Posts tagged: Benjamin Fisher

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #37

Josh Killiingsworth and K.C. Killingsworth

Josh Killiingsworth and K.C. Killingsworth

Here’s to the ongoing recherche pour le luxe des divertissements et des réalisations, Three Friends Mondays invited performance in the caffeinated confines loops its engorged growl of destiny, the Show and Tell Open Mic following in self-reference like a massage after a hot bath.  Came March 23 all chilly and wet Napolitan at the gates, the “Blind Dates” edition heralding a harmonious trio afterward espied engaged in small talk, so magical was the chemistry.  Phase One already brimming with a misty essence, a prompt on the command line, the reassuring Americana of KC Craine gathering our focus and we were in for an evening.  Second Phase volatility underway, perhaps some of the pieces shared by Josh Killingsworth lyrically dark, but his voice oh so sweet, the subtle fingerstyle of his dad (another K.C.) accompanying on guitar gorgeous.

Ashia

Ashia

Safety glasses on, proceed to Phase Three, phenomena surge, careful, careful, the amazing cello and voice and brave musical endeavor of Ashia, molecules colliding, periodic table in question, theorem k.o.’ed by post-science, we’re learning again, observations reign.

Goodness gracious for spacious skies does The Show and Tell Open Mic strain at its leash on occasion, begun so on-time that even Splice Finders was caught in a half-assed leap for for the record button by the time Christine Honitsu White had begun in another language reciting.  Welcomed we the comedy stylings of Mike G reading Starlite Motel, then could Steve Williams and Constance Hall stake the pre-warmed own turf.  Patrick Bocarde brought us our monstre poétique knees with material by Rick J and Melissa Sillitoe.  ‘Twas Wendra who told us that all her songs are long, and it was Myrrh Larsen whose songs, including the aching “Homesick” which ends Part 1 of the Open Mic, are all about our longing.

Starlite Motel

Starlite Motel

Starlite Motel dove into Mike G’s “Deep End (for Dennis McBride)” and tagged relay Rick J baton sideways poem “When Nothing Gets Bored,” a restless play of words also by Mike G, scatters Melissa Sillitoe’s “Ashes.”  After Chad MD shares a little poem, Judith Fay Pulman springs into a poem by Rick J.  Then it’s bonus panels, accommodating Wayne FlowerMichael lifting a Luke Lefler lyric, Wolfgang Reinhard, The Ambassador of Truth, Christian Kenseth and the new Three Friends Caffeinated Librarian, Mikey Golightly.

We’ll meet you at the “page” where we host the Three Friends Mondays: Caffienated Art podcast with good intention in our hearts, Wonderful, but you feeling the molten golden goose-flesh raised virtuoso upon hearing this fulsome audio feature you may wish then future clicks to save away, angled sense and hanging out iTunes in the dry of the tiger, though it collates unwell wethinks, and scruffy unrepentant links, this formula denotes:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435468

The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast #9

For the second of three Show and Tell Gallery Productions events in one week the featured art was feeling multi-sourced and the touchable performers were  familiar and reliable.  Not so mit podcrash inducer Splice Finders feeling a patch of blackness, perhaps due to driving around Show and Tell Gallery Towers for half-an-hour looking for a parking place to touch, or perhaps due to the touched feelings of the besotted gentleman whom Richard Schemmerer astutely escorted “to another gallery.”  More likely it was Splicey’s maniacal desire to employ both mono- and tri-podal digital capturing thingies that distracted him just long enough that he did not notice the flashing standby light feeling like being touched on the stoic Olympus LS-10 until the middle of Eric McEuen‘s set. 
touching1
We’re afraid that you’ll need to go back to the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #30 podcast to hear the one about the fish – that toe-tapping one about, ironically, disappointment – because the only part of his set that was captured consisted of Eric’s touching interpretations of, among others, Neil Diamond and The Beatles, and the Splicemeitser cannot afford even the few cents in heartfelt royalties that would be due those deserving songcrafters.

Feeling: A Touching Show was itself missing the work of Gary Aker, who was feeling a touch of the crud on March 5, 2009.   That left Patrick Bocarde, Brittany Baldwin and Rick J to flesh out the touching performance portion of the feeling presentation with spoken words, whilst the visual art by Rage Anders, Melissa Armstrong, Dave Benz, Brittle Star, Nicolas Hall, James Honzik, Chris Ives, Elizabeth Kuzmovich, Richard Schemmerer, Anna Todaro, Robin Urton and Cathie Joy Young remains tactilely available at the gallery through March, 2009 or monetarily yours at the sensualist shrine of your choosing indefinitely.  Attendees Wayne Flower, Michael Berton, Tom Mattox, Christian Kenseth, Benjamin Fisher, and Dan Tree and Emma (and Celestial Concubine, who touched down at the after chow) have all long since felt the sheets and touched the pillow.   The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast caress thine soft ears just there, no, there, yes, that’s the spot, and on the spong-iTunes-a-dermis subscribus so if you want to, and you feel like it, then it’s okay, you can touch its link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435468

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #33

Eileen Elliott, Toni Partington and Constance Hall

Eileen Elliott, Toni Partington and Constance Hall

In changing, difficult times we lode our mothers and cling to our static, and these broken weeks are nothing if not changing, and cultish if not diffident.  You are reading this attentively, and we are grateful and starved for commitment.  While nicht nähernd the steady and inexorable keel of a cult, the ongoing series Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art once again extended its thermal-fleeced fingerlimbs northward to the region known as Vancouver, U.S.A. – the ‘Couve,  the “Ghost Town” implicit in Christopher Luna‘s observant munchings.  And veri-fiberly the invitation was extended pro looma towards Toni Partington, published in VoiceCatcher 3, Cascade Journal, NW Women’s Journal and others (her work, that is – not the humble invite from Show and Tell Gallery Productions).  Toni coaxed poet and award-winning artist Eileen Elliott and published writer/editor Constance Hall to turn a dreary late Winter evening into something of warm flickering ink and essence. Dalla memoria, nel carattere, Constance Hall shared from a prose poem drawn on her Sicilian family roots.  Eileen Elliott presented several elaborate pieces of visual art each varied in tone and texture and words to elaborate further the tale.  Then Toni Partington approached the accumulating ears with offerings from her upcoming poetry book, For the Love of Agnes, and other of her material that concluded with a poem for three voices, performed for the first time, all three writers onstage, Constance’s husband Steve Williams on bell; it was swell.

crashandbettycrop

The Crash and Betty Show

Another two-parter, a garter-grabbing, rabble-arousing combination free speech festival and Spring training wake, the Show and Tell Open Mic always follows 3FM:CA and the mixed metaphors long afterwards.  After a brazen plug for Oregon Society of Artists we were treated to three poems (including the poignant and aptly-titled “In My Dreams”) from Mike G (fresh off his first sick day in six years).  Darest the parenthetical wouldst overtake, we enjoyed a coupla musical ditties from The Crash and Betty Show, followed by more spoken sword face-offs, the first part/round the Dan (Raphael) and Walt (Curtis, also number five-and-a-half) show.

Walt Curtis

Walt Curtis

Steve Williams rejoined the party with a Christmas poem and spotted the Stick Man.  Despite the bench-clearing brawl outside his flat Wayne Flower had just written “He Is Cruel,” whereas Chad MD had come to a realization and stepped up to the plate with “Honey,” and Christian Kenseth had dug out three poems and chose to share them after all.  End of Part One.  Simon Diamond shared a poem (“Return to Exile”) and an anti-poem (“Poets of a Technocratic Dreamcoat”) (in two parts) (yes, it’s often necessary).  Nathan Reynolds also delighted wtih a couple of new and adorable toss-offs.  Reinhard Wilhelm (Benjamin Fisher) imparted a dialectic dilemna “for everyone who calls themself a poet.”  Rick J commanded a uneasy quietude in the course of indeed being a poet, delivering three difficult pieces in the stillness.  Dwight Peters championed “A Merry Cause” and disturbing “Expressions of Joy (Paintings of 1,000 Different (Moans?),” and  purported rain boots stepped through the sharp distance tracing tears through “Sun, Salt, Sand and Time” with some guy’s rib (indeed there must be purpose in pain).  In extra innings, Garret Potter and “The Ambassador of Truth” (just a rectum his anger), off respective stints in the Texas farm system swing at the vacant space bubbles.  “There’s No Difference,” we’re told.  Viva le manque de différence!  Why did we stick around this late, then?

Oh, yeah, in order to record every at-bat for the podcast, naturally.  Watch out for the roadkill when you pass through here at the podcast home field advantage.  And peering over the DRM fence, waiting for one to fly out of the park, part and parcel of our spoken World Series, one of our biggest fans, iTunes chomps on a link, bun and relish the feed:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #32

silly rob childish

Rob Gray

Intensity, brilliance, contrast… yes, those are nouns, exceedingly important to this nounery that bloguets forth of the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art and other art purveyed by Show and Tell Gallery Productions.  How easy it should be then to employ such parties du discours superlatives in the service of these lines regarding the February 16, 2009 event.  But ease be forewarned that this reckless hope may choke reconcile upsetting and broken ever-be, which is fine with us – we’re up to the challenge.  And so forth were welcomed the multidisciplinary Rob Gray and the multi-discipled Jack Klatt and there was intensity, brilliance and contrast and so forth.  Glorious, riveting and superb are words that also flow from the recollections of their performances, captured for part one of the audio podcast by the drooling and productive Splice Finders.

National Poetry Slam legend has it that Rob was a member of the first ever Ventura Poetry Slam team to compete at the National Poetry Slam competition in Austin, Texas in 2006.  Taking chances and not holding back are noun-like phrases that might suffice as euphemisms for his singular and industrious trail, as he has been making music under the pseudonym silly rob childish for four years, so far releasing sixteen solo albums and EPs.  Start looking for them; maybe start with Artshole of which he is founder.  On a whim, in the pursuit of adventure, he’s in Portland now, and we’re thankful for his new coordinates.

Jack Klatt

Jack Klatt

Also just moved to Portland (from somewhere near the Elektra label circa 1969) Jack Klatt arrives  “steeped in a long tradition of Minneapolis folk music” – thank you for the head start, Twin Cities.  His delicate odes and haunting ballads stick to the walls like smoke and shadows, which are nouns, but they are no substitute for these songs, and these similies are really no match for sitting quietly and listening to Jack sing and play.  Or should we call him “howlin’ bobbi lee” to maintain editorial consistency?  We just want to hear another one.  We strongly encourage you to catch either Rob or Jack, preferably both, to consume what they’ve made and enjoy what they do.

Comes a time to change the agenda to the Show and Tell Open Mic and employ nouns of shorter and more varied character.  Melissa Sillitoe (who may have the pseudonym “silly toe curatish,” what if everyone had one? send us yours today!) and Joel Wegman performed Melissa’s drama-in-progress-within-a-drama-in-progress.  Mike G (“gimme da Mike nowish”) shared an early indicator of his talents, and more-than-proper-nouns Christian, Judith Fay Pulman, Michael Berton, Wayne Flower, Paul Evans, Dennis McBride and Benjamin Fisher joined the chorus line with indicators extemporadish julienned, and… and even yours unruly among other wordy speakers mic-ish, as well as guitary music makish Colin and Dylan.  We made so much noise that silly splice fiendish was obliged to split the pod atom in two, always something, often glorious, riveting and superb.

Thus the resulting three-part, two-hours-and-change (sorry, but it’s worthish every moment) is to be found here, alongside others that came before and those yet to come, to Portland, to the inviting and Three Friends Coffee House, the “arty three friendish” of the coffee houses where this stuff happens and sticks to the walls like shadows, like art, even like… intensity, brilliance, and contrast.  Checked it out now?  Still have Jack Klatt’s closing song in your head?  Us, too.

Similarly, there’s silli iTunes appish, where your i.d. sticks to the silicon like the proverbial binary in the gold mine just a-picking at this link, take a byte:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #23

The first Show and Tell Gallery Productions Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art open mic at Three Friends Coffee House occurred at the appointed hour, vinyl enjoined and veneer observed from the outsetters, an oblong galaxy of stars and phalanx of attractive guests only in this place.   The numeric chorus line received, and them held ’twere in awe by the becoming Melissa Sillitoe, the stalwart and erudite David Matthews sharing some older stuff, the astounding and oft-termed “great” Rick J.

Presence lordly and dark was insisted upon, snide and choice with material, as the reminiscent Benjamin Fisher kept us on our guard, allowing briefly a showing of Melissa’s visual art, a newish written thing of temporarily reception, and more poetry, more espresso, more admiring onlookers from afar, among them your stumblng scribe and the newest S&T teammate – the mesmerized Nikia Cummings – both of us may take the future stage – and several who did shed earbuds and look up from the free and power Friends Three wi-fi to take it all in, squeaking and jingling doors book-ending the art parfait.

Oasis II in the Russian winter of our disconnect brightened by the Cheshire smile and cutting wit of  Chris Ridenour, a tremulous external wail chankered from the leg-irons of killer Mike “Cold Case” G, the joyous ceremony already spiked and inflated with classical rap, an impetuous card “trick,” an Iggy-worthy cry for love and an heart-shattering serenade by the self-contained and riveting Myrrh Larsen.  Blushing straight from work at check-it-out time, the radiant Starlite Motel, even.  Old love trumped new love and forth another Caffeine Monday event of majestic sound and vision and words issued.  It will happen again here knows when, it has been wisely and gratefully promised.

It seems, it is proved, they will faithfully come out on a night such as this… you’ll find the podcast on the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net.

Also, now you can access the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series podcast via iTunes using this link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

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