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Looking back |
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Although I’ve drawn and painted all my life, the RECORD BREAKING ART concept began with an accident in the kitchen of my apartment in Mill Valley, CA. I was hanging out with my artist friend, Eben Marsh. It was a rainy Saturday. We got out dozens of India inks and nibs and were sketching, experimenting, drinking beer, and feeding off each other’s creativity. Eben is a phenomenal artist. A natural. But nobody ever sees his work because it’s so personal to him that he keeps it under his bed…a huge stack of unbelievable stuff. But that’s another story. We took turns changing the records (cd’s had just started coming out, so we were picking from my collection of 1,000 vinyl albums.) I had just played Traffic’s, The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys. Eben pulled out Pink Floyd’s classic, Dark Side of the Moon. Then he dropped it. It hit the tile floor at just the right (or wrong) angle and shattered. We picked up the pieces and started assembling them on the white table. It had broken in a very interesting pattern. We started attaching the pieces to a large sheet of paper with Elmer’s Glue. Before that task was even complete, Eben was dribbling different inks with a dropper from three feet above, checking out the way it would splatter. We were on to something. Next we realized that the way the vinyl broke would determine part of the design. We tore into the record collection and pulled out every shitty record that had ever been left behind at a party, and there were quite a few. Like demented Vinyl Storm Troopers we destroyed one after another. The Bee Gees, Rod Stewart, Barry Manilow. It was Black Saturday for disco music.
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Some would just break in two, while others would literally explode, showering black shards across the room, tinkling down behind furniture, not to be discovered until I moved. Within minutes we evolved into shattering them inside a pillowcase and then dumping the “bones” on the table for analysis and reconstruction. It was fun. The design possibilities were endless. I challenged Eben. You create 10 and I’ll create 10. We’ll meet in 90 days to compare the results. I was excited to see the different variations we would both come up with. I did mine, but Eben never made time to do his. My first 10 focused on the graphics alone. I loved it because there were no rules. I chose colored vinyl for many of them because of the different look. I practiced breaking, cutting and melting them. I cooked one in a frying pan, burned myself and almost set the kitchen on fire (they taste like chicken). I took another into the woods and blasted it with a 12-gauge shotgun. Bad idea (all but a tiny piece of that record is still out there in the woods.) Over time I began to incorporate elements from the band or artist into the design, and displayed them in bars, coffee shops and small galleries in Long Beach. Some designs were very popular, such as the Beatles and Pink Floyd pieces shown here, of which I’ve done dozens of variations of each. They are all unique with a vinyl record being the only common element. Because very little vinyl is pressed these days, I concentrate on the older groups (I’ve done this with CD’s but they’re just not as pleasing, visually.) They measure 30 X 23 inches unframed. I’ve created more than 200 of them. I sold them initially for $200 framed. Now they are $1,500 to $2,000 unframed, and believe me when I say it’s not making me rich. They take a lot of time. I’ve worked with people on the designs of their pieces, but most often people just say, “do your thing.” Most people have some favorite band or artist they love more than any other, and RECORD BREAKING ART turns that into a permanent visual display. When people have trouble deciding on the band or album, I give them the following advice…if you had to spend the rest of your life on a desert island and could only have one record to listen to, what would it be? That’s the record you’ll want. JT Long Beach 2006
Waiting for the sun. On top of Haleakala Volcano, Maui.
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