Secret Still

I have a soft spot for Georgia artists, because I know how sweating your ass off in the Summer can make it hard to be creative; more than a decade in the Peach State taught me that valuable lesson. Monica Cook has clearly overcome that hurdle to produce amazing work that talks about sex, beauty, food, and the weird perceptions that we have of them. At least that’s what it says to me. I love the way she handles light in her pieces, or more accurately, I love the way she handles everything in her pieces, but especially the lighting. If you’re in the Atlanta area, which I know some of you are, you can see Cook’s solo show for a few more days at Marcia Wood Gallery. I’d recommend getting your ass down there before all the Thanksgiving nonsense drives everything else from your mind. Your eyes will thank you.

Monica Cook

What better way to comment on the inherent gluttony in American culture than to throw the crap we eat back in our faces? Pamela Michelle Johnson calls teach one an American Still Life, but she might as well just call them portraits. I’m pretty sure that the painting of the iced circus animal cookies is actually a painting of me. Except for the big stack of burgers (I don’t need more than one), I would destroy all of those foods. I have kind of a problem with sugar. And by problem I mean torrid love affair. Thanks for making me feel the guilt, Pamela; I really needed that.



Pamela Michelle Johnson

If you’ve been reading this website long enough, then you know how selective I am about photography. It takes a lot to impress me photographically, and generally a breadth of style and subject matter is required. So, you’ll understand how good Sabra Krock must be if I decide to feature her as a photographer, but not only a photographer, a niche photographer (that’s not an insult, I’m sure she’s equally amazing at shooting everything else, too). Krock creates some of the most beautiful imagery of food I’ve ever laid my pupils on. I mean damn, girl. I think my eyes and my stomach tried to climb their way out of my body simultaneously just to get closer to those photos. If you’ve ever wanted to know what kind of difference a real passion for subject matter can make in an artist’s work, then look no further. You can also read Krock’s blog for recipes of the various foods that she photographs. She has made my day.

Sabra Krock

Today’s bright idea is to use my stupid art blog to post about things that aren’t related to art. If anyone other than my mom read this bullshit it would probably matter. Sorry, mom. I didn’t mean to say bullshit in front of you. I’ll try to keep the swearing to a minimum. This won’t make much sense to you, mom, because you’ve never read Big Brother magazine, but back in the day it was the king shit of skateboard fuck mountain. You couldn’t go two sentences without reading about dicks, how so-and-so had touched whathisname’s dick on tour, who got dick-rot, and how much of a dick everyone was. It was a magazine that, given enough time, would’ve just had an issue devoted to lighting shit on fire in various majestic settings. Here’s some of my shit on fire in the Alps. And there it is burning away in front of Versailles. Dave Carnie, the mad fucking genius behind Big Brother has done a lot of things since the mag went down the craphole. And now apparently he writes about food. With his wife. This is the equivalent of having a job sitting inside a giant bag full of pussies and getting wailed on by retards with baseball bats. When you’re washing off all the blood and snatch juice after work you can pretty much see your masculinity going down the drain with it. And somehow Carnie manages to do a great job with Food on Drunk. He’s figured out a way to write about food like he was writing for Big Brother. In a world where people actually pay someone to make decisions about what they should drink, Dave and Tania Carnie are probably the only ones not having to chew around cocks in their mouths. That’s the best compliment I can come up with for food writing. I’m gonna read Food on Drunk everyday.*

Food on Drunk

*This post is dedicated to Dave Carnie, who taught me that I could use the word shit as much as I wanted, and to my mom, who would probably never talk to me again if she knew I had written the phrase “a giant bag full of pussies”.

Jason Mecier creates portraits of people, mostly celebrities, out of crap around the house. And surprisingly there is a lot of nuance to his work. It’s odd to be hungry and intellectually interested in the same object, though.

Jason Mecier