Tuesday, June 2, 2009

World's Greatest Joust

This is what happens in Virginia.

Cutthroats Bike Club is what's up!

Monday, June 1, 2009

Camp Tipsy: July 25- Aug 2

From Chicken John explaining Camp Tipsy
I am looking for team mates.


"So you may have heard me or someone else talking about Camp Tipsy, and may want to know more about it or want to be invited. OK. Your now officially invited. It’s really fun. Funny. Stupid. It’s about embracing your commitment to leisure, while thumbing your nose at the leisure class. It’s a boat building contest. It’s a camping trip. It’s a fundraiser. And it’s really the best event I have ever thrown. It’s a little over 100 miles north of SF, in a little reservoir near the town of Ladoga. You come, and camp out. Car camping. You can bring a boat. Or not. We bring like 20. Row boats, canoes, paddle boats. Inflatables. We will likely build a small dock this year. There is a huge lake. You camp right by it. It’s gonna be super hot. The water is great to swim in. We have a common kitchen you can use with burners and grills and all that. We have enough tables so that 150 people can eat at once at 1 table.

But the fun part is the boat building contest. Did you know that you can build a “boat”? You can. There is a contest. You can win. How can you win a boat building contest if you have never built a boat before? Simple: the top prize is for the worst implementation of the worst design. So if you have ever felt like these fancy pants over-achiever types have been dominating the landscape in our community doing the alpha male one-upmanship crap… this is your chance to make ‘em all look like they’re trying too hard.

Lemme ‘splain… you can, and should, build a boat. Once in your life. How? Well it’s easier then you could possibly imagine. A truck inner tube is a boat. Sure it is. You won’t win the contest, but I’m just sayin’… you can do what Spy did last year and blow up some balloons and put them in milkcrates and flip ‘em upside down and paddle away with a broom. And it totally worked. Ms. Reecy inflated garbage bags with an air compressor and put a piece of plywood on ‘em. That didn’t work out as well, but it was funny and quite regal when she went down with her ship. Styrofoam offers like 25 lbs of ‘lift’ per 1 foot square. You can glue milk cartons closed and put them under traffic control signs and paddle away with flip flops. Old coolers. A dumpster. Wood has been disappointing in my career as an art guy: it’s doesn’t burn or float as much as you want it to… but it doesn’t sink. So with a little help it’s a good building device. But you can totally do it. People will be there to h elp, if you wanna come a few days early and put the finishing touches on. We bring a proper shop out there.

And we have a bunch of boats… you can borrow ‘em. We built a huge barge that we yuck around in as well. It’s a bar, made of drift wood. We’ve got giant clams. A bunch of paddleboats. And of course the hot tub boat. It’s an effort, but it’s worth it. If you never get to simply muck about with boats, you’ll love it. The lake is huge, but not so much that if the wind strands you on the wrong side you couldn’t walk back in an hour or 2. You can easily swim across it. Kids love it there. There are other boaters and campers, but they stay away from us. There are far less of them there on the weekdays.

I’ve been building propulsion systems for HUGE junk boat trips every summer. Camp Tipsy is the fundraiser for the junk boat project in the Adriatic Sea in Europe summer 2010. But don’t be confused: Camp Tipsy is a donation based event. The camping is free. You are under no obligation to pay. But if you’d like to see us continue to do boat stuff, you’ll be SUPER generous. If you come to Camp Tipsy for a few days and enjoy all boats and the entertainment and the food and stuff, you should kick in like $100 or more if you’ve got it. Or pay nothing, and use all the resources and you’ll have something to complain aobut in the future when I can’t do these things anymore because I don’t have the financial support. But in any case, there is nothing enforced. You can do whatever you want and no one will ever know. Last year 50 people paid for Camp Tipsy that didn’t even show up. So there ya go. The junk boat project this year cost $200,000. That’s what it takes to make mind-blowing in ternational cultural exchanges between artists. ALL art exchange programs were eliminated under the Bush administration after 9/11 when they made it impossible for people to come to the USA under an exchange visa not affiliated with an accredited educational institution. So, for example, when we tried to bring Thai puppeteers to Burning Man 4 years ago we failed. Spent thousands and still failed. Hundreds of hours and phone calls and 2 trips to the Thai embassy in Bangkok IN PERSON. Just for your 411. Art for all purposes indeed.

We go up to the campgrounds on the 23rd. The event is both weekends, July 25th and 26th, and August 1st and 2nd, and the week in between as well. The contest is on Auguest 1st at 4:00 in the afternoon. Thanks for reading, chicken."

The People's Bike Library of Greater Portland:

It is with a proud voice that I announce my return from Portlandia.
I was blessed enough to witness the ribbon cutting ceremony for the People's Bike Library of Portland. It all started when I flew in on the 29th, turned on my phone and it was 11:12.

The sun was warmer than the Austin heat I came from. We gathered in the parking lot of the Red Light, in the shade, then spilling out into the median of nutsack island.
There were people dressed as a bat, tiger, bunny, bird, duck, gator, bear, kitty, yeti, rhino, etc.
I could tell a few people put some major effort to finish new bikes or top coat the newest facelifts. The Duck brought a boomin sound system, and dBuny jacked his into the matrix for ultimate bang. Triple tall bikes and shoe-brake brakes. New choppers, Minis with golden pegs, chicks with tallbikes, longboarders, lowriders. Stencil Station for free commemorations.
As we all congregated on the empty pile, RACC (Reagional Arts and Culture Commision) said some thanks, and Shantastic and Handsome Dave spoke on behalf of Zoobomb through Captain Fun's notorious megaphone. Mayor Sam Adams stepped up to the platform and spoke about the horror of some of the earlier proposals, his satisfaction with the final one, and and appreciation for the bicycle advocacy that zoobomb insgtigates. He made the correlation of the urge for more enviornmentally suitable solutions, the health benefits, and the pure fun of bicycles.

Then, at the urge of the crowd, we counted down from 10 as is the custom at the top of the hill prior to zoobombing. He snipped it and the jungle roared.

Handsome Dave asked me to pass him the first bike to be placed on the pyle.
I pushed through the crowd and handed it forth, bowing in honor of the golden b(eye)cycle winking in the sun.
As I retreated to the crowd, my whole body was shaking. My hands were in disbelief. I paced in a circle and half-sigh/half-laughed and this darn smile was holding me so tight, I felt like the kiln was burning it into my clay, smile-shaped cheeks forever.
Prior to my arrival, my whole mantra has been:
"Go shake the Mayor's hand in front of the Zoobomb Sculpture."
In that state of ecstatic release and akward urge to cry I rushed up to the mayor too early, while he was talking to someone. I started something then stopped as I saw, but he must have sensed my thick soup of exceeded expectations and turned quickly to shake my hand and return to the conversation. I even stolidly studdered something and turned away disapointed in my lack of patience and nija-like awareness. What a great lesson.
People walked around, checked out the vault, secured the chain, and put the helmets and lights into the cave and locked the door.
Sprockettes took over the street while furry animals danced in the crosswalk as a shield. The pink lights in the night sweated hot in the sun and performed three songs with their first performance of the season.
As the sun sliced angles from the roofs, we danced and chatted and stenciled a new begining.

by gabriel amadeus

by gregraisman