The Galadina Chronicles

While outside and taping their latest installation which they’ve named “Falling”, He pined for his Rasputin watch that Peter had so carelessly smashed two weeks ago.  As He fell over and over and over and over over again to recreate the emotional impact of humans falling, She could see He was tortured by his loss.  She stopped the tape and divulged where she had obtained his once prized possession.

He rushed to the corner of 5th and Broadway and met Carlos, the owner of Mexican Rodeo Belt Buckles and Knives.  He was overjoyed to find the large number of one-of-a-kind Rasputin watches Carlos had tucked away behind a set of sexy female photo lighters. He immediately handed over his entire annuity check and galloped back to the art space victorious.

He sought Peter amidst a quagmire of smashed glass, appliances, TV sets, computer monitors, baby carriages, canned fruit, toilets, porcelain dolls, wallets, telephones, cameras, books, starving artists’ art, passed out spectators just out from Barragan’s Wed Night Margarita Night, and blow from Peter’s last show.  He shoved the watch in Peter’s face, but Peter did not react… he lay still.  Oh no, Peter would not trump him again!  He fiercely nudged Peter with his pinky knuckle but still Peter did not move.  He called She for help.  “Could he be dead?” He thought.  If so, could Peter have out-arted them?  She would be sure this would not happen.

After failing to rescue Angus Fairhurst earlier this year, She trained and is now certified to perform CPR.  Since Angus’ untimely death, She has prevented other artists such as Wilbur Baraal and Morgan Sterling from obtaining post-mortem success before Galadina. She has become quick in her response time and has allowed no artist to have that prized artistic death known to kick-start any young artist’s career.  She stopped He’s ferocious pinky nudges and quickly brought Peter to a semi-coma state.  Death sells, but comas don’t. One margarita recovered spectator mumbled, “Is this part of the show?”

Moved by Peter’s stillness, He lay beside him to emote the coma within.  She rolled tape and lay on the other side of Peter to make a coma sandwich. “Coma” or “Lying Still” will be available to art fans as soon as Peter comes to.  TBA 2008 - ?

The deadline for the show at M Bar is looming.  On September 17th & 18th, Galadina must be prepared to showcase their work for the first time in LA in two years.  Inspiration however, continues to act like an anxiously awaited visitor who refuses to arrive on time, leaving Galadina with nothing but caviar and pâté to dwell upon.

Across the floor Galadina’s flat mate, Peter, is keeping active.  He sees empty wine bottles next to Galadina’s projection screen and SMASHES it.  He brings home a tv left out on the street and SMASHES it.  He brings home an antique vase left beside an Antiques Roadshow Port-O-Potty and SMASHES it.  He brings home the neighbors pug that barked at him and CALLS his sister to pick it up.  To watch Peter swell with inspiration left Galadina feeling pained and jilted.  In an effort to come up with an idea they looked through their catalog of works: Hands Shaking, Windowless Room, Cotton Ball Cotton Candy, Knees, Is This an Exhibit: Or Just a Light Bulb Hanging From the Ceiling of an Empty White Room?.  But nothing.  They took a walk to a taco cart outside their space which moved every 30 minutes as proposed by law.  Nothing.  They visited MOCA and counted the 3,000 bags used for Tom Friedman’s sculpture titled Untitled.  Still nothing.  Instead they went back home defeated.

Across the floor Peter’s side had been filling with folding chairs with spectators who came to watch his current live exhibition SMASH THINGS.  Galadina pulled their Charles Lock Eastlake chaise to witness the exploration of how pieces of things fly when hit. He momentarily looked down to see the time on his early 20th century pocket watch that once belonged to Rasputin, but to his horror, it was not in his pocket.  No! It was on a toilet Peter had stolen from the tenants below, and laid across like a sacrificial watermelon.  He moaned.  Peter cried, “Virgin!” Peter pushed his body past the knee-high rubble of broken glass, baby doll parts, monitors and other found objects to lift a mallet buried beneath a mound of smashed fruit, turned back to the watch, and in true Gallagheresque fashion, he raised the mallet and destroyed He’s prized piece.  (She was quick to catch He’s tears in an envelope, label it “Salty Bitter”, then videotape the remainder of He’s anguish.)  The room fell silent.  For dramatic effect, Peter raised the remaining bits of the watch, lifted the lid, and let the watch fall into the toilet.  Just like that, it fell.  He’s tears quickly gleamed.  Inspiration finally showed up and was Galadina’s for the taking.    

We ask you fellow artists, in what unlikely scenario has inspiration knocked on your door for a late night booty art call?

To return to our website go to: www.Galadina.com 

With Wimbledon and the Euro Cup games over, She and He went to Echo Curio in Echo Park last Sunday night to see the Pick-Up Sticks, Puppies & Kittens, and Azalia Snail play amidst the gallery’s eclectic assortment of themed art.  Little did Galadina know that they were going to be taught at this quirky local art gallery and curio shop. 

Upon arrival they were introduced to the curious New American Wave of Linguistic Distortion; the doorman told them there was a required $5 donation to enter.  Until now He and She had limited their understanding of the word “donation” to mean a “gift” which is “bestowed voluntarily.”  But now it seems that the word “Donation” is used in place of the term “Cover Charge” amongst small galleries rising in the art ranks.  Galadina were immediately humbled.  They had limited their deconstructive art to merely physical and visual media, but with the help of the genius proprietors at Echo Curio, they have expanded it to include everyday communications.  What if we all arbitrarily changed definitions of words to make the voluntary acceptably involuntary? Or to make words mean something else entirely just to see the kind of reactions that may result? 

Galadina immediately started work on their contributions to this New American Wave of Linguistic Distortion.  Below are the new terms to be used by all artists who practice living daily art:  

TAKE YOUR TIME
Use the phrase “Take your time” when you want something right now.   

AT YOUR DISCRETION
“At your discretion” should be said to someone while conspicuously paying attention solely to your own.

CONVENIENT
“Convenient” will be said everytime it’s not. As in, “Give us your money when it’s convenient.” Then take the person’s wallet and walk away without regret.

A.S.A.P.

The acronym A.S.A.P. now means “Assume Serious Apples Pee” - Does it make sense? Maybe.  Now conveniently give us your money again.

PROSCIUTTO
Use “Prosciutto” for “Ham.” It just tastes better.

Please share with us the results from using this new deconstructed vocabulary.

Like the crack of a whip hand crafted in Zimbabwe to the back of their heaving calf’s, S/He is awakened by a phone call from their new old fashioned rotary phone ( The sixth one this month as the other 5 have been stolen by Peter). It was a local gallery called M Bar in some fantasy land known as Hollywood. Neither in their jurisdiction nor in line with the jurisprudence of Galadina, but a place they had been told wild musings about from their Albanian friend Jurista during his juridical days in Los Angeles. Apparently this gallery wanted Galadina for a show, and Galadina wanted to show their SHOW. She cocked an eyebrow at the request, He pursed his lips; obvious signs that they had accepted the offer. More details to follow as ideas are spun, much like a spider web is spun into a beautiful web. They shall spin stuff from their ideas. Art stuff. Were any of you lucky enough to attend the last Galadina show in Los Angeles?  Thoughts?  Hopes or expectations for this one?

Northern California may have 1,400 lightening-sparked fires but Los Angeles has one art-sparked fire that will burn them all.  Art galleries beware: Galadina is together again.  He arrived from his one-month mission hot with the steady coals of accomplishment to find She lactating the kerosene themes of death and money to ignite flames of a performance art revolution onto the fresh milked cow of Contemporary Art.

Galadina’s charge will be another explosive musket-like moment in history similar to that upcoming well-publicized United States revolutionary fight to free itself of bad tea.  Why do the British pride themselves on their so-called splendid tea?  Obviously they have never tried Sweet Clementine Chamomile Organic Herb Tea by Celestial Seasonings-the makers of calming anti-revolutionizing tension taming tea.

So get your sparkler paint brushes ready, throw a canvas on the grill, crack open a Keystone can of retro film and join Galadina’s explosive artistic movement where together we will finally have the world question things about stuff.

The revolution will not be televised it will be performance arted.  Are you with us?

*** Galadina can be seen this 4th of July performing “Hot Dog on a Grill” by the Little Tokyo Udon Noodle House.

Last week was hot; unbearably, gruelingly hot in Los Angeles. She lay fanning herself cuddled next to an icebox while across the floor Peter built himself a dark cube space with a fan to crawl into. She considered going to a hotel, but it was too hot to call a cab. She entertained the thought of going to a museum, but she had already seen the current exhibits in the most air-conditioned ones. She debated whether she should move to save herself, but couldn’t bring herself to do anything but stay put.  Soon Peter stole her icebox.  With no walls and much heat, She lay dying with nothing but her fan.  Before such a great event should happen, She made sure to videotape herself withering away.  Should the battery in her camera still be running, and her death captured, she could die knowing that this video expressing the permanence and monotony of death would seal Galadina’s place in art history forever.  A dead artist in a dead artist’s art.  Galadina’s stock would soar.  He could sell their performance work for millions.  Up to now, they’ve only held a private happening in Berlin for their benefactor Rolf Lundren.  The piece was called “Catering.” Strangely there were 20 other artists with the same concept in mind.  They were each paid 100€ for their work.  Can performance art be bought?  How can a moment or expression have a price?  Is currency only tied to definite objects?  Does then buying a performance give it indefinite mass?  Are ham sandwiches truly better with mayonnaise?  And is Nick Nolte a believable Italian in Lorenzo’s Oil?

Just then, a crew of construction workers showed up and walls came up around the building.  The light cut off from She’s half burnt face.  Central air was installed and air now blew on her sweat-drenched body.  Mother heard of the heat wave and called on a crew to save her only child.  Peter returned the icebox and immediately began working on tearing down the new walls.  He appreciated being able to do so in a climate controlled environment.

The heat wave passed and so did another chance to earn a retrospective at MOCA. A postcard arrived from He.  Things it seemed were going well with ¿Epar?.  Too well.  It was time to abandon his child once again. He will return the first week in July.

Los Angeles, for those who don’t know, consists of only four neighborhoods: Silverlake, Echo Park, Downtown and Compton. Some say Eagle Rock is a burgeoning artists’ community where the galleries struggle as all real galleries should. However, since Galadina travels only by public transit or vintage Vespa, anything up the 2 is a mystery. Detecting LA’s emerging artistic voice, Galadina saw it was time to have a permanent live/work/live residence in the city.  With He away, She chose downtown where the income levels are inspirationally disparate and vegetation is sparse.

On a Saturday evening, She went to an opening at THE HIVE, a gallery with artist studios in downtown.  Disappointingly, the walls were much too crammed with paintings to appreciate a single one.  Appallingly, a cashier was seated at the entrance and not a free plastic cup of wine or cracker in sight.  Lamentably, the studios, no bigger than a Monet Water-Lily Pond, were too small for Galadina’s largest work to date-HANDS SHAKING.  So far, only the dimensions of the Houston Astrodome could adequately showcase the immensity of the piece, which requires two artists to walk for a whole two grueling days across a stadium and then…shake hands.  Pause for reflection.

Next, She visited LA’s “Lofts”.  The managers and real estate agents could not grasp why She chooses not to speak.  She could not fathom lofts with running water, finished walls, and cable.  A tear dropped.  These are but spacious luxury apartments in disguise.  Artists do not come with amenities! She stormed out.  “Where is the life in no work in life?” she pondered.

Then inspiration awoke.  Galadina needed no walls, only space.  Pure space.  Elysian Park? A street corner on 4th and San Pedro?  A tunnel on 2nd?  As She walked to partake in a cup of espresso with Damstin Kahn, she saw a building near the LA River under construction.  She walked up the stairs and found home.  No walls, no plumbing, just an empty floor with exposed studs and an inhabitant; a local artist named Peter Fiennes.  The two stared.  He moved to the left. She moved to the right. She then took a tube of paint from her purse and squeezed red on the floor.  Peter stepped into it.

Since moving in Peter has stolen three microwaves, two video cameras, and a toothbrush.

Father’s Day is around the corner.  She sits alone in a friend’s blank studio.  She drinks a glass of wine, smokes an American Spirit.  She cries for her Papi, then cries for herself; She has no daddy issues.  She let’s herself boil with imaginary anguish… WHY DADDY DIDN’T YOU ABUSE ME?!!!!  She lets the pain rage; it is all she has to save her now.  She lifts a bucket of red paint, throws it on white canvas.  She takes a used tampon from her artist’s kit and stabs it in the center of the canvas on the red paint.  She then steps back, takes a look, and puts her cigarette out next to the silly string.

Happy Fathers Day… from Galadina.

  For one month Galadina will separate.  She will stay in Los Angeles, looking for a loft and a parasol, He will take his yearly voyage to Belgium to visit his illegitimate son, ¿Epar?.

Illegitimate ¿Epar? is now 17-years old and living on the streets of Brussels.  He has taken a two-year sabbatical from his job as a “griller” at the local Burger King.  Like his father before him, he hopes to absorb the rough day-to-day life of Belgians and through his suffering discover his artistic voice.  With nothing more than a government funded tent and a detestable daily supply of delicious waffles and Trappist beer, ¿Epar? finds the strength to persevere, reflect and chronicle his sojourn by hand on his new MacBook Pro.

¿Epar?’s mother, Daisy Bell Thomas, has encouraged her son’s quest by changing the locks to her house and pretending to not know him.  For a mother it is hard to shun her own son, even in the face of an artistic vision quest.  Since she cannot reach out to him, from time to time she drops by to spit on him and walk away.  Once at a local crepe shop, they crossed paths, she threw her crepe’s chocolate sauce on his shirt and traced the word “Bonjour.” The shirt was immediately auctioned and is now in storage at the Tate Modern.

¿Epar? has yet to develop his artistic platform.  His father envisions him becoming a new icon in Russian Ballet, but a loving parent such as He will no doubt accept any form of expression ¿Epar? chooses.

¿Epar? has chosen, however, his artistic name: ¿Epar?  Singular without surname. ¿Epar? values his bastardom, noting as much in his interview with Belgian art magazine L’Art Même.  “They say Pablo Picasso was a bastard, Jackson Pollock was a real bastard, even Diego Rivera was said to be a bastard.  As I see it, there are only two things that make a man a real artist: being a bastard, or having your father die before you turn twelve.  My father still refuses to die, but at least had the decency to leave my mother and I before I was born.”

For Memorial Day S|He pondered over the state of America and how to truly memorialize those that have fallen for the greater good of this nation.  Inspired by 6 bags of Fritos and 6 Natural Ice Beers, the following dirge was composed:

SETTING: Imagine natural outdoor environment with Soderbergh blue gels, surrounded by peace with a faint dying banshee/car alarm in the background.

Artist Chuck Close steps out to voice S|He’s dirge:

“On this Memorial Day we salute the brave soldiers that have fought and died to what seems to be an endless war.  Due to your prematurely crushed artistic innovation, you unknown unfulfilled artists will never see a gallery nor taste the oakey hinted flavor of an Opening Night bottle of wine. S|He could only imagine the suffering and loss during this time and the impact on friends and families.

• Henry Poitier of Lubbock, TX: We memorialize you and your idea for “30-Foot Tall Tree Man With Tutu.” Due to harsh weather conditions and soggy wood your hopes to see a 30-foot tall tree man dance would never be realized.

• Derek “Deez” Schneider of Kern County, CA: We memorialize your idea of weaving the images of Heavy Metal Gods, Queensryche, Stryper, and Rush into a Sistine Chapel replica with black light in your basement. But since your mother never believed in you and your pot ran out, you only got through half of Geddy Lee’s face.

• Karen Stollenwork of Gainesville, FL: During third period art class you began to express your inner pain by exploring the world of “cutting” but… ‘It hurt too much.’

We salute you and the many unknown fallen artistic unfulfilled visionaries.  In protest of the lack of true tribute to this honorable holiday, we encourage all Americans to participate in an act of performance art terrorism by attending as many BBQ’s, beer pong games, picnics and Memorial Day sales as possible.”

Chuck Close takes a seat.

S|He hand out a batch of 10% Off Frederick’s of Hollywood Memorial Day White Satin Lingerie Sale vouchers to attending veterans.