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
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. 
