I make things out of other things. I’m a rearranger. A deck shuffler who doesn‘t play cards. I “play” other things. I tie sounds together with .wav file adhesive. Lassoing loops. Filter, crossover, filmstrip blips. I try to keep the gears greased and the animals at peace. An impressionable impressionist. I go GuGu for Dada. Find flowers in the rubble. Listen for the ocean inside a bubble. I like to tickle things. I’m down with pickles. Fiddle with fickleness, but need to get things in cement eventually. I take heed of my needs. Play tricks, and do an occasional good deed. Take licks of and from an assortment of weeds. Turn smellz into soundz. Find art on the ground. Swim underwater through ancient burial mounds. I make balloon animals in my sleep. I inhale my life and exhale dreamspeak. I have a tongue in my cheek. Teeth inside my feet. A blurry 3rd eye with a broken windshield wiper. Like a soft, French kiss from a cotton-mouthed viper.
I’m a homesick, mountain goat on a flattened landscape of highway, amusement park infestation. A place where there is a bumper sticker for all occasions. Honking horns ruining vacations. Yet beyond the property lines lie those soft shoulders who urn for more. Who practice the inevitable, and take solace in the immeasurable. Those that lick their lips to the thought of that one phantasmagorical piece of elusive, cheetah spots artistry. That piece of pure originality of form and being. Those who pull thorns from the paw of intangible beauty. They are here too, and they will breathe heavy into your sleep. They bang a gong on your slumber.
Fragility lingers in this substrate too. Idealism can quickly falter under the weight of adultism. Cultural autism. Never-my-faultism. Under incessant banging hammers. 120 degree car interiors. Online bill pay. Hurricane foreplay.
I realize the fleeting nature of things. Molecules are anarchists. People are born to eventually die. This is not a bad thing, for it makes moments more special. Everything can become a one-of-a-kind. Every moment has the potential to be magic.
Everything you see and hear becomes a part of you.
Who is Gar Bailey?
Contact alGARhythm BaiLey at:
algarhythm.bailey@polyvi.be
www.garbailey.com
www.myspace.com/gar_bailey |
|
Contact Artist
Add to Profile
Add to station