Art: Then and Now

Art:  (noun) the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.

Every young child is exposed to “art”, typically by the fine folks of Crayola.  However, just because you can stay within the lines while coloring by numbers doesn’t make you an artist.  In my day, the Darwinistic method of the survival of the fittest for art began in elementary school.  Most K-6 teachers did not have to “teach” art, most schools had an art teacher that determined who had “it” and who didn’t.  “It” of course was the ability to create something of more than ordinary significance.  Not everyone has the ability to draw fluffy clouds and beautiful landscapes like Bob Ross. 

My grade school art teacher certainly had “it”.  In fact, she had a lot of “it”.  Based on what I now know about the 1980’s or at least what has been dramatized on Miami Vice or in the Jay McInerney novel Bright Lights, Big City, my art teacher was definitely skilled in “aesthetic principles” in many ways.  Ms. Cartwright (could have been Mrs. Cartwright, but let’s leave it at Ms. for purposes of this story) in my memory was at least 6 feet tall with long blond hair and bright green eyes.  She drove an orange Corvette Stingray and always wore a smock that barely covered her short skirts.  Art in my school was a once a week session where the fittest would get the attention and the rest of us would be given a box of Crayola to color by number.  

Teachers do not teach art, teachers discover the artists in students.  I was never discovered, but I always adored Ms. Cartwright.  I still imagine what those special students got that I didn’t.     

Today, with no children being left behind, no bully zones, happy times after school clubs, and so many other fabulous programs, all grade school kids are now being given equal support to be an artist.  Darwin is dead and all children are equal, there is no more discovery of budding artists.  Of course, there are some kids that are more talented than others, but everyone has to be treated the same. Sure, all parents should proudly display the heart and soul of their child’s art efforts, but some art work is better suited on the refrigerator door.  

Art class now is much more homogenous now than it was back in the days of Ms. Cartwright.  Even though I was never touched by my art teacher, I knew that there were kids that would survive in an art battle and the rest of us should focus on language arts or something less visually beautiful and appealing.  I will focus on providing compliments and encouragement to the creators of pictures of landscapes with tall trees and fluffy clouds that more resemble a disastrous nuclear meltdown. 

As I learned from the Happy Time Club, two positives are greater than one negative. 

This was written as a blog throwdown against http://mmaskill.blogspot.com/ 

I am sure I got my ass kicked.  My take on the title “Art: Then and Now” didn’t go the way I thought it would.

I miss it already

So, here it is two days after the finale of Improv Battle Royale with Cheese and I miss it already.  I miss the prepartion, the planning, the performing and the audience.  Sure, its been ardous at times and it has been time consuming, but this show gave me so much joy.  Since the first show in March until now, I have developed and grown as an improv artist.  This is like, my opionion man, but I think its true.  Center stage was my home.

Its time for a break, but I have a plan for next season.  I will be putting together my improv umbrella.  More to come.

Thank you to all the supporters.  Can’t wait to share the future.

Road Trip Music

Here is the music that kept me company during a road trip south.  From Indiana to Atlanta, I had 11 hours of windshield time.  I was able to work out a few things that have been on my mind while listening to music.

Here is the order of tunes:

Lemonheads:  Come on feel the lemonheads. Favorite road trip music

David Bazan: Curse your branches.  My first DB record.  Getting ready for the house show on Dec 14 (thank you Dugger)

Ryan Adams and the Cardinals:  Cardinalogy.  Fix it and Magik are great tunes that inspire me.

REM: Accelerate.  Typically Monster is the necessary REM album, but I wanted to listen to Accelerate again.  This is an under appreciated album.

Lenny Kravitz: Lenny  Not my favorite Lenny, but it is good road music.

Lemonheads: Varshons.  I really dig this cover album.

Wicked:  Original Cast Recording.  Nothing screams Kentucky like a good musical soundtrack.

Rent: Original Cast Recording:  See above.

Basement Jaxx: Rooty.  Where’s your head at?

LaRoux:  LaRoux:  I dig Elanor Jackson.  She is a bit Annie Lennox and a bit Confessions of a Dance Floor era Madoona

Madonna:  Confessions of a Dance Floor.  Inspired by LaRoux

Mika:  The boy who knew too much.  Such a guilty pleasure for me.  Mika is so much fun…the album is a musical journey.

The rest of the trip was on shuffle.

 

Slots and Peeps

I’ve never lived in a place where the front door had a mail slot.  The lazy part of my thinks this would be really cool; having mail delivery right to the floor by the front door.   Never again, having to walk to the mailbox.

Another part of me, never wants someone to trek through rain, sleet and snow to have access to a 3″ x 9″ sliver of my existence.  A Monday through Saturday intrusion, albeit brief intrusion into my place would be too much for me to handle.  Although, the visits would occur on a regular basis on established days, maybe a stable relationship would be comforting.

Would this magical mail door also have a peep hole?  I haven’t had a peep hole door in maybe 15 years.  Unless you count hotel rooms, these days I am more familiar with the other side of the peep hole.   Peep show…another story.

Not sure I really want a mail slot or a peep hole, unless attached with a fab condo in NY, Chicago, SF, Austin, London, just not this town.

My status is better than yours

There’s nothing scared and nothing private, its all public these days.  Every moment of excitement, sadness, joy, or ambivalence is shared via a social network status.  No need for hand written notes, no need for telephone calls, no need for interpersonal face to face communication.  Its all digital.  Friend me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter.  Computer to computer has replaced eye to eye.

“Spending quality time with the kids”-Really?  Quality Time is defined as updating your facebook status? Parent of the year.

“Had to put Smokey to sleep.  Goodbye dear friend.”  Sure there are animal lovers out there to offer sympathy and support.  Why not tell use more about euthanasia.

“Great party im sooooo drunkk.  goin home gots to wirk tomorrow”  Thanks for sharing the events leading up to your   DUI.

“Going to the grocery store”  Im too bored to care.

“Watching Citizen Cane.  Great movie.”  Are you watching the movie or updating your status?  If you really want to appreciate the movie, turn off the computer and watch.  If you are doing both…Rosebud is the sled.

“Being mugged and beaten by strangers.”  I’m sure your Twitter followers cannot help you from where they are.  Call 911, spray mace, run, now tell everyone “What Are You Doing?”

follow me on twitter:  @thefreeto

Friend me on Facebook Steve Freeto

Send me your street address and I will send you a hand written note.

Ten Thirty One

Halloween time! It’s my favorite holiday. What other holiday is it OK for women to dress up like whores and get away with it? Well besides Easter. Those flower dresses and bonnets are pretty slutty. Wearing crotch-less panties with your Sunday’s best is the Christian thing to do.

Halloween is the holiday for hypocrites though. Even the most homophobic man will dress up like a woman on Halloween. These guys will shave their legs, duct tape their balls to their assholes and put on a dress all in the name of Halloween. These same homophobes are afraid to sit down to pee because it’s a little too gay, but on Halloween it’s a different story.

Hell, anything can happen at a Halloween party. Bobbing for apples is a lot like giving head, except without the banana being crammed down your throat.

When I was growing up, the easiest costume was a hobo or a bum. This year it is going to be difficult to tell the difference between Halloween bums and real bums. You know the people on the side of the road with the signs that say “I need money for food for my kids”. That would suck to be in that position, but it would be an easy costume. Hell, they got it made on Halloween. Just get a bucket and go door to door. We won’t even know they are begging just flip over the card board sign and write “Trick or Treat”.

I love Halloween candy in every shape and size. Fun size, snack size, full size, its all good. I remember growing up going trick or treating and every year there would be “rumors” of some house giving away full size candy bars. These urban legends were tricks to thin the cluster of kids at each door. Once told there was a house with full size bars, the greedy kids of the pack would head straight to that house. People giving out candy tend to give smaller portions when there is a large group. But when there are only 2 or 3 knocking, you just might get a hand full of fun size instead of just one. When there is a large group, you are most likely to only get one fun size. Fun Size? What the hell is this meant to be? This is the “dick tease” of candy. Its just enough to get you wet, but not enough to satisfy you.

I’ll take any candy except Bit o’ Honey. This is not candy. This stuff was created by dentists looking to make money refilling your cavities. I swear every time I eat Bit o’ Honey, I lose a filling. People my age, know what I’m talking about. Our fillings are not these fancy tooth colored composite fillings; our fillings are bits of tin foil dipped in mercury. The kind of filling that when you touch it with a metal fork, you get an electric shock throughout your whole mouth. Trying to eat dinner turns into a game of Operation. If you don’t have a steady hand its….buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzaaaappp.

stand up sit down

writing new material for stand up and im slightly nervous.  not nervous about being on stage alone with a mic stand, hell i enjoy the attention.  im nervous that i might forget who to picture naked.  do i picture myself naked or the audience?  if it is me then i will probably get excited, it will be like prom all over again.  if it is the audience that is supposed to be naked i will spend my time on stage looking for birthmarks in strange places.  wish me luck.

Rotten Kids

I love vandalism, especially when well done. Marquee owners are not using the sign to promote their own product or services, why not leave a few extra letters on the sign to allow for some fun. Hell, I would even buy a vowel or two to be able to spell out any message that I want. This sign at a local car wash drew plenty of attention. The line would reach around to the front.

Where does the line begin?

New Math

Meth is everywhere.  Boys, girls, men, women, children, teenagers, and everyone in between seem to be exploring meth making, meth dealing, meth doing, and all things meth.

Stop the madness.  If you don’t end up dead, you will at least end up in jail.

Say “No” to meth, Say “Yes” to math.

Math won’t make your teeth fall out.  If they do, you got yourself parts for your abacus.

Math won’t make you steal from your family, unless subtraction is now considered stealing.

Meth may help with your chemistry homework, but math may be of greater benefit.  I don’t think ammonia, bleach, Sudafed or Mentos (active ingredients of meth) can be found on the periodic table.  Without math, you could never figure out the atomic abundance of any isotopes.  Try it.

As Barbie once said “Math is hard”, but at least math doesn’t give you welts on the skin or paranoid delusions.  If math causes these side effects you better call Sylvan learning center.

Math is so much better than meth.  Don’t be fooled by the glamorous mug shoots of boys, girls, men, women, children, teenagers caught meth making, meth dealing, meth doing, or all things meth.

Meth will help with fractions, as more than half your life will be screwed by this concoction.  The other half of your life will be en route to F’ville soon.

If faced with long division without a calculator in a life or death situation, I guess I would probably choose meth over math.  Do what’s right for you.

For me and my love of arithmetic, I would choose math over meth 6/5’s of the time (except long division without a calculator).

3.14

Chicken pot pie.  I’ll have the pie.  Pie makes me happy.  Although I guess chicken could too.  Hell, so could pot.  I am easy to please, but when pie crosses my lips its happiness.

If pie was an illegal substance, I am sure I would be breaking the law more often.   I would need a dealer to get a daily “nickel bag” of pie.   Pie cravings probably are not like alcohol DT’s, but I do jones for some Boston Cream Pie.  I would probably sell my VCR and TV to get the hook up for some strawberry rhubarb.  I would even pimp myself for pumpkin or sweet potato pie.

Creme Brulee may not be considered pie, but I would risk it all for the right serving.  Actually, I sometimes feel the need to punk slap someone for not making it right.  When I pay for Creme Brulee, I want a nice carmelized layer on top.  My spoon should ricochet off the surface and take effort to bust through.  A good creme brulee makes me happy.

Too much pie will make me chubby.