I do hate writing heartbreak mails….
Man things with a vintage, handmade, DIY, rustic and freaky edge. Resist acceleration. Live free or die trying.
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These last weeks have been somewhat of a rollercoaster. I visited my father in Texas to see if he is dying (it seems he is not), I completely crashed every reserve of my finances, I obtained a visa to perform in Moscow, I took a job as noise-maker in a rather large theater production, and then—all of the sudden and when all hope had abandoned me—I won some kind of well-respected German art prize.
So please forgive me if I must withdraw from the random and sundry visual pleasures of Tumblr while I sort this whole mess out. Please contact me privately if you require further details.
My best wishes to you all. D.
Need to take a break from here for a while. Hit my ask box for email contact if necessary. Best wishes. Derek
Thanks to everyone who expressed support for my father’s battle with cancer over the last couple months. He’s home now and seems to be on the road to recovery. I’ll be visiting Marfa TX for about a week and a half starting 6 March. Drop a line if you are in the neighborhood!
From my useless OKC profile:
I had a profile on a dating site in the late 90’s which asked “Which celebrity do people say you most resemble?” I answered Christian Slater crossed with Crispin Glover, although these days I seem to get Leonardo Dicaprio now that neither of us are quite so smooth and skinny anymore….
The support of the Marfa TX community for my father’s battle with cancer is nothing short of completely amazing.
Last Saturday there was not one, but two benefit concerts in this tiny little place, which raised about $1800 for his medical costs. (Like many Americans, and certainly like many American artists, he has zero health insurance…) That and they partied their muthafuckin’ asses off!
Big love to the Marfa crew for this and so much more! If you want to read more about the situation, click here.
Just realized that my German residence permit expired a few days ago rather than next month like I thought… a day of hasty email writing with bureaucrats on holidays ahead. "Why do I keep fuckin’ up?"
Some mid-year’s observations and resolutions:
1) Exercise the brain a bit more, the liver a bit less.
2) Some situps now and again couldn’t hurt either.
3) Learn how to say “no” in my professional-artist life. Especially to those supposedly-fun projects with little or no budget. Double-especially to those that end up costing more than they make.
4) When you are your own boss, you can exploit yourself worse than any one else. The late nights aren’t worth it. The “exposure” isn’t worth it.
5) Get out more often. But not to work.
6) Stay in more often. But not to work.
7) Remember that the internet is a knife which cuts both ways.
Thank you all for your kindly attention. D.
Malmö and Kjøbenhavn this weekend… where’s the party?
I’ve wrecked quite a few bank accounts over the years, but somehow my body just keeps on keepin’ on. Better than the other way around… or else I’d end up being Keith Richards.
Once upon a time, I planned to spend half the year in Berlin and the other half in Brazil… until I realized I would need some magic third place to spend a third half of the year in making money to support the other two…
(from a conversation with rollmeoverslowly…)
Dear Tumblr… I don’t like crowds, and would rather have my teeth pulled than go “clubbing”. Also, I’m usually too busy making art to be talking about art over lines of white powder somewhere at 4AM. Could this be why I’m still single and not famous?
I have been doing a lot of soul-searching lately about my relationship with this fine-arts world. So much of it seems like pretentious, hyper-conceptual rubbish made by and for an over-educated elite whose values I am increasingly coming not to share. But my main problem is with the economics of the whole thing. As an “artist” (rather than a “craftsman”, “designer”, “technician” or some other lower life form in the fine-arts food chain), you are expected to live on symbolic compensation for your labor, such as airplane tickets, drinks, dinners and that ever elusive non-thing, “exposure”. I have decided that, until my rent, grocery bills, health insurance, artist materials and therapy for my fucked up mind (unaffordable luxury so far) are also symbolic in cost, I will no longer accept symbolic payment for my art. Give me an honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work.
When I was but a young man, my mother said to me;
"Boy, you better marry rich, ‘cause you sure can’t lift a shovel!"
Still workin’ on that one.