Contemporary Art

The Music Is Free, But You Have to Pay for the Plastic, Paper, Ink, Glue and Stamps by Jeff Hunt

"The Los Angeles Free Music Society didn’t just fly beneath the cultural radar in the 1970s: It roared beneath it, as low to the ground as it could possibly get, screaming and shrieking like a nitro-swilling, flame-belching, drag-racing funny car. And maybe that bit of era-specific, Southern California imagery is apt. These guys weren’t like other collectives in 1973, spouting polemics or Jesus Freakin’ and living off the land. They were running amok through the concrete fields of Los Angeles, just plain Freakin’...."

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A Pigment of the Imagination by Jeff Hunt

"...These ideas gripped Dubuffet, and dragged him toward a sphere of obsessive creativity that was harrowing in its rigorous isolation and self-contained fecundity. He delved deep into the creative compulsions of those deemed “outside” of society, individuals whose imprisonment and/or madness precluded any serious consideration of their self expression, people for whom society—high, low, or otherwise—was no more accessible than the surface of the moon. Within the cells of prisoners, the minds of psychotics, and through the eyes of the mentally ill, Jean Dubuffet found the purity and persistence of vision for which he yearned..."

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Welcome Back My Friends to the Boat Show That Never Ends by Jeff Hunt

"It entered our dimension through some appalling portal in 1968, an unspeakable Cuthulian horror that's never, ever going to leave. It lives deep in the ocean, and waits for the humans to summon it via ritual invocation at the RV and Boat Show."

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Tony Conrad Movie at Volksbühne, Berlin by Table of the Elements

When he fled Harvard in 1961, contrarian Tony Conrad escaped into the restricted ruins of post-war East Berlin. Now he returns, via Tyler Hubby’s celebratory opus, Tony Conrad: Completely in the Present. The host is Volksbühne, Germany’s most iconic theater. Is Tony rolling in his grave? We like to think he’s rolling in the aisles.

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Daguerreotypes of the Living Dead by Jeff Hunt

The wildly versatile multi-media artist Bradly Brown defies expectations, and he does so in perverse, science-fictitious splendor. I’m biased, as he’s not only my creative collaborator but my friend, but this gaunt Texan has the real goods at the farthest flung trading posts: expertly crafted wampum that cloaks value in vivid, secretive layers. His intuitive design skills alone merit high praise; in an era in which graphic artists often succumb to Novocaine levels of digital numbness, Bradly’s work pounces out of two-dimensional confines. If you have a deft sensibility, you can see it breathe and pulsate. Spirits of silver nitrate float; dead voices carry; bestial dystopia beckons.

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