Future of Forestry: Twilight

Sitting in my dad's "home" office. Exactly how you would picture it. Corner configured, tri-tiered, plywood executive desk. Complete with cantilevered roll out keyboard platform. Trash-picked office chair, believe it or not, that is still in almost flawless condition. When I grabbed it from the trash the bolts on the chair had snapped. I just removed the old bolts and installed new ones. Bam. Gently used leather office chair. I think I cleaned it with leather cleaner to bring out that near mirror shine in the leather. It's cheap leather. But it's leather. His office is an odd wonderland of old bookcases, a rollout folder cabinet, and stacked boxes. I feel oddly comforted here. Almost like this is a small part of the earth that my dad can have complete control over. Sometimes I think he feels like the earth is closing in on him and can't control anything. But an engineer is born an engineer. He's like a character from the old t.v. series Star Trek called Mr. Spock. His brain is completely logical. Extremely analytical even when he jokes. That's why most don't get his dry, dry sense of humor. This place I sit reminds me of simpler times. It reminds me of why my parents moved to Ohio. They had seen an utterly liberal society and wanted to raise their children in a conservative one. I'm not sure why the decision was made to move to a place in between the rust and the bible belt. I like to call it the 'rusty-bible'. Where people don't change their opinions unless they're forced too. We learned how to be good baptists. We went to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday night. Sometimes my parents held bible study every morning. Expecting their children to absorb such ubiquitous amounts of philosophical material at a young age. Of course during this time my parents called on abolition of misbehavior, poor etiquette, alcohol or addicting substances whatsoever. It wasn't a complete prison. We were allowed at the time to listen to any christian rock music we desired. Terribly exciting stuff. But through that I fell in love with music. I wanted to get my hands on it as much as possible. And it wasn't until I hit puberty that I decided to listen to musicians that weren't christian. I remember the first album I bought with my own money was 'nevermind' by 'nirvana'. The album cover of a naked baby swimming after a dollar bill on a string. It wasn't exactly what fit into my parents ideal of what an evangelical child should do. But I listened anyways. I listened to whatever I could get my hands on. But the bands of my post-pubesant days were not as endearing as the bands that I listened to when I was 13. Future of Forestry reminds me of when I was 13 years old. The smooth melodies and solid bass grooves reek of classic rock. Throw in a bit of atmosphere and space and you've built a band like Future of Forestry. Thick and spacey vocals soaked in reverb. The vocals match the guitar riffs rolling over each other. The riffs are eighth notes while the vocals are fourth notes. The production of this album is focused on the riding bass and the in-tune vocals. Forestry wants 360 degrees of sound so when the main bass line returns you get gently pulled back to why you like their songs in the first place. Catchy tunes that would be great on a road trip or in a place where you want to relax your mind. Endearing to say the least. On my third spin I knew I would be listening to this band again. In spite of the fact it reminds me of a childhood without a sense indulgence. Check 'em out. John Daniels seems to like them.

JG

Head Space: "6.5 billion gains of sand"

This was a show of instillation that I did in October. The idea for the instillation started while I was in Denver this past summer. I was laying on a hammock in my aunt's backyard soaking in the sun. For some strange reason while I was drifting in and out of lucidity I felt very isolated. I felt very small in the world. I wondered if it had to do with my surroundings. The massive expanse of blue sky in Colorado or the front range of the Rockies which loomed over head. Perhaps the space in-between these objects is what made me feel so little in such a big place. The relation of and size of these objects is what is so indescribable. This consciousness lead me to another line of thinking. I realized I was anything but alone. I thought about the massive amount of humanity that exists on the face of the earth. 6.5 billion was the last number I had been quoted. And even though I couldn't hear or see another person I still felt an overwhelming weight of presence. It was an odd dicotomy. Completely alone yet completely surround at the same time. This duality is what led to the creation of my piece in "headspace". The show of instillation took place in October of this year. Through many iterations of what the piece could look like I decided to use sand. The first idea was to use dots of ink on paper but the shear amount of ink and paper needed to produce 6.5 billion dots would cost somewhere near $25,000. I should have guessed even before I did the calculation seeing that printer ink is the most expensive liquid in the world. It was great to have chemical engineer with 30 years of experience making calculations and a Doctor of physics at my disposal at the time to brainstorm ideas. Most of the time I was told the ideas were too impractical or expensive. My sister was the one to suggest sand as my medium. And as I had help making the calculation I came to the conclusion that I would only need around 3/4 of a ton of sand to produce an approximation of 6.5 billion grains. And fortunately for me the cost of "playground sand" is quite cheap. It was however another story trying to put that much sand in a room that was about 20'x20' three floors up. But as I brainstormed with my classmates they suggested that putting sand in a room wasn't enough. I needed to explain the dichotomy. I decided that casting myself in plaster representing the loneliness might capture the concept. I used dental alginate to make finely detailed molds and traditional plaster to cast the molds. I made casts of my face, hands, feet, and belly. And I placed these molds in the sand in such a way that it appeared as though I was floating in the sea of sand. Each grain representing a person on earth and the casts representing myself. In the end people attending the show entered the room and moved the casts. This was an element that I had no control over. I was fairly indifferent to this happening because it meant that there was an element of interaction with the instillation. Originally I intended that no one enter the which is why I place a piece of clear plexi-glass in front of the instillation in the door jam. When all was said and done I felt that I had executed my concept to its fullest potential with the limitations that I had. Of course I would change things if I had to do all over again. But in life nothing is perfect and I try to embrace imperfection as much as I can. Because imperfection can be quite beautiful. And it is after-all part of the human condition. And I was happy because I had some kind of visualization of what humanity.

JG

Credits for the photos go to Mr. Mark Byron photographer extraordinaire. Check out his website and for goodness sake contact him if you need some photo work done. Apparently it's in his blood. http://www.byronphoto.com/

Credit for the creation of the flyer for the show goes to Mr. Matt Lynch professor extraordinaire. Read about some of the connections Matt has here http://www.soapboxmedia.com/features/0406collectives.aspx. And google him for goodness sake.

MGMT: ocular spectacular

Just finally downloaded this album. If you're not into this group then you're not into modern music. Or should I say the "age of the digital" (which is what I like to call it). Post-post Modern if you will. The age where music just keeps regurgitating itself over and over. It's some kind of evolution. Something about mashing everything together and then trying to separate out the good sounds in your head. You have to work harder than ever to hear something to thing to latch onto. Some musical rhythm to ride on. Music in 2010 is much more complicated than the music of yesteryear. But somehow it seems oversimplified. Maybe its the way that pop music no longer feels the need to adhear to the accepted rules of structure and composition. Perhaps the fact where the "hook" is king (or queen depending on who you are...). I always feel like I am indulging when I listen to groups like MGMT. Like it's a guilty pleasure that is accepted by the masses. Don't get me wrong the album is fantastc but my roots are Elvis, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Johnny Cash. Unadulterated pop music. Music that was so easy to listen to that by the next spin you had all the lyrics and the melody memorized. Things have changed and I think for the better despite the nostalgia I have for clean pop. Vocals are much more un-assuming than before. Down and dirty. You just simply don't have to sing as well as you used to. It's not a prerequisite. You just have to have a message and be melodic at the same time. I would say that Dylan was the first to do so but his music follows the rules of folk. There are now a new set of rules for pop music. It's much more about a feeling than an intellectual mind teaser. Music is now meant for mass consumption no matter at what level you create. If you are conscious of your purpose than the music you create will be essentially good. And consumers prize quality and intellectual foreplay before anything else in this day and age.
J.G.

Release Agent: "Home Made Machine-gun"

So for those of you who didn't make it out to the show (I know the opening's hours were quite odd...) here is a shot of my sculpture taken with my mobile phone. The work is made solely of steal with a working two way hinge. It moves across two axises. I echoed the size and shape of .50 caliber browning machine-gun. Used heavily by our military and military contractors. It is also in use by the secret service in the President's motorcade. The idea for the sculpture stemmed from several conversations I've had with my brother over the last year. My brother is the only person I spend any real time talking to on the phone. Being four hours away it seems as though there is always some catching up to do. But we always spend at least a few minutes conceptualizing or brain storming about one thing or another. During these conversations the idea of government came up. We talked about everything from apocalyptic scenarios to upheavals. One of the comments my brother made sparked a vision in my mind's eye. He thought that if the United States Government were to declared Martial Law that a militia wouldn't stand a chance because of the advanced weaponry the U.S. Army controls, ergo, negating the second amendment. We both concluded that any militia would have to be able to create a large amount advanced weaponry within a small time frame to enact the second amendment to its fullest potential. Not that I would condone such a militia, nor do I care, but the idea of not being able to control one's government is a scary prospect to any citizen. So this was my attempt to represent that idea or at least its iteration. I can certainly replicate the size and shape of a .50 caliber and use the same materials. But can I actually create a weapon with such fire power that it would injure enough people to control an entire army? I don't know. And personally I don't really want to find out.

Man on the Moon 2: Legend of Mr. Rager

Creating music is an all-encompassing process from start to finish. From the initial concept to the final mixing and mastering every element is considered. And if any of those elements are neglected it becomes glaringly obvious. Kid Cudi's sophomore album seems to lack none of the components that it takes to build a beautiful musical landscape. Hip Hop has always been heavily based on lyrical content that reflected current events and social conditions. But Mr. Cudi takes traditional Hip Hop to a whole new level by not only adding clever rhymes and lyrical content but also adding solid melodies, beautiful driving instrumentals, and a compelling story line. His collaborations for all intents and purposes are flawless and innovative. Heavy hitters like Mary J. Blige, Chip tha Ripper, Kanye West, Ratatat, Cee-lo, Cage, St. Vincent, GLC, and Nicole Wray are the featured artists. Cudi gets some help on the production end from Kanye West, No I.D., the Neptunes, Ratatat, and Jim Jonsin. From start to finish the album is a head banger. The Achilles heal of the LP is the striking similarity to the first album. It is however aptly named “Man on the Moon 2: Legend of Mr. Rager” and lives up to it’s name. So upon first spin the album might seem a little redundant. But the about a quarter of a way through the second listen the album comes alive. Tracks like “Mojo so Dope” and “Lost in the Mood” offering commentaries about consumerism and drug culture. Cudi’s rhyme scheme, subject matter, and style along with his mixture of genres are what make the album. The ebb and flow of the album doesn’t give any credence to a specific style or genre which revolutionizes rap music all together. Kid Cudi is opening the door to a world never before discovered in music with his honest exploration of himself and his reality.

Coming Home

I've been lucky. My parents had the spare time, money, and wherewithal to instill a sense of adventure in me as a child. I've heard the crash of the waves on the beaches of both shining seas. I've seen the sun rise over purple mountains’ majesty. And I've smelt the amber waves of grain on the fruited plains. I am thankful for so many of the things my parents have done for me but dragging me around the country in a white Ford Aerostar is at the top of the list. I have so many stories to tell of my travels. From the time I was an arm’s length away from a wild bear in the Mammoth Mountains of California to the time a Ukrainian from Kherson told me he didn't know Americans could work hard until I helped him remodel his house. But the piece of travel that I usually don’t talk about is coming home. Payne put it this way, “Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home…” in his 1823 opera. And the phrase has resonated with the world ever since. It has adorned many American’s mantle in one form or another on an engraved placard or a piece of stained pine with calligraphy and painted flowers around the borders. I always found this phrase pedantic and contrived. Maybe it has to do with the seemingly disingenuous admiration of the phrase or that I hated coming home to Cincinnati. Either way I didn’t gain a full understanding of the saying until I had been away from home for three months. I spent the summer staying at my Aunt’s house and working at a gallery in Denver; one of the greatest experiences of my life. But let’s be honest Ohio sucks compared to Colorado in every sense of the word. It can’t compare on many levels. But what I couldn’t believe was the sense of affinity that I felt when I on my return trip from Denver. I drove straight through Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio in 19 hours. And despite the ludicrous nature of this feat I had an overwhelming desire to be home. I am a person of the opinion that life shouldn’t be comfortable. That living with “creature comforts” is something that humanity has invented to “make life easier” but has in fact been quite a detriment to society. In so many ways our society has been at a disservice because we are so affluent and provide ourselves with ways to disconnect; at least in America. But I did desire the comforts that I am so used to at home: my things, my dog, my girlfriend, and most of all my bed. There is just something about sleeping in your own bed that is so comforting. It’s a womb-like experience I guess and there is no place else where you will feel more rested. I desired all these things and more when I came home but what I wanted more was the comfort of being in the city where I knew all the streets, where I knew I could let my guard down instead of being on alert 24 hours a day, and where I knew how to talk to the people that lived here and feel as though I was being understood. The similarities in Denver are only on the surface. And one might think there isn’t much difference between our two cities. Beyond the obvious similarities the differences lie in the culture, the class structure, and the lifestyles. It’s very interesting as an outsider to observe people who live and operate under different ideals. It’s the little things that are so captivating like idioms, mannerisms, and physicality of the people. These have been the themes that I have paid attention to throughout my travels and it is what marks the difference between our cultures in my mind. And it’s what makes coming home so fun. You don’t feel like an outsider. But these differences along with our similarities are what help a person gain an understanding of humanity. It reminds me of the changing of the seasons. As humans the only true way we can mark the passage of time is by the sunrise and sunset. Our bodies naturally respond to the rhythm of the Sun. And in turn all the florae and fauna respond in cycles. The next most noticeable passage of time is the changing of the seasons. But we can also observe human behavior to gain an understanding of where we are in time, space, and history. And all of these elements are what drive me to keep traveling and then return home again. Because of the eternal question of “why are we here?” plagues my consciousness. But with my questioning answers slowly seem to arise whether I choose to recognize them or not. And calling Cincinnati my home is one of the steps I have taken towards reaching for my answers.

Colorado Mountain Art Gallery

Megan and I got to stop by this great little non-profit co-op while in Georgetown, CO. About an hour west of Denver, Georgetown was established during the Gold Rush as a silver mining town, on I-70. The town's economy which was based on the trade of precious metals is now mostly dependant on tourism. It's a qaint little town near Guanella Pass and right before the entrance to the Central City Parkway. Located in the National Historic Landmark District the Colorado Mountain Art Gallery houses some great local 2D and 3D art. Most or all of the work is by self-taught artists who sell their work cooperatively. Which means a portion of their sales goes to the gallery so that the gallery can sustain itself. Many of the small companies that were started in the rockies historically have been co-ops. My great-great grandfather help start one after he built a house in Telluride. As with many of the emigrants that were from Sweden and western Europe they believed in more socially focused business and political models. And like those models the business model of the CMAG is focused on promoting local artists and helping support the people of the community. If you get the chance I would definately recommend a visit to the gallery to see the work and to chat with the artists.

"Getting to the top is optional, but getting down is mandatory." -ed viesturs

They call is summit fever when someone is just dying to get to the top of a mountain. And a lot of people do die trying, ironically. They don't play it safe and they don't know their limits. And while I felt like I had a good handle on the situation when it came to climbing a "14er" I didn't actually know until I was at the top. Confidence can get you pretty far when it comes to most things in life. But you can't always coast on confidence to help you succeed. In fact it is quite the opposite. Mostly it takes hard work and just taking things once step at a time. And although I am filling your brains with colloquialisms, clichés, and idioms I found all of these to be true when it came to climbing two 14ers. You see, I've read a dozen mountaineering books so I felt pretty confident that I would know when to turn back not to mention all the dangers that are included in climbing in the alpine environment. But what I didn't learn from all the books was to really enjoy the experience. I knew that spending a long time on any given summit was a bad idea. But I only spent a few minutes to eat a snack and snap a few pictures. I didn't really take in the experience. I was too worried about getting down safely. I can give the excuse of being practically asphyxiated when I got to the top. And people do strange things when there is a lack of oxygen. I would compare it to being drunk but it's not quite the same. You still have your inhibitions but your judgment is fogged. It’s like time just seems to slow down. It takes longer to think. And you won't know this feeling until you've been at the top. I remember when I hit the top of Gray's peak I had a hard time communicating exactly what I meant to say. Although I was happy to see other human life forms who would be able to carry on some kind of conversation. I soloed both Gray's and Torrey's which most people would call a mistake. They would claim that climbing alone is a dangerous business because if you fall there won't be anyone to organize a rescue. But my theory is that if you fall on a mountain rescue is so far away and the likelihood of survival is so much slimmer that danger is not the best reason for having a climbing partner. The best reason is to have emotional support. A second brain to help make judgment calls and to be excited with when you conquer the hill. But nonetheless it was nice to be alone on the mountain. I kept my own pace, I learned to deal with my own fears, and I was my own cheer leader. But being alone I kept my eye out for others who were climbing. Whether that was to watch for their safety, if they might cause a rock fall, or other behaviors I was able to pay close attention to my fellow climbers. For the most part these people were avid climbers with a lot of experience. They had the right gear and attitude. One guy on top of Gray's was marking his assent of his 53rd 14er. He had conquered all of the 14,000 foot peaks in the state of Colorado. Funny enough his first climb was at the age of 25 and I turned 25 three months ago. I suppose it was quite apropos that I meet this man on the summit of Gray's on my maiden summit. But there are other stories on the climb that were stranger that I would like to forget. There was the man whose son clearly had Acute Mountain Syndrome and was throwing up. When I offered aspirin to help with the symptoms the man barked back, "He's already had some". But I couldn't give a second thought to it because it wasn't my job to take care of a 7 or 8 year old boy on top of a mountain. Although it was a bit heart wrenching to hear the child say, "Dad, I don't want to throw up again and my head hurts. Can we please go back down?" I didn't have time to argue with an adult and try to convince him that the cure to AMS is to descend. An even stranger story occurred at the top of Torrey's. Two young male college students had passed me on the accent keeping a better pace than myself. One of them was quite outspoken and talked about other mountains he had climbed and said, "The worst part about climbing with me is that I talk too much". I couldn't agree more. And as they passed me this student gave me the "rock". I guess it was his way of encouraging me to make it to the summit. But as I reached the summit about five minutes behind them it felt like an empty gesture. I wasn't struggling to make it. I just needed a moment to catch my breath. When I reach the summit of Torrey's I didn't really know how to get back down other than to go back the way I came. I ask the two college kids what their plan was for making the decent. The college student who had given me the "rock" was hunched over his pack and turned around to tell me not to take the north ridge. I looked him right in the eyes and his pupils were fully constricted and he had white powder on his nose and chin. I knew for a fact that he had been snorting some kind of narcotic. It baffled me. I was truly dumbfounded. My heart rate was already near 150 bpm and I can't imagine how high this guy must have been. With a lack of judgment due to the lack of oxygen and the drugs flowing through his veins it's a wonder that he didn't fall to his death or have a heart attack. I couldn't believe the irresponsibility especially because I had taken so many precautions before and during my trip. And if something terrible were to happen I would have to at least try to help the kid. They call it mountain code and its constantly debated whether or not you should stop to help someone and the general rule is to leave someone if it might endanger your life. The same code a first responder or a paramedic follows. And while I had that thought in the forefront of my mind I would have stopped to help. But despite the negative things I saw it was probably one of the most amazing experiences of my life. And like I said before I was sad not to have shared that with someone. So next time I go climbing I plan on bringing a friend.

Denver Magazine!

Everyone should go out an buy this issue of Denver magazine. I happened to have a picture published in this month's issue! It's in bookstores now! Buy like three for you and your friends and then tell them how great it is because you know this guy who has an add in the "zine". Yea, I said zine, what are you gonna do about it? Check out they're facebook: http://www.facebook.com/DenverMagazine#! or their website: http://www.denvermagazine.com/. Let me know if you do buy one and I'll give you the 411 on which photo is mine. You can contact me through facebook (http://www.facebook.com/johngrgas), twitter (http://twitter.com/johngrgas), linkedin (http://www.linkedin.com/pub/john-grgas/22/4b3/445), or email (johngrgas@yahoo.com).

New Road

I've officially decided to start a blog. Yes I know this now officially makes me a nerd. But let's face it, there might be something to this whole internet thing... So I've got to start somewhere. Not to support my own narcissistic ramblings but to share with those who might be interested in who I am and what I have to say. I'm not a guru or genius. I'm not a zealot or a prophet. But I keep my ear to the ground and want to start a conversation about things that mean something to me and might mean something to you. So stay tuned and check back to see if something catches your fancy. Yea I said,"fancy"... if your cool enough you can get away with it.