pooch posterous

About nine years ago, I had recently become proficient at African drumming, having played regularly for a year or so. I also discovered the most recent (at the time) trend in Jamaican reggae. I do have dreads. I'm not a Rasta. My dreads are more related to my devotion to Siva. Rastas and Shaivites do share some roots, but this is all beside the point. I've always had a big fondness for reggae, especially rub-a-dub style. What I discovered nine years ago was Dancehall, at the time, virtually unknown in the U.S. What it amounts to is that someone records some, "beats", and they get passed around to deejays or emcees, however you like to say it, and they rap over it in Jamaican Patois. I heard it, and really liked the fresh sound, and the crispness of the patois.

I'd leave drumming, with the rhythm we had played still rolling in my head, and set lyrics to them. It occurred to me that I could make a short record, put it here and there into the right hands, and maybe get a few bookings. I'd use a few of the solid drummers I drummed with, to back me up. It was such a fresh, and addictive sound, I knew the time was ripe for it, and people would eat it up. I had just met P.J., and knew he had a recording studio in his basement, so I asked if he would help me with this project. I played The people a couple of excerpts from my newly purchased Dancehall c.d.s, and they looked at me cock-eyed, mouths agape. They found the music reprehensible, but that was back in their Puritan days. P.J. agreed to help.

Not long after that, a big gust of tumultuous time swept me up, and deposited me roughly here today. I lived with the people for a number of years, and never embarked on this project. That may sound pathetic, but in fairness, I'm a meglo-maniac. I do alot of shit, and pine for what I can't. About a year ago, I borrowed P.J.s eight track recording thingy-mabob.
He's lent it to a lot of people who did nothing with it, and a lot who have began their careers with it. If he lends it to you, and you don't use it quickly, he takes it back, and it's very hard to get it again. About two years into the nine years it took me to get it together, Sean Paul blew up big in the mainstream with his dancehall stylings. Hell, even that Hasidic Jewish guy, Matisyahu blew up. Have you heard that, Matisyuhu? It was the final nail in the coffin of this dream. Dancehall is now old hat. Please enjoy my debut. This is my first original piece, it's all me on the instrumentation, and vocals

From: jeffrey puccini <shemekalikashenice@puccini-art.com>
Subject: First National Tower
To: "posty poster" <post@posterous.com>
Date: Sunday, June 21, 2009, 7:00 PM

My portion of the community mural is going much slower than I care for, in that it's not finished yet. No surprise there, my style of painting can be painfully slow. Factor in that it's beautiful Summer time, hard to want to be indoors, there's always so much to do. I don't have the undercoat completely done. I'm leaving some of that for Nikki to do. It's done in the upper-right, that's where I've begun to add  The First National Tower (Metropolitan Bank Tower)built in1929 located at 1 Federal Plaza West.

Who likes sour grapes? Not me. I’m usually the first one to poo poo sour grapes, based solely on principal. Are these sour grapes I offer? I don’t know, I guess I’m not sure how objective I can be about this.

I live in Youngstown, Ohio

As many know, prior to the late seventies, Youngstown was a flourishing steel town, well endowed with old money. In such a climate, art, and culture tend to thrive. When local American steel companies moved to Japan, it was the death of Youngstown. To make that statement locally, is sacrilege.  The people who remain either turn a blind eye, or try to have hope beyond reason. Youngstown currently has less than sixty percent of it’s densest population. It’s estimated that every third house in Youngstown is abandoned. The city of Youngstown caught national attention by making the unprecedented motion of abandoning whole neighborhoods, and sections of town, declaring them, “no longer a part of the city of Youngstown. In the year 2000, The city elders unveiled their, “Youngstown 2010” initiative, outlining the ten year path of recovery, and prosperity for our city. As time passed, that dream faded. Now that it’s 2009, no one really mentions, “Youngstown 2010.” Last I heard, it’s been reshaped into a directive to convert, “grayspace” to “greenspace”. That amounts to replacing abandoned buildings with trees. I guess that is a, “recovery” of the most basic sort.

Among those who would like to deny that they live in a ghost town, are those that cling to the notion that art is not dead in Youngstown. With the exception of The Butler Institute of American Art, art is indeed dead in Youngstown. The Butler is a true institution, in that it is a hold out from better times, and has managed to stand in these grim times.

Aside from The art gallery in The Butler, who is proven to be supportive of local artists, there is only one remaining art gallery. I’m not stupid. Times are tough in the best of places. This is one of the most impoverished places in the country. I know the market for selling art locally is small to nonexistent. Be that as it may, being an at least adequate local fine artist with a reasonable body of work, I felt it would be good, and worth while to try to schedule an exhibition at the only independent art gallery left. I’m not what most would consider an established artist, I’m self-taught, and lack credentials. I’ve always felt that credentials were only important to automatons, and lackeys. I think the proof is in the putting.  I put together a proposal for a solo exhibition as per the gallery’s guidelines and submitted it. I felt confident and certain that it was the first step towards a mutually rewarding alliance, and perhaps a statement, that amidst this desolation, hope springs eternal, and art can happen anywhere someone expresses it. I believed that the lofty whispers of those who say interest in Youngstown artists can be nurtured, could ring true.

“Thanks for entering your artwork for consideration, however the committee sees rarely an opportunity for a one artist exhibition”. That’s what the form letter said. I’m not really sure what that means aside from the obvious. Everyone rues rejection, but it’s more the implications of the rejection that I find troubling.

I have a general philosophy that can be summed up in a couple of my favorite quotes:

“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.”-Theodore Roosevelt.