Archive for the ‘Collapse’ Category

joey

JOEY

Eat Your Vegetables

Joey heard Charles climb the creaky stairs, the opening of the bolted door and saw his daddy enter his room palming a head of wet lettuce. Charles was dressed in tan Dockers and a yellow golf shirt that read CromNet across his left breast. His blond hair was neatly trimmed and his face clean-shaven.

“You are going to eat this,” Charles said holding up the head of lettuce.

“I don’t like lettuce,” Joey replied.

“Get in your goddamned highchair!”

Scared, Joey scrambled off his red racecar bed and squeezed himself into the metal highchair.

“I work goddamn hard at the Internet company to get food to feed you and goddamn if you’re not going to eat your vegetables.”

Charles had removed Joey from school a year ago when he was thirteen. Thirteen was the age a student was legally allowed to halt their studies.

Joey had said it a million times before and he said it again now:

“If Mommy was here she wouldn’t make me eat my vegetables and if she was here, I probably would.”

Charles lifted an inquisitive brow. “Has mommy been trying to send you telepathic messages from heaven again? Did you rip the tinfoil?”

“Yes, and she said I didn’t have to eat my vegetables, but I didn’t rip the tinfoil.”

“I call bullshit, Joey,” Charles said, inspecting the floor-to-ceiling tinfoil. “Because I know for a fact that tinfoil keeps out all telepathic transmissions and I don’t see any holes or tears.”

Joey, wearing his silk pajamas with white trim, stared at Charles from his highchair with pert lips, his blue eyes offering nothing.

“You have an I.Q. of 80. You’re practically a retard staring at me with your dumb eyes. You know that?”

“Yes. I know, Daddy.”

Charles walked over and told Joey to open his mouth. Joey tightened his lips. Charles squished his mouth open and pressed the head of lettuce against it.

“Bite. I work hard at the Internet company to buy this food and I want you to eat your goddamned vegetables. Now take a bite. If you don’t, you’re going to die, Joey. You’re going to die of malnutrition.”

Joey batted the head of lettuce away. It came to rest near an empty glass container of chocolate milk next to his racecar bed.

“I need to go poopie,” Joey said.

Charles sighed. “Fine. Take your poopie and then you’re eating the lettuce.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Joey said.

Joey hopped off his highchair and entered his tiny bathroom. Charles had taken off the lock, but Joey shut the door, lowered his bottoms and sat down on a white urine-stained toilet.

He grunted and squeezed and heard a plop. He got up and looked at a nearly perfectly round ball of poop with a small crevice. Joey wished more would come. His stomach hurt, but he was glad to get some out. He had awful gas and pangs of constipation.

He flushed the toilet without wiping and opened the door.

“Did you wash your hands?” Charles asked.

“I forgot, Dad.”

“Goddamnit.” Charles grabbed him by the nap of his neck, twisted on the water, rubbed blue soap over his hands and put them under the stream and then toweled them off.

“You’re bad, Joey. Nothing but a tack in my ass. A dozen tacks in my ass.”

“I don’t mean to be tacks in your ass, Daddy.”

“Well, you are. Same routine every day.”

“Yesterday it was radishes and I had gone poopie earlier.”

“It doesn’t matter the type of vegetable, Joey. You won’t eat them is the point.”

It was true, he wouldn’t eat his vegetables and his daddy had kept him locked in his room as punishment until he would. After mommy died and the fat cops had taken the neighbor away, Joey couldn’t eat his vegetables. He once loved them, because his mommy had a garden teeming with all sorts of vegetables, and she loved them. Her garden was her passion and he associated eating vegetables with his love for his mommy. However, when the neighbor man ‘violated her love flower and put her to sleep in the garden’ as daddy put it, he couldn’t eat them. Never would he eat them. Vegetables equaled emotional pain.

“I will never eat my vegetables, Daddy.” Joey said with finality.

Charles eyes shrunk into a glare and he angrily chewed his bottom lip. He then lifted Joey off his feet and tossed him on the racecar bed. He quickly grabbed the head of lettuce, squeezed open Joey’s mouth, and twisted the ball of lettuce side to side. Joey’s face turned red as he began to wheeze and choke. Daddy then punched his left leg. Daddy had yelled every day and tried force feeding Joey, but this was the first time he had struck him. Joey reached back and tore away a section of tin foil which did nothing but enrage his father further.

“I told you never to mess with the tinfoil. Never!” He grated the head of lettuce deeper into his mouth and jabbed his ribs repeatedly. Joey finally slapped the lettuce away. He spit out remnants, regained his breath and said Mommy had just telepathically communicated that he didn’t have to eat his vegetables ever. Even though it had never been fully explained to him, Joey understood that telepathic communication were messages silently spoken from mind to mind. His daddy had always believed in some strange things Mommy used to tell him. It was harmless she had said. Silly distractions to keep him not so bitter about his underpaid and undervalued job at CromNet — the Internet company.

“Mommy also said you should let me leave my room.”

Charles stood up, hands on his hips and stared at Joey with fire. Joey was going to do more than leave his room, Charles thought. This had gone on nearly two months and this day, it would end. He no longer cared if Joey was only thirteen and it was his parental obligation to keep him until eighteen. He grabbed Joey’s ankles and pulled him from the bedroom, down the carpeted stairs, through the living room and down the concrete steps outside the house and into the yard.

Joey stood up, felt the back of his head and saw blood on his fingers.

“That hurt, Daddy!”

“You are no longer my son. Go!”

“But I don’t have any shoes.”

Without sitting, Charles pulled off his leather shoes and threw them at Joey who sat down on the grass in front of their two-story brick house and put them on. They were many sizes too big.

“You just go now,” Charles said.

Joey stood and shrugged. “Okay, Daddy. Can I keep in touch with you telepathically?”

“You can try whatever you want, but I’m going to tinfoil the entire house.”

“What happens if you’re at work?” Joey asked. “The Internet company won’t let you tinfoil your office.”

“You’re a smartass. The worst smartass I ever knew. Get off my property!”

“Okay. Bye, Dad,” Joey said.

Joey turned and walked away. He would walk the many miles to the river and swim in his underwear, he thought. Swimming was something he and his mommy once liked to do when he was much littler and she was alive; however, he promised himself as he walked down a sidewalk in his over-sized leather shoes, he would never eat another vegetable never, ever even if it meant he became malnourished and died.

Kelly Broich is the author of the novel PRECIOUS.  He is also the author of the video below.

Facebook link.

ECO BOXING (Collapse)

 

 

THE EARTH IS FOR ALL OF US (Collapse)

 

 

NOT AS GREEN AS ME (Eli Elliott)

 

 

YOU’VE GOT TO SAVE YOSELF (Buzz Coastin)


 

 

CLIMATE CHANGE NOT REAL (Collapse)

 

 

DOMINANT SPECIES (Collapse)

ELI E / KELLY B . “Moonscape of Failed Hope Finds a Yesteryear of Good Fortune”
Continued from their recent sessions.




TYKYLEVITS. “Se hänelle kertokaa”




BUZZ COASTIN. “SEE THE MAN AT TURD & PUNCH BOWL”
a video mix mashter of current event reality sewn together with commentary and mirrored with b-movie fictionality.




ANDY HECK BOYD “HELL HOLE (2013)”
a video art piece comprised completely of animated internet GIF’s, backed by random audio from television and cinema.

eliekellybSTILL

eliekellyb

Recently a collaboration took place between two Absurdist Video Artists, Kelly Broich the ringleader of COLLLAPSE productions, and Eli Elliott who’s been traveling around via greyhound bus . He recently made his second visit to Collapse Studios in Boise, Idaho. The last time, a few years ago, a number of shorts were shot, and a feature film was rumored to have been completed (yet never released).

This time around a series of improvisational pieces were performed, filmed and edited.
The “Eli E and Kelly B Sessions” proved to maintain, if not improve upon, the oddity, absurdity, and bizarro visual imagery of their cinematic collaboration history.

Here are the completed sessions:

“You Can’t But We Can” is a sequel of sorts to an earlier performance between Eli E and Kelly B called INCHWORM . This time around “the band” expands a bit while the sounds improve.

Kelly B brings back his character JIMMY for this brief trigger piece. Eli plays Jimmy’s pink colored seizure.

The two turn to brutally subjecting the viewer with an 11 minute aurora of audio “sound healing”. Theta Brain Wave Therapy.

Kelly B. performs a shop-vac solo:

Apparently, Eli E. underwent a “screen test” for an upcoming production slated for 2013.

Some avant garde penis enlargement commercials were also filmed, but were quickly banned from YouTube and 5 other video sharing websites.

Here are some updates for some of our video artists:

COLLAPSE / (AMERICAN FILMS)

This outfit has, oddly, been dead quiet lately with no new work having been sent in or posted anywhere online.

But it looks as if that’s going to change, very soon.

Stills are now surfacing from a recent short which are part of a series of works dealing with women, and blood. These will be the first in a number of short experimental absurdist works which are to be filmed and edited throughout the summer, and there’s hints of a feature film for the fall.

Apparently these will be a major departure from the satirical, corporate-political angle Collapse has penetrated forth in the past. Perhaps recognizing the limits of satire in an already over saturated doomed to likely fail situation, the guys, and new crew of gals, have risen above with a fresh focus on art for arts sake. From here on out it looks as if the gloves are off and now it’s all about fucking shit up for the sake of creative fun; adding COLOR to Collapse, rather than whimpering over the same old song and dance.

(Coincidentally, well known peak oil and Collapse activist and author Michael Ruppert, recently hung up his own doom/gloom pursuits, coming to similar conclusions, and opting for more art and spiritual based outlets.)

MATTHEW TOPARTZER

We got a release copy months back, and now CELWERY is available on Amazon for download or purchase, at least for now. Go HERE.

As he states in the description, CELWERY is an unfinished film, and likely more of an installation work better suited for screening in a multimedia fashion. Matt writes:

i’m still gonna do a multimedia film. it’ll probably be done in powerpoint and ported into the flash media format. and i’m gonna continue on divergent paths regarding both linear and non-linear film production.

So the amazon release is likely temporary, and will be taken down soon, as CELWERY will get reworked into something larger. He’s amassed a lot of other footage as well, and there are also 2 more potential films from Topartzer coming this year. Likely we’ll have one completed film this summer to share.

In the meantime we’ve learned Matt’s a prolific author and also heavy into experimental music. Here are links for his books as well as music downloads:

SCHIZOPHRENIA AND PRIMITIVE PSYCHOLOGY

THE SILENCE of THE DEMOCRATIC IMAGINATION

FANTASY, FYOO CHER ISM

HOT POT AND UNDYING IMAGINARY FLOWER

MUSIC:

http://soundcloud.com/visualgrandma

http://soundcloud.com/luckychickenaudio

http://luckychickenaudio.com/

ELI ELLIOTT

Things are beginning to emerge as well for Eli Elliott, and it appears his latest location has him in a position to get a bit more messy with “textural” based vid works; little dialogue or speaking and instead more visual, and physical, exploring. He has at least a half dozen pieces set to film, and has already warmed up with a jar of petroleum jelly.

If he can harness himself away from his riding in circle routine (see video piece below) there is a longer work he says he’d like to shoot based around one of the weirdest states of the nation currently. Besides the recent real life Zombie attack, the state offers a regular mix of oddity and stagnant nature which resonates perfect with the Absurdity of the times.

still from “Epti Spirit Channeling 2″ by Dick White

Creative impulsion is a common thread that The Absurdists featured on AVA all have in common.  It’s what drives them to continually pump out massive amounts of work usually unseen in the practice of “regular” artists. But it is also what leads many to go overboard;  creating in ways which stray them from the Absurdist Video Art side of things, in which they’re good at, and more at home with.

When they’ve immersed themselves fully in their usual outlets for creation, a holding capacity seems to be breached, and when that compulsion hits, then an overflow occurs.   They often find themselves blindly branching out to places they normally would never have bothered with, out of sheer compulsion to do so, rather than some sort of engineered “creative exploration”.

Just as water is poured into a glass reaching the rim to full capacity, it’s at this point the pouring needs to cease. But if there is a compulsion, if one cant’ help oneself, then the pouring will continue, and water will spill over the sides, down the exterior and onto a new surface, unfamiliar to the bubbled interior world of the original glass container.

This is how the Absurdist B Sides end up being created. They are works that have spilled over the sides and onto new surfaces, where a new audience resides. An audience which wouldn’t have been reached otherwise.  This new “audience” is forced, and sometimes fooled, into experiencing Absurdism in a different way or a different medium, usually more “accessible”. This exposure would have never been accomplished if the work remained inside the familiar glass. And in some cases the real satire is revealed as such, not in the work itself but in the reaction and comments about the work.

The irony is that The Absurdists didn’t intend to “reach a new or different audience.” They basically were just restless.  In some cases, instead of setting up lights and gathering the usual co-conspirators to create, they simply pull the trigger on a cheap webcam, and warp into some other world.  In other cases they choose to create in an entirely different medium altogether. And in others the medium and the set ups are the same, but the theme and content are completely different, usually in response to something.

Here is the first round of B-sides from AV artists who’ve overflowed into different territories or immersed themselves onto different mediums.

DICK WHITE EPTI

With constant filming, writing, and editing, you’d think this American Films/Collapse co-founder would have his plate full. But somehow his compulsion for Absurd expression, spilled over and gave birth to Dick White, a mystical “medium” average joe who’s been chosen by “the other side” to communicate important cryptic messages like, everyone should start wearing yellow. 

This webcam based creation spurred thousand of views, all emanating from a new surface. And in turn it spawned dozens of comments, both siding with Dick, empathizing with his new found gift as a medium, and those who became furious with Dick, calling him out as a fraud with bad editing skills.

You are so gifted. I pray for the power to do this..

I do mediumship, this makes me want to vomit. I have had spirits come to me, and never was I not myself. never had I channeled to have to speak to them. this is ridicioulous.

Do you realise what a complete and utter fool you have made yourself look. You tried one of the most amateurish attempts at ‘attention seeking’ that i have ever seen. You dont even know how to operate editing software. BUSTED.

Watch as “Dick” responds to the negative comments received in the first video, while attempting to further convince the new audience of his channeling skills, as a strange image emerges after the 3 minute mark and he instructs followers to partake in a 3 day fast.

Bro, i dont know if you reviewed this video before uploading it and shit, but around 3:30 or so theres some sorta something hovering to your right side..its like your image and shit and its like your tryin to get the fuck away from the epti dude who’s taken over your body and all that..crazy shit man!

 

Hi Dick, thankyou for living your truth. It takes much to trust as you have done. Please do not look at people’s comments as to how consciousness is shifting from these channelings. don’t make assumptions. The toning was great, integral part of the energetic activations occurring. All I can feel from the Epti energy is love, wisdom eagerness. Consciousness is very layered, multidimensional and profound, and not linear. Having said that it’s also very simple as Epti’s instructions are.

 

ur touched in the head mate :| see a docter mayb??

“Divorce,” the short video piece by director Kelly Broich (who may also be one of the strangest satirists working today), featuring Fran Valentine and Eli Elliott, is yet another astute critique of one of our social institutions. I don’t know, but after watching this video I fear that by the time the Collapse cult is through with us we’ll be stripped of all our illusions (and clothes) and forced into a nude identity-crisis.  This time the folks at Collapse have chosen to challenge one of our culture’s oldest and most sacred institutions, marriage.

Valentine repeats “Divorce, divorce, divorce” over and over again until the word seems to lose all meaning, though the emotional significance to the viewer is undoubtedly striking. The word divorce is practically a demonic word to many. Nobody likes saying it or hearing it, but hearing it reiterated in this way, combined with the short looped minimalist electronic soundtrack, achieves the effect of reminding us that it’s just a fucking word like any other.

Near the end the video flashes to an artfully done experimental fight montage consisting of quick choppy cuts showing Elliott and Valentine in a kitchen, and ends with the strong yet simple statement, “Get the fuck out of my house!” — definitively bitch-slapping  two-hundred thousand years of patriarchal oppression. On a subjective level,  roughly fifty percent of viewers will relate to being trapped like a caged lunatic in an asylum of marital dysfunction.  

Today over half of all marriages end in divorce.  The rest in death. Divorce is a pandemic sweeping our country like mouth herpes. The chart to the left cites the most common reasons for divorce.

However, not all hope is lost. There exists an effective tool for fixing nearly any relationship, no matter how far gone. I’m talking about the how-to book entitled The Magic of Making Up, which can be purchased for thirty-nine dollars at http://www.magicofmakingup.com.

Other books make ridiculous claims, but none of them really do the trick. The methods found in The Magic of Making Up are based on years of exhaustive, peer-reviewed, focus grouped research in the field of relationship repair. I bought this book last year and it was worth every cent. I have never felt more loved.  

Don’t let divorce rip apart your marriage and drive you to drink or into a second-marriage which will statistically probably end in divorce. Remember life is short—YOU ARE GOING TO DIE—just like most of today’s marriages. I highly recommend watching “Divorce” with your mate to remind them of what can happen.

Brian Burks is a relationship critic at Healing Hearts.

Book Link: The Magic of Making Up – Only $39

Collapse: http://www.facebook.com/fran.valentine?ref=ts#!/collapsetheater

What scares the shit out of me is that I know a Jerry Jeffers who fits our protagonist’s profile. He’s on SSI, takes psychotropic meds and always has a “business” dealio to offer. Gadzooks you fucks, get out of my head!clvngodess

COLLAPSE Theater (American Films) continues to churn out new work, while performing re-edits on often missed older works. The latest re-issue is from 2005, entitled LOVE FLOATS MY BOAT.  This piece was a gem in its original form, and now tighter and somehow even more bizarre, it made a fresh debut this New Years Eve at an art gallery in Boise, Idaho.

Featuring Kelly Broich and Brett Netson, with cinematography by Casey Broich, LFMB is about “Jerry Jeffers”, a groupie who wants to set up a concert for his favorite one hit wonder band, JACKPOT, so he enlists the help of an angel investor, “Burtrom Casey”.  Burtrom meets Mr. Jeffers  at his home on Ray Way (an actual mobile home in a trailer park where American Films shot most of their early work, now occupied by Collapse actor Sam Stimpert).  While listening to Jeffers stammer on about the concert proposal, while Jeffers dances around, plays with scissors and tries to learn Spanish from tape, Burtrom eventually calls him out as an unstable, crazed lunatic of sorts, and denies him the deal. A melee ensues where Jeffers goes from getting more and more pissed, to settling back down and trying to start over. Jeffers attempts to sit up straight, put the music aside, and talk some business, “okay, let me tighten up, we’re doing business now!” 

In typical American Films “what the fuck” fashion, the message of art versus commerce takes an absurd twist. The would be investor Burtrom suddenly switching gears, pulls out…The Book of Mormon. Passages are recited and Jeffers is carefully monitored by Burtrom for any signs that the message of Mormonism is sinking in.

“Loved the Mormon bit. Backmasking & apophenia! I knew there were references I didn’t even notice as such.”  – from demiurge, Kenneth Freeman.

One of those references is Burtrom’s vomiting cut in between his readings from the Book of Mormon. Current event relevancy is worth mentioning since an individual running for the U.S. Presidency, the barely hanging on to lead front runner Mitt Romney, has all the generic image qualities for the “President brand”; the only problem is that little purple elephant that no one can seem to get past: he’s a Mormon. The reason no one can get pass it is the same reason Burtrom’s vomiting is placed on a level playing field to that of his reciting of Mormon passage. Both acts come out as incoherent gibberish. The Book of Mormon is filled with complete and utter nonsense.

LOVE FLOATS MY BOAT does a 360 on the viewer; it initially settles us in on believing the lunatic here is the nervous poverty stricken penny saving Jeffers.  But then the true lunacy is revealed: money and religion.  There is a shot of Jeffers sitting in disbelief, glasses resting on nose, mouth open staring silent at the preaching nonsense before him; suddenly we relate to his situation, as we see the convoluted driving force behind Burtrom Casey. And eventually Jeffers does, in fact, figure out the game: Mormons don’t do business unless you’re a Mormon.

LOVE FLOATS MY BOAT (2005/2012)

AVA reviewer Brian Burks takes on the latest Absurdist endeavours from theater and video art troupe, COLLAPSE.

    “Bear Killin’,” the short video piece directed by video artist Kelly Broich, featuring performance artist Anne McDonald, is one of the strangest clown videos I’ve seen this month. The film shows a female clown knifing and then ripping apart a stuffed Winnie the Poo holding a heart that says “I Love You.” It is tempting to apply meaning to this film, even if no real meaning exists. The symbolic imagery seems to suggest a sort of deconstruction of childhood motifs common to Western culture.

    The stuffed toy bear, a source of bedtime comfort to so many children is dismembered by a clown, of all things, the traditional source of entertainment at birthday parties, fairs and circuses. This revolting clown then proceeds to try on Winnie the Poo’s head. After trying on the freshly butchered skin, we hit our dramatic finale when the heartless clown tears open Winnie’s heart.

    The video is fascinating and disturbing, unnerving and thrilling; it is painful, yes, yet it can also be therapeutic if embraced with open legs.

    Thankfully this video was short because it aggravates my coulrophobia, but a perverted, courageous side of me wanted to overcome my fear of this multicolored monster so I proceeded to watch the homicidal clown kill Winnie the Poo over and over, again and again and again.  

Just look at this thing. Notice the mismatched gloves? One for killin’ and one for fashion? Who does it think it is?

The Collapse clowns don’t stop here…

Meet Boner Salad—part of Kollapse for Kidz.

“I’m your friend!”

    This video is disturbing with the acidy pedophiliac basement feel, but easier to digest thematically… Boner Salad is revealing and demystifying the bitter truth of the world, and he’s doing it to our children: he’s waking them up to the realities they certainly won’t understand as toddlers and will probably never understand as adults.

  ”Life is meaningless, there is no God, and babies are bad,” says Boner Salad in a delightfully sardonic voice. Boner’s message to the “kidz,” and the moral of this video piece seems to be that the more babies we create the faster we eat the earth. We must accept the simple truth that life is ultimately meaningless, God’s laws are nothing short of arbitrary dogma, and His word amounts to nothing more than fairy tales with which we abuse our children. It is time to throw off the cultural and religious blinders that are directing us toward species suicide.  

    But maybe not. Maybe Boner Salad is just a dickhead who likes to scare little kids.

I fired off Facebook questions to both Broich and McDonald for more clarity as to the motives and inspirations behind these pieces. This is what I received in return:

   “Many in the Collapse cult are undergoing a metamorphosis,” said McDonald. “These are no longer costumes. Clowns are who we are becoming, who we want to be, clowns are who we really are… inside.”

    Broich sent back a clown painting made as a child with a simple “artistic statement”: “It is a 1989 self-portrait of my true inner-clown.”

From the above painting we can see that Broich’s genius was obvious even as a child, though nobody of significance noticed in time to save him from himself.

Brian Burks teaches ancient Esperanto at Carrington College and is a freelance art critic.