two days left

How many times have I underlined here on Husk how much I loathe this month? Ever the whinning asshole. Husk is a shell, by the way and Essem is a ***. Odd titles. I never wanted to work under my own name; an alias such as descendo sounds more intriguing to me -- you can be anyone you want, anyone but me. Unconventional / backwards, that's what Descendo means to me (other than that Getz/Gilberto song). And obviously, it starts with a "d" and that's personal. There was a huge garden here, it is now a cold condo building (with galleries that have private view of my bedroom). They're in for a show... I've endured months and months of construction noises (not to mention constant phone/internet line damages) while slowly loosing the view and maybe a small part of myself. It could be a really clichéd analogy where i have to look «forward» from now on -- though what I've discovered in that direction since then has been a bar. Not unlike shifting gears I guess. The quote of the week is «should I ignore the fashion or go buy the book» ... I'm sure that much is familiar. Anyway, you'll be able to spot the difference on pygmalion [ref: Photo :02 second week of January 2005] once their job is done. It must mean something...

apperçu «la nuit rouge» [descendo prints 04]

traitement absolument safe sur photos d'archives familialles circa: 1950, manipulation à la main, imprimés séries de 4, noir et blanc, 35" x 50" -- perdu sur immense masse noir. RÉSISTER D'EN AJOUTER. Pour en savoir plus : La Nuit Rouge : Le feu de Rimouski

An eventual phone call today. I gave my word -- I'll call you. I've been dreading this day for a long time now... It'll take me back, it'll hurt. I gave my word, I'll call you.

teasing albeit only slightly erotic

I always figured this was a nice way to tease some new music, in this case le soir by Pascal Shefteshy and myself -- some really blatant electro/downtempo we're working on, needless to say it'll feature my signature exhausted vocals... be teased : www.le-soir.com

sans soucis et juste pour moi

For several months now I've been juggling different concepts for the third series of descendo prints and I may have just hit the nail on the head. I'm still at the beginning stages of conception, I wouldn't want to jinx myself at this point but I've figured out how to make a tangent between two different intentions/results. All this probably due to a «deadline-free» (stress-free) week. One that I've been longing for for a very long time now. I have to state that I don't excel primarily in any form of artistic expression whatsoever. This is what makes it all the more complicated -- though I do make a living with design+art direction in the music industry (because I know the industry like the back of my hand). This doesn't mean that I'm necessarily a design freak -- I'd go for a creative freak and leave it at that. This is how my mind works, I'm not at ease when I'm not being constructive. Every spare second goes into some side project or another -- ie: le soir for example... one of many. I can't compare with people who's lives revolve solely around one aspect of artistic the many endeavors... I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, far from it, by doing so they will acheive a hightened sense of their craft -- I probably never will. The second series I came up with last year, «Whistler Scars», sure as hell didn't reinvent the wheel -- nor were they nominated for shit -- nor did I submit them to any contest -- but they did sell (a bit, just enough to know that my art is hanging on walls around the globe), and they meant the world to me at that point of my life, every subtle corner of both pieces contains some "secret" or some "hint" about what turned D into W and so forth. It's what I've dubbed safe art. You'll have to sit down and read this phrase very carefully now, because, you don't read it often enough -- it's the kind of art that I enjoy. Nothing else should matter. It's not even a question of tastes -- we can all go back and compare the influences; Dave Johnson is the new Warhol (but Kirby came before him), The Beatles changed the world but they too had influences... that shouldn't matter -- the end result is my struggle, in this case it's : it's the kind of art that I enjoy. Nothing else should matter.

Never fall in love with a bar -- Dave Sim states this twice in his introduction to Cerebus Volume 11 "Guys". This volume came out in 1997 but I've just recently picked up the 16 volume series (30 years in the making) but I was in a bar when I started reading this volume -- on a sunny afternoon in June at the Baracca on Mont-Royal and that gave me quite a smile. I assumed at that point that I was "in love" with that bar. By myself, just savoring the coincidences. It was later though that I would really fall in love with a bar -- our perfect hang out, far from this city's distractions -- right here in my neck of the woods of Little Italy; the zeebra bar. The staff, the ambiance, the clientèle, the music, the interior design... right in the middle of nowhere, absolutely charming and comfortable. I've become a true regular. I always found something very appealing about bar stools/counters not unlike an old crooner with a glass of scotch wrapped in a deadly italian suit. As much as I try to take heed to Sim's warning about bars, I find that this discovery has become a blessing. We can fear the obvious, I'm only a drink away after all. Autumn & winter's upon us... perfect seasons for me to see if this is more of blessing in disguise.

the less I know

I've been very lucky so far this year (knock on wood, tap three times on my heart) ; I'm not « in the know », nothing's been hinted at me whatsoever and I'm very thankful (I'm fairly certain that I could know if I wanted to). So I can stick to my own assumptions and the more time passes, the less the surprise will hit me. I was hesitant on writting this down, this is just an emphesis on my luck 'cause I've been known rarely to hear things... I tend to see them. Emphesis on them. Which is worse obviously. A few more months to go, I knew 2005 would be sans-trauma, or much less of it. Keeping my fingers crossed for it all to be as is for the remainder of the year. On the plus side, I never hid from it -- I was out there vulnerable to the truth as vulnerable as I made myself to last year's "truths". We'll see what 2006 has in store for us -- not that it's anybody's business anyway.

ring twice

This corner, an obvious place of refuge -- with time; souvenir-less (needs lots more time). Though it occured to me last night that it's been over a year now and I still end up on "my" side of the bed. Even after all this time. That's not romantic, that's idiotic.

temper temper

Postponed a lot these past weeks, work-wise and a failed vacation. It has to be in September 'cause it had to be two weeks ago -- too many spinning plates but way too much baggage. That's not ethical. Making hundreds of lists to set my mind straight, try to prioritize some and juggle the others. For every solution possible, there is a hard task to undertake and I can admit that I feel effortless -- it's a vicious circle. Concequences of a vengful summer.

vo [le soir]

a line-up is arousing I'll admit but I'm not at fault here
it's what therapists long for
until a dancer's clarified intent reveals that he means harm
second floor on the same night
same precious nightlife scar
pop the pills and leave / so long
terrifying cheating stares and superficial love
eccentric martyrs' affair gone wrong
impressive yet foreign / so long

it's august

It's very easy for August to be a let down, especially here, it's the start of a very long and harsh autumn/winter season. Autumn can be soothing but that depends, to me Autumn's always been more of lover's season... Many of us have short fuses -- can't blame them, I have one too. Like both ends of the candle are dangerously close. August has this effect on everyone I know. Nothing seems satisfactory at all.

Montreal [01]

[01] La ville de Montréal est comme un jardin. Un jardin riche et fascinant qui se développe différament sous de températures instables pour mieux camouffler ses secrets / sa fausse perfection. Un milion de chemins qui en thérorie aboutissent au même endroit. Un nid fertile d'art et de politique. La branche qui tient le nid n'a qu'un tout petit pied d'estal. Le soleil de Montréal c'est l'alcool. On dit de Montréal que c'est le « LosAngeles du Canada » ... j'ai passé du temps à LosAngeles -- la réception était meilleure. Sous les roches (les vielles roches) d'un jardin se cache des insectes, des déchets -- des éléments essentiels au développement du jardin mais dont une norme esthétique les empêchent d'être vues. Le jardin qui est Montréal contient énormement de roches.

an afternoon on coffee and cigarettes

No visitors -- hardly ever. Everyone has some stories to tell, while mine are certainly targetting some specific areas (perhaps even individuals) the beauty of the 'net makes me/this blog annonymous and safe. Just a few hours to go and we're done here, an immense financial scare but we always manage. We try to. Hunting down who owes and what. Though I won't hide from those I owe to, but that's part of my profession as a juggler.