Stephen’s b-day animation

Demo

CD cover inspired by the white lodge from Twin Peaks.

Super Band NYC

Some musician ads from Craigslist.

I wonder what would happen if you put all these musicians together and formed a super band….

I have this great idea where you do a reality skit based on Craigslist interactions. For example: the audition process for “Super Band”… I could be a super charismatic, no talent, pretentious band-leader searching for my super band. The audition process would be filmed along with rehearsals… eventually leading up to a real gig. This character would be hailed as Brooklyn’s Ziggy Stardust. I could also be an aspiring ego-centric hipster model and get a TFP photographer to follow me around all day, in return I would promise exposure in a foreign market, I would photoshop a whole magazine centerfold with my glamour shots and try to pass them off as legit. I could be a trust-fund entrepreneur who is bringing back Esperanto and hire unpaid students to personally assist me every morning for an hour with breakfast, coffee, and translating applications to Esperanto. I can be an ass-hat who hires actors to hang-out with freshly made acquaintances and see how the actor can develop these relationships so I don’t have to waste my time. I can offer a service to “hang-out” with strangers when I’m actually an introverted caveman so I would just grace people with my presence and not talk much… the list goes on. These are just a few of many potential skits in the SchizShow. When I have money I’d like to produce a comedy show… where schizophrenic characters become real.

Imagine riding around Manhattan with a huge Israeli flag … then the next day a Palestinian flag… then the next day gay flag… filming peoples reactions. It’s probably been done but ya know. What about that.        

BOS 2014

Poster for Bushwick Open Studios 2014 by Petty Nobles Collective

Illustration by Péter Berke

Typography by Peter Slusarski

The poster concept was to create an outsider figure for an event hosted by a collective of outsiders. Being artists and musicians we don’t subscribe to normal ways of living and therefore needed an image to reflect this abnormality. My idea was to do a police sketch looking poster with Bob from Twin Peaks as the type of model. Bob was a demon spirit that possessed people in Twin Peaks and a similar energy might possess us while we work or perform.  When we sat down together at the living room table, my friend Péter suggested this weird character that he always drew and began to sketch. A little bit of coffee and Carlsberg later he ended up with these twin figures. Having the illustration ready to go, all that was needed was some information about the event. Upon completion, we were 2,000 miles away in Copenhagen and got our buddies in Brooklyn to put posters up 2 weeks before the event. The event was a raging success. To put it simply, shit gets done when you work together.

Lord Gay Demos

Here are some demos I did while living in Copenhagen under the pseudonym “Lord Gay”. You might ask, “Why is the Lord Gay?”. I don’t really have an answer to that because I thought of it while walking. Imagine…”Lord Gay and His Homophobes” hitting the stage. The outrage! Protestors are already trying to form an opinion on why they should boycott future performances and ban the band from playing somewhere near you.

Lord Gay’s mission was to work on songwriting skills, play all instruments, and do the best “he” could with the tools available. The biggest hurdle was getting over the singing anxieties. I still think his voice is weak and pitchy but fuck it, it’s good enough. I try to sing like no one is listening (because no one is) and I’m comfortable with these limitations. I had spent a few all-nighters at the rehearsal room down in Sydhavn or as I would frequently misspell the name, Syndhavn, translating to “Harbour of Sin” also known as my heaven on earth.

I was lucky to have access to a room with so many instruments and equipment. My weapons of sound were a white telecaster through a 15-watt single speaker fender amp and a yamaha bass through a huge cab. An assorted palette of effects pedals helped shape color on over-dubs. Most songs I would track the guitar for an arrangement and build it up from there. When it feels OK, I go all in, hemorrhaging my heart and embracing the process. The long bicycles rides to and fro gave me an opportunity to meditate, relax, and reflect on the process of soul mining.

These tracks represent a vision of what is possible when you give mr. gaylord a small tool box. Garageband preview handled all the tracking, my ears guided the engineering where everything was recorded using a built-in laptop microphone. Mixing was about finding a happy medium between headphones and my girlfriends speakers to try and make good shit.

These days Lord Gay is still looking for a reason to keep on believin’ … but you can help with a series of small donations, just call 1-800-LOR-DGAY today.

 

Dirty Thirty

A poster warning neighbors of upcoming debauchery.

 

Daydreamin’

Staring at the sun, reminds me of Copenhagen in January when clouds and overcast dominate the days and nights. 17 hours of sun in 31 days. Darkness rules over the country and sensory deprivation takes hold. Everyday, there’s a grey ceiling on top of you and the weight of winter widdles you down. To help alleviate some of the burden, one must keep good company, burn candles, and eat d-vitamins.

It had been a long time since I’d seen the sun and I forgot what it felt like…then one morning, the sun is shining like you’ve never seen it before. I roll up the shades, open the windows and allow the air to flow freely through the flat. I sit with my plants by the window sill and together we absorb the golden waves of warmth. The sun shines on everyone and everyone is filled with joy. The pendulum has shifted and we’re riding the upswing, it’s getting higher and hotter each day. I don’t feel bad, I don’t feel sad, because the sun is shining. In that moment, I played a song that became known as my “sun song”. It’s about the ecstasy of its light. You don’t know what you’re missing until it’s gone but, when it comes back, it hits hard. This day had about 3-4 hours of sun light but it felt like an eternity.

 

FAA

An ad brought to you by the False Advertising Agency

Amsterdamnnn

 

We all need a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Today’s reason, I’m tired of feeling tired. I get so lost sometimes, I don’t know how… but it happens like a bad habit. Assessing and reassessing my situation, planning for the unknown.

What should I be doing? Am I standing still? I think the solution is to do what feels right but when day light creeps in through the window it’s a reminder that work needs to be done, money has to be made, and a stomach needs its feeding. As I pour through empty thoughts from last night I’m wondering… do I get enough sleep? do I sleep too much? what happened to time? I think back to a time when I didn’t need to ask these questions… the flight towards Amsterdam, just before dawn with a buzz from Krakow. I’ve got a small bag, some clothing, a notebook, camera, iPod, savings and no responsibilities. Destiny pulls me in any and every direction.

From a bird’s eye view, Amsterdam looks like a plaid sweater sewn into the earth. The kind of sweater no one buys, an ugly blue/green/grey that ends up forgotten in a thrift store. As the plane touches down I feel an overflowing sense of time from my pockets, I’m twelve hours early for my meeting and I can splurge on a good meal, a cheap Heineken, and a long nap.

I exit central station and march through the caverns of a commercial district. The shopping center is littered with souvenir stores and coffee shops. Every so often, you hit a square that is surrounded by a big clock-tower, a church, and a crowd of tourists aiming their lenses at these massive architectures. I follow the canals to the next point of interest. The canals are unique to the city like the imperfections of ladies leg with varicose veins, scars, and cellulite. The air is damp, with the occasional gust of grease or hypnotizing scent of sweets. The energy of the people feels familiar with faces from all across the globe; a small scale manhattan wearing a european fashion brand. You could call it “a touch of dutch”.

It rained everyday but the rain was ok. There were many times of wet rain, the rain that really gets you wet, but that was ok too. The only exception to my high tolerance of discomfort was when moisture had soaked through my socks and into my skin. With each step, I began to think like I might be able walk on water. The seriousness of the situation had escalated to code red when I could not absorb any more water. Just one more pint and osmosis would beset me. So, I had to seek sanctuary from the showers. By good luck, I had an audience with an old high school mate. We got to know each other riding the F train and sharing the occasional lunch during our adolescence. Years had passed us but nothing much had changed. Having secured a roof over my head I’m not looking to spend money, just looking for a good time. It’s a nice way to live in the big city as a small timer. I’ve experienced new tastes, spread good nature, and made sense of myself.

When I met my friend, I foresaw adventure and light hearted trouble. If you could imagine two old pals riding a shotty bike through town, swerving in and out of traffic making animal noises and heavy metal screams than you can imagine the joy of letting loose in a strange land. I could’ve cared less if a police man reprimanded us for driving recklessly and the heckling at no one in particular. We were wild and very much alive… like birds in the rain, circling around, close to the ground. When we weren’t chowing down over-priced burgers in de Pijps or socializing at the pubs and clubs we stayed home and relaxed with cable televisions all-day Simpsons marathon.

Riding 2nd class on a bike is just another way to get around the city. Or you could walk… because it’s free. So I walked everywhere, in times of rain and shine. Well, what to do in Amsterdam. Do drugs and fuck a hooker. I couldn’t afford to spend money on the museums or the hookers so I spoiled myself with a joint. At 3 euros, it seemed like the most fun I could have. I thought I would smoke a joint, walk around, observe and write. If and when I got the munchies, I would eat something nice.

“Walking through the streets of Amsterdam where no one gives a damn. My senses are shocked as far as the eye can see, but it goes further. It gets darker, over here you can get away with murder. The kind of place, like living in a day dream. I’m not busy with anything, I’m not occupied. Just thinking presently. I’m a cowboy in the streets seeing everything as it seems. Walking through the fire, the gateways into new senses. A city inspiring the dark sides. Resisting temptations, challenging morals. Where do you stand? Here and there, where is your line and how far will you push it? In this moment I do not see. But only feel, a sense that is not real. Here I am, writing away and what do i have to say. Is there anything I want to say? Just writing and writing away. I think about it. But I don’t. What do I say, what do I say? I can say anything, everything, whatever I want. So I write and write.. it’s alright, then I read again. This voice in my head. Writing whatever I have to say. It says anything. It says whatever it wants to say. It does anything, anything it wants to say. Noise, sounds, and visions. How the hell is this happening. I’m whatever I want to be!”

The most vivid experience is seeing women sold as commerce. Red-light women market themselves like chops of meat at a butcher. You got filet mignon, porter-house, ground-beef. There’s a disconnection when snake eyes tempt you to the dark side. The whole scene is curious, empty, and a bit uncomfortable. For those frequenting, flirting back and forth, they haven’t a problem doing business with the stutes. I cannot take it all so seriously. It all seems so unreal, a false sense of reality. Some of these women are gorgeous, others are trash… I’m intrigued by the scene and walk around. I think what the hell is going on here. I observe the sex machine. Prostitution is a career choice that revolves around the beauty and mystery of women. I can’t remember how many times I’ve heard the phrase “sex sells”. Pleasure is big business here and I imagine all around the world. Since the beginning of all desires, men are drawn to the nature of women. It has inspired so much passion, action, and creation. Is there any shame in buying a prostitute? I had to ask this question and agreed that you would have to live with that dehumanizing feeling. These women are human people, mothers, sisters, and others. Primordial pleasures should be treated with a bit of sanctity. When you eat, eat presently with appreciation for the many flavors in every bite. When you make love, be present, respect, and appreciate your woman. You could say “well, fuck that”. And well… that’s just like… your opinion.

It all seemed so chaotic, all the people, the tourists, the locals. The city center is really on a hustle. I think about what do most people want? All those people on the street, at the supermarkets and at the cafes? I think everyone just wants peace, some kind of shelter, food on the table, and to feel loved. My crush of love came while eating french fries with mayonnaise, some lady had the gall of telling me I’d die of a heart attack. Well… I guess. Consuming two weeks of fat in two minutes might cause mild traffic in the arteries but this is a one and done deal. She also babbled that I’d better watch out for thieves. Well.. I guess. I was more preoccupied with trying decadent dutch pastries from the one and only dutch oven. I recommend everyone grabbing a piece of dutch honesty.

 

 

 

Goldman Sucks

A demonstration in Copenhagen took place today where about a thousand or more citizens showed up in the blistering cold to voice their opposition against the danish government selling a percentage of energy stocks to Goldman Sachs. I’m pleading ignorance because I don’t know what impact this deal would have on the danish people. In simple terms, I think that having a piece of the pie gives you say on the value of the pie and the ability to choose how you want to distribute your piece. So, energy prices could go up at will. I assume it’s a money thing because as with most corporations, the main agenda of these power brokers is to make the most profitable deal even if it undermines public opinion. These corporations and governments are wealthy beyond our understanding and do not need to concern themselves with pleasing the ordinary person. This is a conversation of money and power beyond god. If you really want to change things than it’s going to take more than hand-written signs and political conversations. The wind chill could make bare hands numb in seconds but fortunately I brought my gloves and took advantage of the hot coffee some political groups were handing out. I thought that was nice. Walking among politically active people sharing their agendas was nice too. I felt a bit of nostalgia towards the Occupy movement. But, this isn’t my fight. I’m just an observer in solidarity with humanity, dignity, and having a voice.