TMi

<p><a href="http://davemagario.bandcamp.com/album/if-love-was">If love was... by Dave Magario</a></p>

They shut it down in 2009. They killed it in 2012.

This is the story of the East Village. The OTHER East Village. As taken from  The historical and architectural survey of Webster, Massachusetts - Researched and written by staff of the Webster Historical Commission:  Linda L.B. Kleinerman, Director.  Mary R. Davidson, Research Assistant.  Richard W. Dery, Research Analyst {1978 only} THE EAST VILLAGE The crossroad near the head of Webster lake known as "The East Village" is an area of historical and possibly prehistoric significance. Prior to being built up as two country roads, the crossroads may have been an intersection of old Indian trails. The Bay Path, Great Trail, and Mohegan paths converged nearby. These trails were probably among the routes used by the colonists as they gradually spread West. According to an article published in 1889 in the "Webster Times", during the mid-1700s, people living in this vicinity, and "south upward of 50 to 75 miles," went to Worcester and Boston to trade

http://aopublic.com/blog/2012/04/recap-hugo-crosthwaite-luis-de-jesus-gallery/  

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/ 71654024/ gcvyt%20edit%20480x270.mov  

Like, duuh, I totally neeeeded to go shopping!  OMGeEZ. No. After nine months of working out of a work/live studio in Baja California, my  Human had his first solo show in L.A. at Luis De Jesus  -in case you have been out out of the loop. And I chose this momentous occasion in my Human's life over the the art occasions in the lives of other humans. That's just the way it goes when you are in love... I was there to see the installation process finish and do little things here and there to help out. Mostly, it was stay low and not be a fuss. There was enough to do in preparation for the opening and I didn't want to get underfoot so I hid out in the front office most of the time doing what work I could for folks back in NY.  The opening turned out to be an all day event! No sleeping in for me! Because of transportation matters, In the morning there was a buffet brunch for collectors before the public opening. To amuse myself, I tried to take interesting s

See the full gallery on Posterous

While at an Office Depot this drippy morning picking up supplies with gallery owner Luis De Jesus, Hugo and I daydreamed the future of painting without paint: The idea was that there would be a "smart" primer gesso substance which could be applied to any surface. It would be inert (no currents running through it) until it's programmer/painter touched the surface with finger/hand/body part. Only then would the surface activate- change of color would appear. The programmer would have their own unique palette of colors and would be the only one able to make any mark on the "smart" primer. The person would be the source of energy and would provide the other half of a code string (or something like this) which would activate the desired colors. How would the colors be differentiated? Pressure and heat senses are the obvious ones, but what if the paint was smart enough to recognize the  hormonal difference between the the artist on a good day versus a bad day or

the cancerous morning air BQE traffic destroys me at a cellular level every morning - five days out of the week and when i come home from office places i  feel murder brewing hard behind the bones of my face turning to a sick jade death mask i dont want to breathe i am tired of cigarette smoke pouring out of the lips of children in a city over-run with combustion engines i dont want to breathe cigarette smoke unless your breath is mixed with it what are all these pretty little darlings to you? i am tired of them and i turn away from their laughter their cycles deflect me to quieter roads no desire is in me to join them the pollution of sorrow is layered on me because you are not walking beside me why should i keep the tangles from my hair and the red spots from my face? there is no bourbon bottle thoughts to make light of the daily chores besieging me i do not want to breathe but sighs come often

why is there so much animosity toward those of grammatical incompetence? your instinct to shout the correction in their faces well proves that you are educated enough to see the mistakes, however, it also makes shamefully evident that you are a tactless, snarky, prick that never reached the levels of true, higher education where one learns compassion and humility- that thing we have the nerve to call humanity. bashing other with comments of annoyance, thinly-veiled does little to ease their 'dire' ignorance. you shame bullies, you do not shame child-minds that need to grow.