A long dormant Eli Elliott finally emerges with a new piece, and while it only clocks in just over a minute or so, it’s a strong resurfacing. A word re-arrange on the Circumpolar Whirl (aka “Polar Vortex”), Polar Circum Whirls hints at some of his own personal head spinning cyclone’esque conundrums 2014 seems to be delivering.

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The most active page on this site for several months now has been the comment section to a Randy Prozac (aka Goat Worship) post.

It has been alleged that Randy had actually died some months ago. A newspaper clipping of his demise surfaced, and a mysterious girl named Britney Morgue was said to have taken over his website, which thankfully has remained fully functional and even occasionally updated.

While rumors that he had possibly faked his own death and was perhaps institutionalized were also suggested, it seemed many were convinced that Prozac did indeed exit stage left. Sadly it appeared no more works would surface, and many were crossing their fingers, hoping that Britney would at least keep the remaining ship afloat.

Odd back and forth comments have become a daily occurrence in the last few months which only fueled the mystery further.

“honestly, when i come to the Internet, i expect to find The Truth, and to see this level of obfuscation is just terribly disappointing.

i expect to find much more openness and transparency from a website that has clowns masturbating in their own puke.

i don’t think i will ever have the same faith in comments again.”

Today though, it appears as if Randy has stepped forward. Not only does he declare he’s still here (alive), but in extremely rare form he tilts the mask up and takes a few moments to explain the origins and motivations of his massive collection of work, both as a member of the video art group Goat Worship and his solo absurdist video projects that have followed.

For those that don’t know (and unfortunately, not to mention shamefully, this includes many, so-called, underground and experimental film curators) Randy Prozac and his former project Goat Worship, have put out some of the strongest underground absurdist cinema in the past decade, which in turn Randy has archived while adding new works, all available to view on his website SentimentalCorp.org . The website alone is arguably one of the best personal film sites in internet existence with it’s self hosted videos, interesting-engaging and mysterious navigations, as well as NO youtubes, NO vimeos, and thank god no stupid ass “facebook/twitter/tumblr” I-”cons” for the delusions of social misery-media “glory”.

To put it another way, if people still cared about art, specifically current art in the subversive vein, Prozac would have been celebrated a lot more through alternative media, articles, interviews, and screening requests. But we live in a dark period where most of the celebrated subversives of the past now spend more time curating their persona on facebook rather than creating new works or seeking out true underground works of others.

It’s perhaps because of this black-out that Prozac’s sudden surfacing is a rarity, as well as a relief for his well being, even despite his new found flip off to still admirers of his work.

And having said this, his statement below signifies a moving on, sealing the Sentimental Corp lid, having come to terms with the motivational madness which fueled the fire. Future work from Randy seems uncertain, probably unlikely, but if his ‘mask back on’ last sentence gives a hint that something might be brewing, it would likely aim to be something completely different.

Here’s Randy:

to whom it may concern,

the materials i produced were a method and process to deal with pain. i personally have no interest in goat worship or any of the video materials i created, they were made only as a ‘means to an end’ and were never fully intended to be shared, but i did share them and they remain an attached stain on me even though the internal matters have since been processed and released..

i don’t believe that clinging to aspects of the past is a healthy pattern to develop, especially when trauma and pain were involved.. i don’t believe in holding onto pain, or embracing negativity.. i once did.. i once thought i needed it and it convinced me that i needed it.. but i don’t and to be honest i hate most of the people goat worship attracts because they are often parasites who revel in their own suffering and the pain of others. i understand because that was the state the materials were created in. rather than project it onto others directly i opted to create a controlled platform where i could spit out the poison.

i didn’t want the pain i went through to.. the hatred i felt.. i didn’t want it to simply remain within me.. to crystallize into a state of being and become permanent.. cementing me into oblivion with ‘me’ projecting how ‘it’s everyone else’s fault how i feel’.. i am accountable for how i act and react to my own emotions.

the world has too much selfish cruelty and too many people who’ve developed no sense of compassion. people who are mental/emotional sewer rats looking for any piece of rot to validate why they should remain in that fixed state of perpetual bitterness and automated loathing.. i am aware that i have expressed and endorsed hatred and misanthropy and that it was a reactionary aspect of myself, but it was not the core.. and as i said, it is the part of a person that holds onto all the manufactured reasons why i am justified in feeling my hate..because it makes a person feel the illusion of strength.. but it’s not a real strength.. letting go of it was.

i leave the materials (goat worship etc) online because maybe they can serve some function, perhaps those that resonate with that toxic state of being can see the process i went through in order to let go of it, although i doubt that, i know it would be easier to mock me, or to laugh like a heartless sociopath and feel nothing but juvenile emotional cancer. i know all about it and good luck with that.

the materials i produced were also a reflection of a sickness that i see, but that doesn’t make them any better than what they articulated through visual metaphor. i can only hope they don’t contribute more to the neutralization and desensitization of peoples hearts and minds, even though i know that they probably do.. i chose to make fun of my pain and that is what goat worship primarily was, i laughed at the hurt to reduce the impact of it within myself.. i would not want it to be viewed externally as a form of validation or celebration of the negative aspects of the self..even though it was that at the time, a transmutation occurred and i am still working through the residual radiation.

and that is what it was.. an ugly healing process and no healing process is pretty.

now i put the mask back on..

Love always,

Randy Prozac

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FROM MY RECENT glimpses around the interwebs it doesn’t seem as if “STUCK FILMS” have hit the trendy blogosphere worlds which seek to find the unusual and then mock it up, so the regular internet surfer can have a grin and reaffirm his or her, usually false sense of, “normalcy”.

Though the world of “stuck” does have it’s own Yahoo group and some decent playlists on YouTube exist, unless you were looking for them or had a stuck fetish, you’d probably miss the world of Stuck films. I came across them thinking I had stumbled on someone’s performance art (which I believe I did), but learned the main thrust of these films is more fetish, as I began noticing the same theme throughout the various performance videos, which basically entail, a human becoming STUCK in something.

It seems the most common form of stuck films to be that of, usually women’s feet becoming stuck in large homemade sticky glue rat trap like floors. Lifting and contorting and curling of the toes takes place as the stuck performer struggles to free themself. Yet it quickly becomes clear, they are STUCK.

The preferred performance, which I’ve learned from various comments from videos, is for the foot performer to struggle, be in angst and slight agony over her stuck situation, as opposed to pretending to enjoy the stuck experience (which many stuck foot novices make the mistake of in their early videos).

Another criticism, as illustrated in the video below and the comment that follows, is the commercialization of stuck art, using cheap glue rather than the preferred rat trap glue, thus trying to capitalize on fast and quick fetish commerce. See the comment that follows this video. UPDATE – this video was deleted from it’s original source, likely due to said criticisms. The comment below was from the original upload.


“Disappointing that a veteran of the stuck community would not use real glue. Would love to see Camilla glued in the rat trap stuff. I still have some of your drawings on old floppy discs back when this was starting out. Now that Sticky-Site is down I suggest you build up your web site with some of your art work (you are a good artist).”

But going well beyond the foot stuck scenarios, are full body stucks. These performances involve the majority of the torso becoming stuck in something. One performer which stands out is Jan Bailey. She (technically “he”, crossdresser it seems) will manage to maneuver into a tight spot, become stuck, and then struggle to get out. During the struggle phase, a number of actions may occur. Pants slipping down, arms flailing around, and again bringing in the feet, this time within a larger context, the toes may curl and contort as the struggle to un-stuck the whole body ensues.

Below we see Jan get stuck inside a ladder, and to make the situation seemingly worse (though not for the viewer), the pants fall down revealing tight white undies.

Stuck films in a way are somewhat of a mocking of standard performance art, though without the intention. The intention here is more fetish, and interesting ways to execute the fetish.

Nonetheless, many stuck pieces are better than much of the current “performance art”, perhaps because of the clear motive for execution, and the often pretentiousness of movement found in typical P.A. is absent here, and in it’s place is a more honest drive to execute the most solid stuck possible.

The audience is also clearly more in tune due to the fetish nature of the act, while even putting in requests for new stucks. This happens frequently with Jan and she obliges, welcoming the performance challenge.

See Jan Baileys stuck work here on her YT Channel – UPDATE – This is Jan’s new YouTube channel, as the old one seems to have been deleted. Most of Jan’s videos from the old account appear to be here, and hopefully new works will follow.

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Absurdist Video Artist Brian Bress did a MocaTV video interview a few months ago, and an accompanying article from the KCET blog also came out. The article goes more in depth regarding Bress’s latest video art paintings, but also, surprisingly gives a nod to his original video work which we’ve championed here for some time now.

In Brian Bress’ one minute and ten second video, “World Report” (2006), Bress sits onscreen dressed as a news reporter, rhythmically chanting “Bangladesh,” until he changes the words to “dish, dish, this your dish, this your dish it’s super delish

The video interview focuses completely on 2011-2012 works, mainly incorporating video into painting, or to “force video to occupy the space of a painting.”

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Currently Bress has a show running through July in Rome:

Opening May 16- July 21, 2013 — Brian Bress, MACRO, Rome, Italy

Here’s Brian Bress interviewed by MocaTV which despite the annoyingly canned and standard fare quick cut intro which all such “internet TV” series feel the need to employ, the actual edited interview footage does a real good job at holding on to the the work for a number of seconds allowing the viewer to at least get a taste of the piece, in silence, no background music, just the work doing it’s own thing. Very nice, very rare.

Read also the accompanying article here – Playing Paint: The Video Art of Brian Bress

And, of course, Brian Bress and his Absurdist Video Art trigger, WORLD REPORT:

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Eli Elliott released a small slew of varying Absurdist works in May, ranging from movements in nature to nostalgic environments to his now and then autobiographical dry humor monologue pieces taken from real life circumstance and/or situation.

SPRINGS IN MY STEP FOR THE BEE’S OF ST. BURG experiments with slow motion and distorted rhythm while photographing movement in a way that is somewhat mesmerizing, and the totality of it all together, somewhat absurd.

 

RUNNIN’ DOWN A DREAM is an observational (and/or anthropological?) piece capturing the absurdity of a scene; the nostalgic cover band music from 30 plus years ago still being celebrated, the lost souls brown bag harboring about and the stereotypical American party time environment during a period where the media environment speaks of the bad only going to get worse.
For best quality change the viewer quality to that of “720p”.

 

 

 

 

MY ART OPENING tells the tale of a failed art gallery opening, created by our filmmaker and apparent artist (drawing/sculpting), Eli. It’s one of his “experimental autobiographical” pieces which he creates now and then, and it is rather humorous in both the delivery and the actual event, or non-event.  Change the player to “720p” for the preferred viewing.

 

 

 

 

To keep up with Eli Elliott’s Absurdist video art work, check his YT channel out at http://www.youtube.com/user/Elienation

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Underground filmmaker Nick Zedd was a friend of Taylor Mead and featured him in some of his own films and video projects such as ECSTASY IN ENTROPY and ELECTRA ELF.

Nick provides an excellent and honest recollection on Taylor, thoughts on his passing, and related thoughts on the current societal clusterfuck in relation to art, and the world in general. Special thanks to Nick for permission to post his interesting insight obit on Mead here on AVA.

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I met Taylor Mead in 1989 when we both acted together in a science fiction movie shot in the Hall of Science at the World’s Fair Grounds in Queens. I’d seen his acting in the seventies when I moved to NYC and saw Nude Restaurant, Lonesome Cowboys, Queen of Sheba Meets the Atom Man and The Flower Thief.

Taylor was a free spirit on film, exuding a peculiar elastic quality that was all his own…He had a languid goofiness that cut through pretension, an ability to hold your attention by virtue of an unexpected quality.

I used to run into him in bars on the Lower East Side where he always got free drinks. He would never want to talk to any female companion I might be with, but would converse about the Warhol years and other subjects. I was surprised at how politically conservative he was, defending the insane lunacy of the Cheney Bush junta’s wars of aggression which drained our economy and jump-started a new era of repression and naked imperialism that will no doubt result in the fall of the US empire and untold misery for millions of innocent people. Taylor’s political opinions seemed to have been inflicted upon him by the Fox News Terror Network, a source of malignant propaganda directed at misinformed old people too lazy to turn off their TVs. It was unfortunate that this barrage of poison had infected Taylor’s thinking, but politics had little to do with our shared lifestyles as underground outsiders and Taylor’s memories were feeble so there were no hard feelings when we’d meet.

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Once we walked downtown from an event in Times Square, stopping on 6th Ave so he could leer at bodybuilders in a gym on 17th street. Later we headed to Bowery Bar, where his presence produced a Parting of the Red Sea and afforded us entry into a snooty, vile watering-hole for young urban professionals immersed in a particularly repellant form of toxic narcissism that inexplicably enthralled Taylor. As muscle bound Ken Dolls reached around Taylor to grab their brewskies while engaging in besotted mating rituals with assembly-line Barbie Dolls exuding a noxious inbred plasticity, I asked Taylor if this was his idea of “fun.”

“These are MY people!” he exclaimed. “You need to get out of the Lower East Side, Nick.”
“But THIS IS THE LOWER EAST SIDE, TAYLOR!” I replied.

In 1999, I directed Taylor in ECSTASY IN ENTROPY, wherein he gave a brilliant performance as a leering pervert in a lap dancing joint, shot in a place called Art Space (rumored to have once been a whorehouse) briefly the hottest experimental autonomous zone in NYC. After a year and a half of community board and police harrassment, the groundbreaking performance space was padlocked forever, another victim of unrestrained government fascism, killed by a vicious vendetta of busybodies with too much power on their hands. Half a block away, heroin dealers continued to peddle their wares on the sidewalk, ignored by the cops and community board nitwits who were terrified of the existence of real art in the LES.

Taylor would yearly appear at the Poetry Marathon at St. Marx Church, delivering rambling oratorios accompanied by a shabby cassette player; self-indulgent exercises in embarrassing egomania which seemed to enthrall the less discriminating sentimentalists in attendance.

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Taylor hosted an equally self-indulgent stint at the now defunct Bowery Poetry Club, where on Friday evenings at 6 or 7 he’d fumble with his tape deck onstage and listen to himself talk while two bartenders rolled their eyes and waited for customers to show up. A few hours later, the place would be filled with pitiful amateur rappers boasting of their sexual prowess and animal machismo to an ugly crowd of clueless cretins who failed to tip the bartenders (who hated them.) By then Taylor was probably onto his fourth bar, filling up with free drinks before climbing 4 flights of stairs to his filthy apartment.

In 2005 I directed Taylor in the origin episode of ELECTRA ELF where he played Jennifer Swallows’ grandfather, shot in Taylor’s filthy one room apartment on Ludlow Street where he’d lived since 1979. Crawling with roaches and filled with trash and old paintings, this hovel was his final home in NYC until his greedy and disgusting landlord decided to embark upon a campaign of harrassment designed to drive Taylor crazy or kill him. Taylor stubbornly refused to be moved while the construction crews demolished the interior of his building until he ended up in the hospital and decided to accept a large sum of money to leave. A few weeks later he was dead, having escaped to live with a niece somewhere in the Midwest.

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Such is the way authentic artists are now treated by the city of New York, forced to flee in terror by troglodyte landlords and hordes of yuppie scum, poisoning every inch of “prime real estate” in an orgy of predatory capitalism; a degrading devolution of life based on “profits,” “the bottom line” and creating a playground for rich, spoiled brats with nothing to offer.

Taylor Mead was a living embodiment of freedom and slack…and therefore had to be wiped out…but his legacy lives on in our memories and in the movies, writing and art he left behind, if anybody still cares.

-Written by Nick Zedd.

Nick Zedd’s facebook page featuring his paintings, musings and more is here.