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07.31
(no explanation given)
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07.29
The view out my apartment window toward Augsburg College.
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07.27
The demands of this greedy world bind us and rob us of being always happy and free, and some of us just don't know how to pretend we are for the sake of a smoother ride through life.
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07.25
Karl is a gifted writer and poet, and his art is insightful and often humorous in its dead-on social commentary. man on verge of collapse 2006 depicts our species as it now stands - a teetering corrupted dinosaur lurching toward failure and extinction.
The headlines have become increasingly (as Lori put it) "all weather and war," and everyone seems to be pretending it's all okay, but it's getting hard to believe in a happy ending for the story playing out on cable news. Climate collapse and WW3 are both well underway.
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07.24
I first heard him out my window. He's got a loud voice: "I got false teeth. I'm deaf in one ear. I been shot at, stomped on and stabbed. I've run with the Hell's Angels Minnesota, Hell's Angels Los Angeles, fought the Outlaws in Joliet. I've seen it all, man..." I looked out and he was standing at the corner across the street giving this speech to no one. He continued "...and like a lot of roadies do in the off season, I ran coke for the C.I.A. out of Bogota..." With that I snatched up my camera and dashed outside to lend him an ear.
As I approached he panhandled me for a dollar and when I obliged he introduced himself as Bradley Bartell ("you might have heard of me") and we started down Franklin Avenue. "Used to play bass for Emmylou Harris back when we were dating," it began. "Mostly I was her roadie - did that for her on the Stones '69 tour, and off and on for the Grateful Dead in the early 70s. I filled in for John Paul Jones one night when he was too drunk to go on. Emmylou started jamming with me after that night..." The wildflowers in the dewbottle were for Emmylou. He gushed about her for the next two blocks.
As we passed by the Holiday station he spotted some guy leaving on a Harley and dashed - midsentence - out into traffic to beg a ride, nearly getting hit. The dude on the hog told him to fuck off. When I caught up with Bradley, he was was in a foul tongue and threatening passerby. "Motherfuckers never give you a break. Egg sucking dogs have NO CLUE who I am!" He hushed down and passed me the dewbottle, looking both ways as he went for his pocket. Then held up his thumb, and on it a gold ring. Proof. "This was given to me by the Virginia Freemasons."
Sensing my supposed awe, he smiled the twinkle of secret knowledge and went on his way, head high. I turned toward home and walked a block before I realized I was still carrying Emmylou's wildflowers.
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07.22
I am saddened to learn of Chris Whitley's death last November. I enjoy his music very much and had the opportunity to meet him a couple years ago in Minneapolis at the 400 bar (photo). Of his guitar playing Rolling Stone put it best: "The post-Hendrix explosion of whammybar wankers hasn't produced a single axeman who can compare to Chris Whitley. His eerie, bluesy voice and American gothic tunes frequently draw attention from the fact that he picks like a pissed off Doc Watson jacked through a Marshall stack."
He will continue to be missed by many.
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07.21
Taken about a block from my apartment.
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07.19
This was taken a couple months ago. We haven't seen Michael in a long time.
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07.18
(no explanation given)
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07.17
Picnic with Lori yesterday by Lake Calhoun. Goat cheese and crackers. Talkin' and kissin.' Tuna and shells. Wind and smiles.
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07.15
Seen in the Remington Gallery at the art institute.
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07.14
(no explanation given)
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07.13
I noticed these two suffering from heavy withdrawl symtoms behind us at the Soul Asylum concert last weekend.
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07.12
I like these morning portraits and wanted to post them, but I don't want to give a false impression here. Katy and I are good friends and artistic conspirators - not lovers.
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07.11
I love the way she brushes her hair back over her ear. I don't know why. I just do. Little things like that.
This was taken at the Seward Cafe on Franklin (Minneapolis). My roomate, Katy is having breakfast with her mother in the background.
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07.08
Bluesman Charlie Parr relaxing after a set at the Caooze in Minneapolis. Charlie is the real shit.
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07.07
Cornmeal, the great jamgrass band out of Chicago, has used my work on the cover their latest album, Feet First. While I love this photo, and hope it sells lots of records for them, their original concept was my favorite.
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07.06
(no explanation given)
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07.04
John Fields and Dave Pirner of Soul Asylum making a comeback attempt at the Taste of Minnesota festival in Saint Paul. They sounded really great.
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07.03
(no explanation given)
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07.02
Deadly hermit spiders such as this one are quite common in rural Minnesota.
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Previously...
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