers do. That’s right, I said Michigan landers. And people from Connecticut are called Connecuters. This should give you sufficient ammo just in case anyone from ye ole’ Nutmeg State ever cuts you off during rush hour. Nimer has a Bachelors in fine art from Central Michigan University and is currently working on his MFA at Georgia State University. His focus is to create work that prods at our choice of purchase and how it’s intertwined with who we consider ourselves to be, but never taking itself too seriously, there is a jolt of humor in his highly-crafted pieces of art. His three headed hammer looks as though it could very well be sold at Lowes right next to the two-panned shovel and 8-pronged wrench (see Multitools). Courtney Hammond/Dashboard: Explain the absurdity in your tools and in your work as a whole. Why a three-headed hammer? Nimer Aleck II: I find absurdity, and humor to be an excellent tool for breaking down some of the contextual barriers between my art and the community that views it. Dash: Why do you assume there are barriers? Do you produce work assuming that your viewer is coming from a completely different place than yourself? NA: Not that I assume a complete disconnect - but I prepare for the possibility of one. Assuming the barrier gives me more of an opportunity to account for them and therefore I shoot for a general relationship instead of such an abstruse one. Dash: So you offer a user-friendly art commentary? Now share with me a peer inside this theory of consumerism. NA: The buying and selling of goods is the process in which the majority of the general public uses to relate to the outside world. Nearly all of our needs are satisfied through some system of marketing and consumption. Dash: How does that translate into your art? NA:I have chose to immerse myself, and my work, in the research, observation, and pensive commentary on our existing culture of consumption. This interest is further fueled the contrast between my personal theology and the observation of my own addiction to the act of consuming. How we consume, the materialization of value, and the flux in our value system created by an inherent lack of conservation are major themes in my artwork. Dash: Do you feel it a struggle to make works that are statements about issues outside of the art world?  Why do you feel it is necessary to do so? NA: I find that all too often those of us who spend our days completely immersed in the arts begin to focus our commentary back on ourselves and focus only on the culture surrounding the fine arts. Most the time it works out or goes unnoticed by the majority of the art consuming public. Dash: Do you feel that artists have a responsibility to purchase, trade or barter each other’s work in order to maintain a sense of support? NA:I have always been one of those artists with bare walls.  While I believe the cultivation of a community of artists is important, I have never put much weight in the ownership of art. Unless you end up with deep pockets then you best give some support of a more fiscal nature. Good friends, collaborators, and connections end up being of much more support to an artistic community, for me, than a few hundred bucks or a sculpture between friends. Dash: Deep pockets I don’t have – however, my addiction remains solid. What is this award series you are working on? I saw a mountain of disassembled trophies in your studio recently. Are you working on something or are you a part of an over the hill t – ball league I am not aware of? NA: No t-ball. And you aren’t suppose to see those yet. Dash: Sorry, I am a sneak, and am still going to punk you out so - do tell. NA: Most recently my work has focused on the proliferation of award culture and its effects on our perceptions of value. This current body of work uses the iconography of the popular modern trophy to display and understand the way we appreciate value. Materials and techniques have been chosen that point out visual tools used by industry to alter our recognition of value. It is my goal to expose the disconnection between perceived and tangible worth. Dash: f anything is a pure example of fake worth – it is a trophy. Seems these days - kids get trophies for not pooping on the floor. Who am I kidding; I still have my, “didn’t poop on the floor this Wednesday” trophy in the attic. I know there isn’t any intrinsic value in it - but its so shiiiiinney.  Strange - I suppose I am a sucker for fake gold and tiny athletes just like the next guy. More Nimmer. EDITORS NOTE: Playing the “guess what people from [insert state here] are called!” Is a very good game to play on road trips.  Sculpture 2010-06-10T20:27:20+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/kerry_jones/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/kerry_jones/#When:13:04:50Z Kerry Jones is a force. She’s confrontational; she’s gorgeous, bold and has rockin’ style. She’s also nurturing and innately generous, constantly aware of her surroundings, and of the people filing those spaces. Encyclopedic words roll off her tongue and four-course meals can be thrown together in minutes. Mrs. Jones, boyz, Mrs. Jones.  She’s a fashion designer based in Brooklyn who worships knit textures and lace, and squeals about a serendipitous form and structure. She’s also worked in collaboration with other artists to make conceptual installation pieces that utilize audio mixing, live models and textiles in a sculptural way. Her label, Royal Jelly, allows Kerry to manipulate fabrics to emphasize the beauty of the female body but also offers her the freedom to employ architectural techniques and create pieces that could just as easily decorate a wall. Kerry Jones: What drives me to make is that most existing fashion, specifically modern stuff, doesn’t excite me. I’ll see a piece at a boutique or on a girl on the street and be like, “oh that’s cool, but I would change this aspect of it.” I’m a control freak. Creating a garment exactly the way I want to, with all aspects in perfect harmony, truly satisfies. And then when a girl is like, “I love that, holy cow, I must own that,” I’m like, “whoa, cool.” I knit and crochet headpieces and shoulder wraps. I really love chunky huge yarn that’s so, so soft. Twinkle rocks. I create kimonos in variation. I also do lots of shrugs, capes, boleros and wraps. Distressed fabrics make a garment super unique. But yeah, creating sculptural statement pieces is what I do. I love materials; I love my fabrics. I use them because they are special, unique, rich and nowhere else. I am constantly collecting, scouring the world for fabrics. I find them everywhere, in all states I’ve been to, from all decades. If I see something I like and want to incorporate into my collection, my thesis, my name, I grab it. I also really love vintage fabrics. Print is the vital, make or break criteria for me when it comes to choosing fabrics, but the hand of the fabric is a close second. Fit and cut are also huge. I have an affinity for Japanese fabrics and customs, and Japanese fashion in general. I play off the kimono shape with swinging sleeves, but modernize it by shortening the length, lowering the neckline, embellishing and subtracting the obi. Don’t get me wrong, I am obsessed with the obi, I just haven’t delved into all I want to delve into when it comes to the obi. Stay tuned. In terms of modern fashion, cut is the most exciting aspect. Rick Owens, Alexander McQueen, Matthew Williamson, Donna Karan, Rodarte, these designers are pushing the boundaries when it comes to shaping a garment to a woman’s body in new and outrageous, yet flattering, ways. The body plays a huge role. I’m a woman with curves and know that we all have glorious curves that we’re proud of and wanna accentuate, but that we also have ones we don’t love as much. I admire all types of bodies, every model I work with I’m like, “Whoa, you have such an amazing body!” Because she does. I totally love the process of conceptualizing a piece, creating the piece from specific fabric and thread and whatever else I choose, and then seeing it done and on the body and loving it. Or changing it. Or seeing it six months later and being like “ew,” or like “FUCK YES.” I just love the whole process of making, all the mistakes and all the triumphs. Kerry’s work is for sale on Etsy and in Honey & Hazel in Brooklyn. Visit her Web site or contact her Maverick 2010-06-10T13:04:50+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/romy_maloon/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/romy_maloon/#When:21:10:45Z “One of the best compliments I ever heard about my work was, ‘I want to eat it. It looks like candy.’ To make someone want to eat a blood splatter is an accomplishment in my book.”                                                                       Romy Maloon Romy is American born but her roots—and her shocking red hair—stem directly from South Africa. The bulk of her artistic influence is from stories her family has shared about their rocky transition from one continent to other just before her birth.  Romy Maloon: They left in 1986 right as apartheid was ending. It was before black Africans got the right to vote, but as they were slowly desegregating institutions. There had been (and still is) mounting violence as a result, so my parents thought it best to pick-up and emigrate. My dad was even in the South African army, as all white males of his generation were required to do. And he worked as a doctor in the Townships. I think it was almost an accident that they ended up in America; a lot of my relatives are in Australia and Canada. They had heard and seen some American movies and music, even though they were censored or banned under apartheid, and they kind of bought into the “American Dream,” “streets are paved with gold” mentality. They moved to freezing Worchester, Massachusetts. They had never seen snow in their lives; I don’t think they knew what they were getting into. That’s why they moved to Atlanta. I glean a lot of my artistic influence from my family. I think most people experience a generational divide with their parents, especially if they are immigrants. I like to explore that space. I saw a lot of African art growing up because my parents collect it, so I’ve always had a fascination with the way artifacts could be used to mimic nature. I take stock African and American kitsch images and change them to appear beautiful rather then disturbing. Dash: You went to the Ringling College of Art and Design, did your schooling create the path in which you work now or did you find your voice independently? RM: I loved living in a small town like Sarasota, especially since it’s right on the beach, but after graduating there’s just not much job opportunity, unless I wanted to paint kitschy beach paintings. Don’t get me wrong, I love kitsch, it’s definitely a huge influence on my work, but I needed more job security then that. Right now, I work as a party coordinator so, in addition to planning, I make invitations and center-pieces. It satisfies my need to mindlessly craft. I’ve actually started to see that influencing my work now: “center-piece aesthetic,” I call it. Usually a single object masked by some sort of surface cover: glitter, rhinestones, moss, whatever. It’s actually using all of the materials and decorative processes my thesis teacher would have hated in college. It’s kind of liberating to use gold leafing as a mindlessly decorative element as opposed to a comment on the nature of gold leaf itself. Dash: Do you feel that you have ample opportunity in Atlanta as an artist? RM: I think Atlanta allows me to have the big fish small pond thing. I lived in Brooklyn for a while. To show there, anywhere there, you had to be connected in some way. There was a lot of legwork that went into just showing. I work 9-5, so even though I’d like to, I don’t have a lot of time to make it to all of the art openings or gatherings in Atlanta I’d like to, but I still feel like I’m able to make connections, even through the Internet. That’s how I got a show at Beep Beep where ya’ll [Dashboard] saw my work. Dash: I have seen some of you work and I find a reoccurring gun-theme. Why guns? RM: The original catalyst was an interest in South African big game hunting. I have always had a fascination with taxidermy, especially exotic taxidermy. I remember when I was little one of my parents’ friends had antelope taxidermies and zebra skins; while most of my friends were made very uncomfortable by them, I was mesmerized. For a long time I actually avoided using guns in my work. I think they became a really over-used image in art and I didn’t want my work to be dismissed as trendy. But the more I studied African history, taxidermy and hunting, I realized I couldn’t avoid using such a powerful symbol. Dash: Using straightforward symbolism can be dangerous. Do you find that people often misinterpret or over-interpret your work? RM: I don’t really like work that tells you what to think—art that’s too political or has a very specific message to tell you. I think it becomes a one-liner. Why keep looking at something if you’ve already gotten everything from it? I like the dichotomy of how one person will look at my work and assume it’s an anti-hunting statement. Another person will look at my work and tell me they have been hunting since they were children and my work would look great hanging next to their actual taxidermies. One of the best compliments I ever heard about my work was that it was “very disturbing, but so pretty I want to eat it. It looks like candy.” To make someone want to eat a blood splatter is an accomplishment in my book. Sculpture 2010-06-03T21:10:45+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/the_tatusfaction/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/the_tatusfaction/#When:16:09:58Z Next time you’re in line at the bank behind a guy in a rad suit, or sitting next to a hot dame at Cactus Carwash, or giving the finger to some bozo in a Ford Escort, pontificate on the fact that any one of these folks could be part of a collective filling your community with beautiful art work. The $tatusFaction operate under the guise of total anonymity, a movement of LA and ATL-based artists who function as a single entity to provide commentary on social imperfections through their black and white wheat-paste prints, traditional graffiti and sculpture. Courtney Hammond/Dashboard: Who or what is The $tatus Faction? The $tatus Faction: In short, we are a multi-dimensional collective composed of anonymous, creative individuals. We are assorted artists, activists, designers, musicians, filmmakers, DJ’s and more, all working together. We all wasted time complaining about what we could do different to combat complacency. Eventually, we stopped talking and started doing. T$F set out with a grassroots course of action to evolve our own habitat. Dash:  Where can people find your work? T$F:  We are in the streets, often in modern street art and traditional graffiti. We are also present in respected galleries, live events and community affairs. Geographically, our art can be seen in Los Angeles and Atlanta. Dash: How does the art landscape between L.A. and Atlanta differ? T$F: On the streets of L.A. art and graffiti have a short shelf life. Between the buff and the beef it is much more challenging to leave your mark. The law certainly helps dictate this too; strict punishments in California result in extended prison time. In Atlanta, we have heard of vandals being arrested 5+ times and set free. This would not be possible in Los Angeles. Do not forget California’s “three strikes ” law, which means ANY three felonies equals life in prison. In Atlanta, there seems to be a lack of vandal-squad and city cleaning, which isn’t a bad thing for us. Graffiti seems to ride forever in Atlanta. Writers cherish the history and hometown heroes; old graffiti is practically preserved! In L.A., anything goes. People excavate walls to steal famous stencils. They cap legends with trash, and some writers specifically target city-commissioned murals. As Atlanta grows in population and urbanization, so will its diversity and contribution to art. We do not see as much street art or ingenuity respected in Atlanta - AS OF YET. The people who relentlessly work in Atlanta hold it down, we are inspired by their enthusiasm and dedication. In Atlanta, we can push the limit and processes to execute that which is logistically improbable in L.A. However, because Angelinos are more attuned to our concepts, we are faster to receive the proper reaction in Los Angeles. In Atlanta, we are both patient and proactive. Fortunately we travel between Atlanta and Los Angeles to get the best of both worlds. We are grateful to be part of both communities. Dash: How do you consider your work in the street— art, advertising or vandalism? T$F: All of the above. We consider it “artistic vandalism” with a lean more towards the vandal side. Dash: How do you conceptualize your images? T$F: Our content stems from the reflection of our opinions and feelings in the moment, the age old cliché “Art Imitates Life.” Occasionally, we focus on topical issues and strike while the iron is hot. Whether it’s an obnoxious trend, a contention with pop-culture or an affecting political climate, if we feel the need to chime in, we will. Dash: Is everything a group effort or is it a free for all? T$F: Ordinarily we contribute according to individual strengths. We think-tank with an open dialogue. We have no set rules or structure. Just do it well and make it $tatus. Maverick 2010-06-02T16:09:58+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/jtrav/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/jtrav/#When:19:46:44Z Stats: 29 years-old (recently spent birthday at Trader Vics); hails outta sunny Lilburn, GA; BA in Graphic Design from GSU; plays guitar and sings in ATL band Sealions; avid runner. The Man Behind the Persona I recently bought my dad his first camera; a point and click from Walgreen’s for ten bucks. We had taken a walk over Thanksgiving; the cotton fields near my Gram’s house were covered in frosty snow that cut the land into geometric patterns. We were watching the sunset when he said, “I wish I could remember this moment forever; there’s so much beauty and history and light in this single moment.” My dad doesn’t talk like that. But in that instant he articulated the value of capturing an experience in an image, holding on to it and sharing it. So, I sprung for the wind-up. Both Pappa Dash and Jason Travis understand the importance of grabbing the essence of a moment, feeling or person within a photo, but JTrav not only does so with the click of a button, he manipulates light and speed and shadow. He’s not a drug-store picture-taker, he’s an artist. “I do a lot of different things, but I really value myself as a photographer,” JTrav said one eve to Dash. “I’m constantly photographing things; every day I have fun with it somehow.” With his Persona series JTrav captures the Individual by getting folks to spill the contents of their bookbags, manbags and purses and taking a portrait alongside their everyday possessions. “It was just kinda an experiment that caught on,” he said. “I love taking portraits of people and comparing and contrasting what they value. There are so many variations of what people think they need.” It’s a receipt-y, journal-y, you-need-to-clean-up-your-shit kinda peak into someone’s everyday world. “I was surprised once to see that a friend of mine has a gun,” he said. “Oh, and that a girl had 20 tampons, she said she has them for karmic purposes. Give a tampon, get a tampon.”” The photos force recognition of the idiosyncrasies of the individual: one man’s Star Wars wallet is another guy’s money clip; one chick’s Dostoevsky is another dame’s Elie Wiesel; one granny’s hair pick is another dude’s bike helmet. JTrav and his Persona series make being a voyeur an anthropological study, one that makes us here at Dash love all of you sicko dweebies even more.  “I just wanna capture the essence of who a person is or at least capture a moment and inspire someone with it. If I can do that then I guess I’ve done my job.”  More Mr. Trav Photographs 2010-02-16T19:46:44+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/paper_twins/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/paper_twins/#When:01:00:53Z Paper Twins: Two Guerrillas are Better than One A guy got arrested once for scrawling a Milan Kundera quote on an overpass. “As soon as you love someone, you start contemplating their death,” was etched high above a 12-lane interstate. It’s the sort of cerebral line you mull over when you’re 19, heart-heavy and completely alive. He’d intended to give commuters something to think about other than Terry Gross’s interview skills or the hi-jinks of wackass DJs. Instead, he spent two nights in jail and many an hour picking up trash along I-20. To some, this type of altruistic notion may seem slightly naïve, but to many guerrilla artists the ideal is as familiar as breathing. The Paper Twins are two such artists – they produce work on the streets of Atlanta not only as a means of individual expression, but also to interact with, and beautify, their community with bold design and playful themes. The duo’s work has shown up across rusty parts of Atlanta like Cabbagetown, Poncey-Highlands and Little 5. In a single night, concrete walls are transformed into canvasses and covered with black sketches and bursts of color. Like many guerrilla artists, the Paper Twins – Bankrupt and Broke Ass – remain anonymous to keep themselves protected from Coppers. For the following interview the Twins sat down in a smelly ATL bar to drink whiskey and describe not only their individual artistic process and intention, but their compulsive love of vandalism. Dashboard/Beth Malone: So you’re the sneaky dames that have been decorating my street – it’s beautiful – why the anonymity? Broke Ass/Paper Twin: It’s not entirely anonymous as we do leave the Paper Twins calling card, but, you know, it’s illegal. Also anonymity makes for mystery and mystery is one of the best things about street art, in my opinion. Bankrupt/Paper Twin: All these street artists have a name but it’s not their real name, so we thought why not do the same? Also, what we do could get us in trouble, so just to be safe we’d rather not use our names. Dash: How dangerous is the work you’re doing? Any run-ins with ne’er-do-wells? Broke Ass: Being the look-out always feels sort of like being a hooker, but nothing terrible has happened. Yet. One night we did a collaboration with JUSE and I wrote some phone numbers on my leg in preparation for jail, but then it was all okay. Bankrupt: The streets are dangerous, but what we do is pretty quick. Our work is ready to put up before we leave our houses. The wheat-pasting process is very quick, sometimes it only takes seconds – it really depends on how big the piece is you’re putting up. Dash:I’m sure many things have influenced your work – can you tell me about some of them? Bankrupt:: I happen to be from South America so that’s why [we use] the neon colors and tribal looking patterns on clothing. The bright colors in our work are something you see in the clothing of people that live in the mountains. Also, the places we choose to put up our pieces influence everything. Walls are very important – we do a lot of touching and picture taking. I know it sounds creepy, but if the wall is too rough, it wouldn’t work. Dash: Are there other guerrillas that inspire your work? And why do you feel the streets, are the best vehicle in which to express yourselves? Bankrupt: Yes, too many! I think the day I found out about Blu and Miso, I realized that putting stuff on the streets didn’t have to have a political meaning and that it could be just fun, for the simple sake of having people see it and enjoy it. Broke Ass: The streets are so much fun to work with – from picking the right place and looking for walls, to going at night and the thrill of it all. The streets are the greatest canvas. Dash: What materials do you use most? Maybe you can’t live without Elmer’s glue or black paint or chicken wire. Broke Ass: Colored paper, flour and water! And these terrible sharpie magnums that give you marker-aches. Bankrupt: It’s pretty awesome to go out at night carrying big pieces of paper and Tupper Ware with wheat-paste in it. It always looks like we’re about to go make some cookies for our grandma or something. Dash:: As guerrilla artists, how would you feel to see your work in a gallery? Bankrupt: I think one of us, I will not say who, might be doing that soon but not under Paper Twins. Paper Twins, I think, will always stay on the streets. But to be honest with you, I’m pretty open to ideas, so who knows. I think the other Twin might disagree with this though. Shh, don’t tell her. Maverick 2010-02-16T01:00:53+00:00 http://dashboardco-op.org/site/matt_sigmon/ http://dashboardco-op.org/site/matt_sigmon/#When:21:18:11Z “Some artists get frustrated with Atlanta, lose interest and move on. Therefore, the main problem seems to be sustainability.” —Matt Sigmon Matt Sigmon recently graduated from Georgia State University with an MFA in sculpture/studio art. He has exhibited work in eight states as well as five countries throughout Europe and Central America. He has also successfully mastered the art of being a charming smart ass – in art, and in life.  Dashboard/Courtney Hammond: Your work spans across all digs. You have some pieces that are castings but waver on the line of performance – some that are assemblage but are also installation. When someone asks you what materials you work in – what do you say?  I never know how to answer this. Matt Sigmon: I usually say, “I use the material that makes sense in relation to my concept.” However, most of my material or technical knowledge is in patternmaking, mold making and foundry work.  I also use wood, plaster and, most recently, plastics, within my work. Dash: As far as the arts go in Atlanta, do you think our city is becoming more aware and supportive of contemporary art? MS: I think Atlanta will become more aware of contemporary art if we, as artists, make it more aware. I’ve witnessed a current development, which seems to indicate that Atlanta is warming up, more and more, to the idea of showing artwork in non-traditional, non-art gallery venues. Vacant lots, buildings, and personal homes are providing an alternative to the market-driven, commercial art galleries. In this way, art is allowed accessibility beyond the galleries, thereby, suggesting the possibility of contemporary artwork reaching a broader range of people within Atlanta. However, similar art movements for visibility and awareness happened in Atlanta thirty years ago and then disappeared for a while.  Levels of activity and visibility seem to come and go with each new group of artists.  Some artists get frustrated with Atlanta, lose interest and move on. Therefore, the main problem seems to be sustainability. The art of a city, community or town is only as vibrant and visible as its participants make it. Dash: What would you say to people that think you are making fun of contemporary art? Wait, are you making fun of contemporary art? MS: Sure, I make fun of contemporary art. Artists like to take themselves too seriously. Because what we do is silly and impractical, artists may feel forced to come up with their own “unique” artistic concept or reality to justify their artwork. Some artists have an agenda, politic,or activist mentality to justify making art. Other artists don’t want to recognize that they are artists. They might skim the surface of a topic or field, wear the imaginary hat of another profession such as biologist, psychologist, meta-physicist, etc, and falsely carry those themes through their artwork. These are just examples of artistic justification. Then, there is the question: “What do you want the viewer to get from your artwork?” I hear many artists cop out with the usual answer: “The viewer can take whatever they want from my artwork.”  If the viewer can take whatever he wants, then what’s the point? Furthermore, if the viewer doesn’t grasp any of your imposed ideas from your visual art, does that mean that you’ve failed as an artist? I like to ponder these questions and revel in the silliness of it all. I like to poke fun at contemporary art.  But if you really think about it, contemporary art makes fun of us all. Matt is also in cahoots with Antonio Darden, a professor at Scad University and you can visit them at the-art-officials.blogspot.com Sculpture 2010-02-14T21:18:11+00:00