(6 cities in 6 states in 14 days. Not counting 150 volunteers who put up 900 posters on the streets of LA on June 3rd 2016.)
Aside from Donald J. Trump, but even among his deceived and deluded followers, there are good people everywhere. My friend, Lowell, investigative journalist extraordinaire, always says that after he tells me another whopper about his meetings with confidential sources (names withheld) in the FBI, the NSA, Homeland Security, the Republican Party and even Florida. (Although, if you ask me, Florida is not in the United States. For that matter, San Francisco is somewhere in western Europe, isn’t it?) Whatever. After this little late night tour of mine, I believe him.
The good news is all the people who contributed in any way to this nutty trek. I truly want to thank you all! Happily there are so many of you and I’m so grateful. I’ll try to give you a taste of the late night “action,” as I remember it, however woozily.
Going city by city…
PORTLAND:
I flew up from the central coast of California and was picked-up by my cousin, Steve and his wife, Camille. Steve is 80 years old, a retired “people’s architect.” He and his troops built housing and repaired hospitals for the Sandinistas in Nicaragua and the Zapatistas in Chiapas. Camille is a terrific, albeit private, spiritual painter. Both are, in their own very different ways, more radical than I am. Surprisingly, Steve had never been out on the streets postering with me. (I’ve been doing this since 1986.) Their son, Marios, an artist and musician, who makes his own idiosyncratic instruments, also lives in Portland. He has been out with me several times over the years and was our getaway driver for this Portland “Art Attack.”
Please let me tell you a couple “good people” stories, because, in a magical way (especially considering the horrific reason for this project), they kept happening everywhere I went—and we need them right now:
The first thing Steve did was take me to “Reo’s Ribs,” (4211 NE Sandy Blvd), a little joint he’d always wanted to try, but, I guess, needed me as an excuse to actually visit. A giant goofy homemade barbecue grill, like an old repurposed steam engine, was smoking away out front.
Inside was cozy Louisiana charming, tricked out for Halloween. The food: Delicious. As we were eating, a large handsome black man hovered over everything, talking to everyone, except us.
Finally he looked down and asked me how I liked my ribs. I told him. He winked, stuck out a huge hand and said, “ I’m Uncle Reo, this is my place. I’m from Magnolia, Mississippi, one of 27 children. I just got back from Hollywood. I was on “Snoop Dogg’s and Martha Stewart’s Potluck Dinner Party show.” Say what? (Turns out Snoop is Reo’s nephew.)
Our new best friend whipped out his cell phone and scrolled through dozens of pix: Reo hugged by Martha and Snoop, him with Ice Cube and Seth Rogen, and so forth. He talked about his life for 40 minutes. Asked about us. I show-ed him some of the great anti-Trump postering hits our guerrillas had gotten up in LA. Laughing, he shook my hand so hard he almost broke it.
I then went on my traditional wallpaper adhesive hunt, gallon buckets preferred. At a local Sherwin Williams paint store (“We Cover the Earth!”) I scored enough for both our Portland and Seattle art attacks Then Steve and Camille walked me through their ultra hip “Laurelhurst” neighbor-hood. How “Portlandia” was it?
The show was shooting an episode around the corner from their house! Also, there were seven restaurants per block. But we were intrigued by, “Dashen International Groceries” (3039 NE Gilsan St.). A Hispanic grocery that was open but quite dark, except for one florescent bulb above the counter. Empty, except for one natty middle-aged man behind it, who was . . . Ethiopian.
Flipping a switch, he chuckled, “Oh, I guess you might want some light.” We were suddenly surrounded by the most varied array of Hispanic food products I’ve ever seen. Steve noticed a long row of old books behind the counter, written in Amharic, Arabic, Hebrew, English and Italian. The man proceeded to tell us the whole history of Ethiopia (long), stressing his hope that all religions could get along with each other, “No matter what that Mr. Donald J. Trump thinks . . . Oh my! You must be so ashamed!” We are.
As for the postering itself, we met our local crews at the venerable, very yellow, “Original Hotcakes House.”
My pals Tinkerbell and Clank, recent émigrés from LA, were there with their new friends, a couple of doctors and their precociously punning 13 year old son. My young friend, Leona, now in LA, sent us some lovely post “Portlandia” 19yr olds (blue hair), as well. We were also joined by the great street artist and illustrator, EMEK. We’d never actually met—it was an honor.
Of course it was raining. Of course no one (but me) noticed. That night we managed to get up about 80 posters around town.
A little after 2am, Steve and I were totally soaked and out of posters. I slapped him on the back and said, “Good job, comrade—let’s go get dry.” He was shocked, “Whatta ya mean? This is great—I’m just getting started!”
Hearing that, Marios hissed, “Dad, you’re 80 years old. You just had quadruple bypass surgery—get in the car!”
Annoyed, Steve slammed the car door shut, just as a squad car of Portland’s finest cruised by at 5 miles per hour. The officers stared at us and nodded their approval, perhaps thinking we’d just picked a crazy man up out of the rain. Close, but no (exploding) cigar.
Thanks Everyone!
No. No my friends. To mangle Yogi Berra’s great line,
“It ain’t over when it’s over.” We’ve only just begun!
Oh, and if you’re curious about Portland after the election, take a look:
Next up: SEATTLE.
Since 1986 I’ve been making satirical guerrilla street posters of politicians who, by my reckoning, have too much power over us and have been abusing it in the name of representative democracy. Over the years I’ve developed an irregular street army of wonderful volunteers, around the U.S. When I can, I travel with my posters, and with help from local activists, put them up on the streets. It’s my way of hopefully tickling people into thinking along with us about the state of our democracy.
My new poster campaign, “BULLY CULPRIT/CAN’T EVEN,” is about Donald J. Trump, whom I consider to be a major threat to our country’s social and political values. I feel so strongly about Trump’s demagoguery–especially his appeals to hate, fear and prejudice–that I’ve made a double-sided street poster about him! With your help I’m hoping to get 1000’s of them printed, shipped, and pasted up on the streets of America before the November election.
Printing, shipping, supplies, and travel are costly. But with your help I promise we’ll be out there practically every night, spattering ourselves with glue and doing our best to deliver the message. Additionally, since I can’t make it to every city we’d like to cover, I’m offering to send posters anywhere in the U.S., to those volunteers who are truly committed to getting them up in their area. From the East Coast to the West Coast, to the prairies, to Hawaii and Alaska—yes, even Alaska! (Please sign up for emails at my website’s Home Page, and let me know if you’re able to volunteer in your city or town, soon!) We’ll update everyone with images of posterings from places we’ve visited, as well as photos we’ve received from volunteers who’ve distributed them in their towns.
We can’t let Trump happen here! And with your help, we won’t. Thanks so much for your consideration and enthusiasm for our mission!
~ Robbie Conal
Donald Trump is a paradigm example of a shrewd, brutish, predatory extreme of our American capitalist culture. Not to give him too much credit, but in following our presidential primary season, Deb and I end up batting around his rise at least once a day. Everywhere I go, anybody who knows me asks, “Are you doing Trump?” (The short answer is, “Yes.”) Then, I usually get an earful: recitations of what I call, “political personal disaster porn.” Understandable, right? Far right!
Not far enough, though. (I suspect we all know that.) I have a simple line about all this that I’m going to drop on you, just because: I really think each of us has got to do something about it, him, our collective problem. Not necessarily a big “change the world” thing, either. In my experience, that kind of gesture is usually of the quixotic variety. I’m talking real politik here. Not necessarily specifically about Trump, either. Phone bank, canvas, get out the vote, help old people register. Just whatever you can do. Even if you think it’s a little thing. It isn’t.
I make nasty little street posters, mostly about nasty people. That’s what I can do. I promise you, I’m doing it—right now! And we’ll be doing it all over the place very soon. (You’re invited, of course.) My point: whatever you’re good at, please apply that talent, skill, whatever—even if you think it’s a stretch—to our Drumpf problem. We can do this. We pretty much must. Don’t you think?
A LISTENING TIP:
On another, more felicitous note, the band, “Lake Street Dive” has a new CD. The title tune, “Side Pony,” is goofy and brilliant! The lead guitarist wrote it after his wedding when his bride showed up with a retro hairdo—that “side pony”––which totally knocked him out. He wrote this tune about it. To my ears it’s right up there with their recent, “Bad Self Portraits,” for wonderful sideways subjects. And I’m pretty sure you’ll agree, it’s a welcome relief from all that other noise in our collective heads!
Bunnyhugs,
Robbie
“Vulnerable is the New Macho”
I’ve been futzing around with this phrase and this owl painting for a while, and recently came up with the “Vulnerable is the New Macho” limited edition print. Admittedly it’s a kind of “wish” piece, initially meant to address environmental issues. In many cultures owls represent wisdom. This owl knows our planet is a beautiful place—as well as the only place. This owl is aware of how vulnerable the Earth and all creatures great and small are to human shortsightedness and greed. What if we were to think of vulnerability as a strength, not a weakness? If we would only recognize our vulnerability to each other, we might just be able to own up and do something radical about taking care of all of us—and the planet.
Our country’s ethos has been so MACHO for so long—with many believing the only solution to the recent plethora of mass murders is to own more guns for “self-protection.” Then there’s our endemic Cowboy Revenge Syndrome i.e. The Iraq War II. Greed? How about those unconscionably selfish investment bankers and their predatory loans, opaque derivative trading and credit default swaps that caused a global financial meltdown, to name just a few examples of Macho gone bad? Maybe, just maybe, we could get all MACHO about being VULNERABLE and caring for one another? I mean everybody, not just humans, and not just “Americans.”
I’m truly horrified by what happened in Paris last week, but I’m also truly afraid of what’s going to happen in France, as well as other nations, in response. Perhaps “nations” have become a vestigial form of human identification—even a dangerous one. Not unlike intolerant religions. Maybe we can use the shocking events in Paris as a wake up call from a nightmare, to move us past the concepts of boundaries, nations, tribes, or sects, and see the whole human race as one people, and our planet as our one and only home.
OK. Enough! Owls are wise—and this one has what I hope is a pretty interesting idea, yes?
Peace and bunnyhugs,
Robbie
The bad news about Detroit:
The city filed for municipal bankruptcy on July 18th, 2013. The U.S. bailout of General Motors and the Chrysler Corporation, both based in Detroit, ultimately cost U.S. taxpayers $9.26 BILLION. Detroit’s main railroad entry point, Michigan Central Station has become the poster child for “ruin porn” in the U.S. Downtown Detroit does a great impersonation of World War II Dresden. Oh, and then there’s Mayor Mike Duggan’s pronouncement, “I hate graffiti!” I’m not saying that’s stupid, but hate’s track record in human relations, much less city planning, hasn’t been exactly positive. To be fair (ha-hah!) to Mike: post- bankruptcy, he has been cornered by Detroit’s stalwart culture warriors into practicing a bit of ethical realpolitik.
(For the moment let’s just pretend that isn’t an oxymoron.) Which has somewhat mellowed his inflammatory rhetoric.
The good news about Detroit:
The bad news makes it an ideal place for young artists to flock to and thrive. They are doing both. For example: Two years ago a New York artist bought a 25,000 sq. ft warehouse and a 2,000 sq. ft. space in Detroit for a combined cost of under $8,000! A resourceful young (or old, well, especially young, considering the “sweat equity” involved) artist can make a lot of art in that much space for that little cabbage!
With the city going down and the young artists up and coming, one might think the Detroit Police Department could figure out how to keep itself busy protecting and serving whatever citizenry it has left without bashing its burgeoning, poppin’ fresh population of artists.
But, uh, not exactly. Detroit’s PD issued an arrest warrant for Shepard Fairey, charging him with fourteen illegal street posterings—graffiti related vandalism. On hearsay evidence, no less. It’s not like Detroit’s finest even caught him in the act—THEY DID NOT. They just KNOW he did it. Why? Cause it’s handsome, highly decorative art on city and private property? (Yes, made without the owners’ consent.)
Going after one of the most popular street artists in the world in one of the dingiest urban environments in America might even be in line with Detroit’s Mayor, Mike Duggan’s top priorities: discouraging spontaneous creativity and keeping the urban rubble “clean,” however depressingly ugly, a la Rudy Giuliani in New York. That’s just sad.
If Mayor Mike had any pop culture policy smarts at all, he’d take this unique opportunity to invite Mr. Fairey and many others to produce murals sponsored by the city, celebrating its unique ripeness for public creativity. The good people who stayed and believe in Detroit might even enjoy the positivity and be proud of all that.
Just a thought:
Graffiti based street art has come a long way from “tagging.” It’s matured into a wild variety of stencils, posters, pasted cut-outs, collages and “pieces”—larger, more considered combinations of images and text addressing all manner of social issues. It’s even effloresced into multiple story sized, ecstatic “building decoration.” More than occasionally—inevitably—some of all this has crossed over into fine art gallery exhibitions. Though, as Shepard has said, “An artist can make both: street art and gallery art—but they are NOT the same!” And should not be misconstrued as such.
By way of pop cultural comparison, this also happens to be the growth arc of rap music as an art form. Starting from a rhymed pattern of vocal beats—musical ground zero—it has added instrumentation (there was nowhere else to go—ha!), melody, sampling and orchestration, electronic and/or otherwise. Giving birth to hip-hop (and all its progeny). Spectacular!
ENJOY.
—Robbie Conal, July 17, 2015
I thought frickin’ fracking was bad enough, but did you know that in addition to that, a wastewater disposal well pumps 1000’s of tons of pressurized liquid back into a deep hole in the Earth’s crust, loosening the substrata miles below the surface? Eventually it causes earthquakes. Lots of them. It’s exactly like giving Planet Earth a huge enema. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling the Earth’s pain (in the ass)!
According to the NY Times, in Oklahoma right now there are more than 3,000 active oil, gas, and wastewater disposal wells. Earthquake activity there in 2013 was 70 times greater than the rate of earthquakes before 2008. The state recently acknowledged deep links between the two and set up a website detailing the scientific evidence behind it’s conclusion. I bet Oklahomans are ecstatic about that! Not incidentally, the always festive “Tornado Season” has just officially opened in The Great Plains States (aka “Tornado Alley”). Lately it’s also increased in length and fury. Something to do with global warming, perhaps?
It bears repeating that Republican Senate Majority leader Mitch McConnell (from the massive toxic carbon emissions coal mining state of Kentucky) sent a letter to every Governor of every fossil fuel producing state, urging them not to comply with the EPA’s guidelines for restricting toxic emissions from their state’s fossil fuel production facilities. That’s essentially telling them to break US Federal law! Never mind that coal mining is one of the most dangerous, filthy, underpaid jobs in the world. Never mind that the ol’ Fo$$il Fool could have urged every one of those states’ Governors to add re-education and vocational training to their annual budgets, so their loyal, hard working (cough-cough) constituents might qualify for better paying, personally safer, jobs! Never mind that… Enemas, anyone?
~ Robbie Conal, May 14, 2015
Hi Everybody,
First, I’d like to thank everyone who came out postering with us in Los Angeles on April Fool’s Day. With your generous help, we managed to get up over 300 FO$$IL FOOL (Mitch McConnell) posters that night! (Check out photos of some awesome postering handiwork on Instagram, #fossilfool, #robbieconal). Now we aim to do the same with our intrepid co-conspirators in NYC!
Since the 2012 election, after Mitt Romney’s empty thought bubble burst, I’ve tried my best to be “Mr. Positivity.” Our last street postering was Nelson Mandela—you can’t get more positive than Mandela, right? But I’ve been tracking Mitch McConnell, the senior senator from Kentucky (and Jon Stewart’s pet “turtle,”) for a while now. Mitch became Majority Leader of the Senate on January 3rd, but I’ve been kind of chillin’—you know, giving the “Turtle” some time to make his move.
Two whole days later Mitch confided that finally, “There’s a glimmer of hope in the economic outlook…” Why? Mitch KNOWS why: “…the uptick tends to coincide with the expectation of a new Republican Congress!” Yuuuup. That’s genius at work! Albeit, delusional spin genius. A good start, but not, “My Old Kentucky Home” bourbon soaked, barbecue and hot sauced, let’s-fire-up-those-toxic-charcoal-briquettes-and-breathe-deep—good!
Ahh, but then Obama signed an executive order requiring the states to develop new carbon — “fossil fuel” — emissions standards. Otherwise, the Environmental Protection Agency would have to impose Federal emissions regulations on each State individually. That literally caused Mitch to blow his smoke stack. He fired off a letter to every Governor of every state, encouraging each not to comply with the President’s executive order, essentially urging them to break Federal law! That’s an unprecedented act by a Senate Majority leader.
Now, that’s what I’m talking about! Mitch finally went all “FO$$IL FOOL” on us… We got this! Please join us on Friday, April 17th from 10PM-11PM, at Joseph Gross Gallery in Chelsea (see address below). We’ll be there with glue, brushes, and plenty of brand new posters for all. Oh, please send me an email and tell me how many will be in your crew! (info@robbieconal.com).
THANK YOU!
Robbie
Note: Feel free to share this info with friends, using only email forwards and texts. Please do not post this on social media until after we get the job done! 😉
Follow Us Here: #robbieconal #fossilfool
Joseph Gross Gallery
548 West 28th Street, #232
New York, NY 10001
(646) 535-6528
http://josephgrossgallery.com/
Friday, April 17, 2015, 10PM – 11PM; Rain does NOT cancel!
More details to follow soon on postering in San Francisco/Oakland, May 2015!
Normally, late nights for Robbie Conal mean mobilizing a crew of guerrilla volunteers to poster the streets with his legendary political posters. But this time, in the nights before Halloween, Robbie Conal will take over Terminal 6 (United Airlines Departures lobby) at LAX to install his newest work–”STREET WISE”–a collaboration with his partner, producer Deborah Ross. The new pieces combine large-scale paintings of glittery owls (seemingly Robbie’s alter-egos) and the couple’s recent fascination with drone photography, creating stunning aerial images of some of Robbie’s favorite parts of LA as the backdrop for his paintings. The artworks give LAX travelers owls’-eye views of the City of Angels not many would otherwise get to see.
The exhibit opens on November 1st and runs until April 30, 2015.
Earlier this week, Robbie and Deborah spoke to Frances Anderton on KCRW’s DNA to talk about the new project. Listen to the broadcast below. The STREET WISE segment begins at 19:45.
Says curator Elizabeta Betinski:
“Fifteen years ago Robbie Conal, LA’s infamous guerrilla artist, promised his wife, designer extraordinaire, Deborah Ross, that he would paint her an owl. He finally got around to it but he could not paint just one—partly because owls are too cool to sit for just one portrait, partly because once Robbie saw over 200 photos that Deborah took of ecstatic sunsets lighting up LA, he began to see owls in every one of them. Soon enough, the magnificent birds were perching above Deborah’s shots of Culver City, stretching their wings over Silver Lake and Highland Park and hoo-hooing through Venice and Playa del Rey: every place where Deborah stopped to take in the beauty of LA’s sunsets, there was an owl to guard the moment. Robbie and Deborah then took this spontaneous collaboration a step further and invited their friend Todd Caranto to join in, take his GoPro drone for a spin above Los Angeles, and film our urban sprawl from an owl’s point of view—which, as it turns out, is nothing short of spectacular. The hope is that seeing our home and all its glory from such heights might just inspire us to take better care of it—and if that’s not enough (unlike owls, humans seem to need a little extra push to get wiser), the owls are there to remind us that we have a beautiful thing going on, here on Planet L.A. and that if we want to keep it, for ourselves and all the creatures we share it with, we’ve got to wise up.”
Part of the groundbreaking LAX arts program known as INFLUX, created in partnership by the L.A. Department of Cultural Affairs and Los Angeles World Airports, these works are designed to infuse the airport’s bustling terminals with cutting-edge and inspiring pop art.
More details coming! #streetwiselax
I know this will be hard to believe, but back in the day I was on an episode of Bill Mahr’s TV show with Joan Rivers (and Joan Collins… brrrrrr!). In fact, I sat right next to Ms. Rivers – and I mean barely inches away from her.
Needless to say, we’d never met and she had no idea who I was. On the other hand, I had an idea who she was, but I was wrong. Though, of course she was tiny, wearing a perfectly tailored wool outfit, perfect helmet hair and a ton of perfect make up. She smelled good too.
But these things are “givens” about Joan Rivers. The first things I actually noticed about her were that she was concentrating on something totally invisible to me and she was vibrating like a tuning fork. The latter so much so, that about 3 minutes into the show I had picked up a contact vibe. I looked down to check for seat belts—hey, it was Bill Mahr’s show, who knows?—and saw that Ms. Rivers was holding a yellow lined legal pad under the table in a death grip. It was completely covered with large cursive scrawls and vibrating in rhythm with her knees.
I had no idea what that was about, but was afraid to ask. Why? 2 reasons: I was a bit intimidated—duh! And I was afraid, if I broke her concentration—on whatever it was that was out there in “Joan Rivers’ World”—she just might spontaneously combust. During the first commercial break Bill Mahr leaned over and teasingly informed her that I had painted her portrait and put it up on the streets of major cities around the country in posters titled, “Women With Teeth.” And what did she think of that? Ms. Rivers stared straight into space and said, “Any publicity is good publicity!”
She was very funny on the show, by the way. I said just about nothing. But during the next commercial break—emboldened by her brand new knowledge of my existence— I politely asked her about the nature of that yellow legal pad and its large scribbles. Looking straight at me for the first time, she smiled like a community elder schooling a wayward child and said, “It’s jokes, Dummy!”
I must have inadvertently raised an eyebrow or something, because, after a beat, she almost smiled again, patted the top of my head and said, “Oh, grow up!” Right then and there, I fell in love.
Rest in peace, Joan.
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Robbie Conal/Art Attack | 12140 Havelock Ave | Culver City | CA | 90230
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