It has been a long day of editing, writing, mailing and other non-art related functions. Thankfully, a friend invited me to USF's annual Art House; an event where all the students open the classrooms and studios and show their art works. I was quite tired, but I did promise my friend that I would enjoy myself.
The festivities from CAM carried my eye beyond the perfectly manicured party foods to another impeccably green lawn nearby from which grew out what seemed to be a 20 foot head of Lincoln. Alas! An aged call from the political arena. I ventured out there to find that is was surrounded by shiny, lit up robots and more cardboard sculptures that had nothing to do with what one might expect of any sort of partisan party. Although there were mini-fireworks present in some ode to something.
I did tell my friend that I was going to enjoy myself that evening and I found entertainment in the green field of cardboard scarecrows. Since I was to enjoy myself, I was in luck to spot a silver air stream with party lights, lawn chairs set out in front of it and a table with many (still vertical) bottles dotting the silver trailer landscape. It seemed like the perfect place to explore after the CAM ceremony. My legs were tired and the chairs looked welcoming. Among the lawn furniture and people occupying them I saw what looked like a book shelf. When I peered into the trailer, there were more shelves with books and magazines inside. It was a curious assemblage of writings. I promised my friend that I would enjoy myself and it seemed like I just would. I picked up a couple of books and one zine from the collection and headed to one of the still empty chairs. Since I did not recognize any of the chatter around me, it was easy to focus on the writings at hand. I found the art zine to be of particular interest as it was geared towards more serious issues, but illustrated in a comic-book, lighthearted manner. To my surprise, I did not notice that nearly an hour went by and I was still sitting in the same spot with the same beer at my side. As cynical as I might have been about the surrounding events, this, what I found out was called the Book or the Thought Mobile, was actually one of my more enjoyable pieces of Art House. I must admit, I quite enjoyed myself." -Anonymous Testimonial