The "dig" and the mural are two projects that are entirely in opposition but with the same end in mind. Each is a kinetic call and response object. One calls to the environment, in particular to a segment of its inhabitants in a very conventional manner using the vernacular perceived by the signs and conditions encountered, while the other is in effect to communicate through entirely non-verbal means. The mural works within an an established set of grammatical rules and social etiquette.I initially intended to "work with" the existing art and writing on the space, but soon discovered that my voice was to big , active and dominant. What ensued was a stretching out and staking my claim which is entirely within the protocol of hip hop/graffiti culture. It is an open cultural critique with persistence and staying power to criticism as a measure of strength. It is this aspect the the project, the burying of the ego which is most intriguing. The operation of bombing an area with a personal sign is one of free expression ensconced self-promotion. The writers ego is only as large as the geographical range, boldness and available supplies. This preoccupation with space is at the heart of this project.I have established my geo-political map and have entered the space with the intent to appropriate, occupy,redistribute and redesign the area to a preconceived vision as to how this specific area should be managed. As a common space, claim to use is open to interpretation.I entered the area as an objective observer. I let the space speak to me as much as any painter would look at a blank canvas. My initial marks were intimate, innocuous, the propping of a fallen branch on a tree trunk. Soon I was taken broken branches and making a series of gates and fences. These pieces were so quietly integrated into the landscape that they slipped detection by most people, though is was interesting that people did seem to naturally conform to these delicate barriers. As soon as I started to enter objects alien to the environment was when a dialogue began to develop between an unknown individual or group of individuals. The first encountered occurred immediately after installing the "beast" (see earlier post). Within a week of its installation it was viciously attacked, turned on its side with a chunk of concrete that it was anchored to slammed into the body. On three subsequent attacks the legs were broken and once the rope that attached to the concrete anchor had been cut with a knife. Each attack I returned the creature to its original position. It was here that I recognized that the pieces were doing something far more than could ever do in the sterile environment of a gallery. They were provoking a real conversation that was far more profound than any academic discourse. There was something raw and dangerous about what was happening. The mystery is intoxicating. It fuels curiosity. The conversation between artist and audience is real and unrestrained. I had confined myself to a very select area, but after these encounters I began to expand my explorations to other pockets of the park, provoked by animosity at the thought that someone was fencing me out. In other words, "they" had provoked a turf war. My inspections and observations made it evident who my audience was and I secured possible sites hat might engaged the highest percentage of contact. The first site chosen was a 25'-30x 100' concrete foundational slab that has been the canvas of areas taggers. The second site was a shielded blind in a clump of brush and under the umbrella of a group of pepper trees. This site is primarily used as a pot smoking beer drinking natural lounge for locals noted by the spray painted tags on discarded concrete piers and trees that act as seats, resembling an native American meeting area.

This project is about an idea. Better said it is about the potential of an idea. In my estimation the shortcoming of traditional artmaking is that the idea is trapped within the work. It is only through externalization that the original idea can be remotely accessed. As Barthes suggests, a photographer can never be truly experienced by the viewer. The viewer is a latercommer to the experience, the primary experience. It is in the maker where the true depth of the photograph has any meaning. The aesthetic experience is a mono-experiential event. The further you are from the center of that sensation the more necessary is it for the viewer to manufacture a diluted and artifical response.

This work, the dig in particular, is an attempt to expose the inner workings of an art piece. The audience is subject to the generation of the work and there is the possibility to witness the act in progress, question the artist in the moment, and participate in what becomes a real dialogue. There is no dialogue in a gallery. A gallery is a mortuary where the body is presented on a cold slab.

This is the view loking south at the north access slope to the dig site. For years this has clearly been the access point for most people to the area that I am now digging. During and after the rain this slope because of the slippery clay makeup of the soil is virtually impassable. Though only 3 feet from base to crest when moistened it posed a serious barrier. From this view,about middle center is visible presently the highest point of the interior wall I have constructed.From base to crest the wall is approximately 5 feet with about a girth of five feet. As of Tuesday 4 12 2011, I began digging into the access slope cutting into the incline at a vertical and implying a wall at it base by piling the dirt in its path.

Locals emerging from their blind.The site , I am imagining is a focal point for many people in the area who share this space for the same purpose. Smoking and drinking. It is a mutually conceived sanctuary, an "open" space, secluded from all intrusion. This group illusion (test group A) is thin and ludicrous, because they are easily viewed from any direction. The illusion is supported by the voluntary blindness of all other users of the park (test group B). Group A is the smaller of the two groups, but is by far the most destructive. They regularly set open fires, litter and destroy vegetation and have set large section of the park on fire. I see myself as the unknown variable (UV).How will my intrusions affect the interactions and perceptions of this figmental open space. It is obvious that my diggings create the most active and aggressive responses. The reasons may be twofold:1) the digging is a direct alteration of what is wrongly recognized as private property and; 2) it is a baffling reconfiguring without apparent reason.

In other words, UV is absolutely irrational and unreasonable and therefore viewed as a completely indefensible act and must be regarded as hostile! We all know that UV 's are bad for sensitive skin.

The figure above and below is of a grafed female nude. To see it in its original state you need to go back to earlier posts. It is a very crudely spray can figure in a contorted posture, denuded of personality mutilated arms and legs. It has a large erect phallus penetrating her from below. It is obvious that there are two artists at work. The original figure was drawn in green can and later on the detail ti the spine hip breast and penis were done in black. I perceive the two acts are ritualistic. It is such a lonely figure in all the chaos on the concrete it has this gargantuan quality that figures into its power. Of all the piece this one had been here for quite some time evident by the age and wear of the paint it somehow evaded being painted over. I found this intriguing. Why does this piece seemed to special place on the slab? Call me crazy but I believe that this figure has a definite function. This everywoman serves a purpose to a particular group of individuals. How do I know this? Simple. Observation. I stood in the brushes one afternoon observing a group of men gathered around her. I thought I might be hallucinating but before my very eyes each man, not boys, began to thrust there groins at her. It was the most bizarre scene. Three grown men thrusting and dry-fucking this image of a woman. It was as laughable as it was sad. They laughed amongst themselves and left. There was the function. There was the ritual. The most rudimentary act. On one level art was playing out in its purest form. I can't imagine anyone going to a museum and becoming so overwhelmed by the texture of a Modigliani and whipping it out or dry humping a Renoir, wrestled to the ground in a spasm of aesthetic euphoria.Faintly you can make out the sharpie marker image of La Nuestra De La Senora De Guadalupe. I drew this over the the female figure. I thought it an appropriate response to the image and its function. This dichotomy toward the female figure, once reverend and reviled, mother and whore entwined, the intention was to create tension in the conversation between the image, users and the space. The space's "sacredness" has been violated. I intend to finish up my figure, but leave enough of the original to filter through. Unfortunately, the randomness of this project does not allow me to do protracted observations from any one location, but I do wish I could observe the first encounter after the additions.

"The Three Skaters of the Apocalypse" is a piece I started after discovering that the surface of the slab was used by skaters and bmxers. It was a sort of consolation to the fact that I was an intruder an needed to recognize that. The skaters, two male and one female, was created in a hope of generating a response from this particular users of the park. All the participants/collaborators are of a specific group of the population. They are in general, young, for the most part , other than white and working class, I think it would be safe to say. After all I did grow up in this neighborhood and the area has not changed that much in respects to socio-economics.

The t-shirts and skateboards on the images are taken from tags in the area, so I singled out Soar and zero originally. I added Spark after he/she tagged over one of the pieces . I simple gesture at an attempt of respect. The next day I returned and Spark had tagged alongside the image. In applying Spark's name I kept true as possible to his letter style.I liked that style of lettering. It was very familiar growing up in Logan Heights, it had a clarity and power to it.

These figures have been worked in oil stick, sharpie markers, house paint for base coats and Montana cans. This piece is at its early stage. There is much more layering and detail along with poly protective coats to apply.

Around each image you can make out a faint design inscribed. It is a dashed and dot design that references the demarcation of national boundaries such as seen on geo-poltical maps.The relationship of boundaries on the grand scale are reflected at the site where the common concern and familial ties are mapped out clearly in the graffiti signatures that clutter the area. Each group or individual carves out there piece of the part and a call and response occurs with proximity tags or cross-outs by rivals or intruders. The markings, the dot and dashes are reminiscent of a Mayan motif or numerical markings. This is purely coincidental and probably only in my head but worth mentioning as meaning's design relieves itself in the doing. In actuality what the dashes and dots are is Morse Code that is signaling out the international distress call,SOS. I felt, in light of the current state of international and domestic affairs is was a fitting decorative element.

This guy is an original resident that I lifted as my own. I borrowed as a whole added the hat, transformed the dick in hand, redrew it as a gun, added a sheriff's star, stuck a flag in the barrel with my crew's tag...wipc.

I am treating the slab as a sketchbook. It is less a work with some endgame in conventional aesthetic. This is not a cop-out. It is in keeping with the aesthetic that exist. There is an ongoing communique evolving at the site, and I am a latecomer, however a very vociferous and ever expanding presence. I know this. And in some ways I find it hard to control the desire to sweep over the whole the the entire space, slabs, discarded broken concrete chunks, branches, dirt and possess it as my own. There are so many voices competing for this small piece of turf. The fact that I am being allowed, given permission to pursue my voice is humbling but intoxicating.I have the conqueror's blood coursing through my veins.It is difficult to halt my advance, to even take stock of my inevitable contradiction, but I continue against the better angels of my nature and press deeper into this virgin space.

In memory of Vanessa

This is for our beloved Vanessa. A beautiful child, daughter, sister,mother and niece. She will be so dearly missed by all. She was a generous human being that greeted you with open arms that was genuine and real. I will very much miss hearing "Uncle Ron!" issue through the room.Auntie Kathy and Uncle Ron have always loved you and always will.