I don't remember the first time I was let down by something I put my faith in. I don't remember the first time I discovered a hero to be flawed. I do remember the instinctual need I had as a child to define myself by a variety of surface level ideologies. This a very common sort of tribal tradition, the youth test the waters of different personalities through affectations like what kind of music they listen to, what kind of after-school programs they attend, the clothes they wear, etc. Every character archetype in The Breakfast Club can find their source somewhere in the tastes they exhibited. While it might seem like we leave these things behind once we graduate and there isn't any lunch tables for clique segregation, we still manage to find our little camps. We use our political beliefs, our eating habits and what brand of computer we own as barometers, and if those totems aren't enough, we can use our unmitigated dislike of those who have opposing beliefs to unite us. This often becomes the focal point of why we believe in what we what believe, because it's easier to prove the superiority of our beliefs by scrutinizing and uncovering the inferiority of any other option. It's not okay for people to disagree in a civilized manner or simply choose different things because we tie our choices to who we are. The person you voted for in the last election is now a password for either ridicule or a fist bump- that is until the second password- your opinion of the movie Avatar, is given. This polarizing of people through opinions is obviously nothing new. But with the advent of the internet, discovering varied and increasingly intimate ways to break people and ideologies down in an effort to build another up has gotten easier. At the same time it's made deciding exactly what you believe a convoluted trick question. Arbitrarily picking which contrasting fact to believe is a bit like deciding which skewed propaganda to follow. Being educated on disputed facts has become more and more difficult and thus, seemingly more pointless.

Maybe we've all gotten cynical, or maybe it's just me getting older but in the past few years it seems as though everytime something sparks even a momentary flame of inspired excitement, it is quickly snuffed out. I remember seeing the Occupy movement as being the first time that my generation decided to actually stand for something… defining that "something" became more difficult and now everything about the movement seems to have become at best a cautionary example and at worst, a sad joke- the punchline being the hubris of anyone foolish enough to think that a difference could be made in the first place. 

The question I have is, are we concerned at all with the fact that we're not going to leave our children with any heroes? Are we concerned that as each generation discovers the futility of believing in something, we create an ever deepening cavern of apathy to get lost in? I don't know. I can only speak for myself when I say that I try my best to define what I believe in through a constant mental and emotional inventory. I do my best to keep an open mind to new ideas, to not take offense or become self righteous with those who disagree with me but at the same time, am unafraid to defend my beliefs in a civilized manner. If the things I believe in crumble in my head under a few difficult questions than perhaps I should reevaluate why I embraced them in the first place. I try to temper my passion with compassion, to never lose sight that my beliefs are my own, arrived at through my own contemplation and life experiences. Could someone find flaw with some thing I believe in? Of course. Like I said, that's what the internet's for. But if we share ideas in a safe manner, we can accept our contradictions without fear of the judgement we'll receive for forgiving them. Because WHY we believe in something always has a deeper root in who we are, that isn't arrived at through statistics. 

We may not be given much to believe in, but maybe that just gives us an excuse to boil down and send through the fire our philosophies and see what makes it out the other side. Maybe it's better if we don't all believe in our president as an infallible hero or a sinister villain, but rather universally adopt another way of thinking- a way to live life and treat people, a way to behave, to care for others, to worry less about ourselves and whatever bumper sticker we have and more about how much we're listening- just listening and not waiting for our turn to talk. We can all believe in different things or different versions of the same thing, all have our own opinions and lifestyles but I think that everyone should believe in, and live out, very simply: kindness, respect and humility. If we could start there, maybe believing in something might not seem so… unbelievable.

As a kid growing up in Iowa, I found it easy to fasten nearly every disappointment and frustration on my geographic location. The solution to every problem was always "If I wasn't in this stupid town, everything would be different!" And so, once my friends and I reached the age in which we could drive, we discovered the momentary relief that came with distance. We could just drive. We could leave, even just for a few hours the confines of our neighborhood, the confines of a place you know every nook and cranny of by heart and explore something else. Sadly, I've found that this euphonic sensation really only works when you're a teenager and your problems seem anchored to the place that you live. When you get older and you assume control over the life you have, they follow you around. Money troubles, career troubles, love life troubles, none of them drift away quite as easy as when I was 17 and all it took was a tank of gas and an Elliott Smith cassette. I made this poster to recall that sensation and perhaps to commiserate with those who can relate to the simple joy of gliding through the night with the windows down and the stereo up. 

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up. "

- Anne Lamott

Bicycle Artist, the group I worked with a few weeks back posted the video of our day together. Check it out!

As I posted this a man who looked to be in his late 50s approached. He was wearing your typical "upper middle class suburban white guy" summer outfit, complete with ironed polo. In his hands were three or four library books, one of which was written by Dean Koontz. I couldn't see the title but I liked to think it was "Demon Seed" and that he was in the middle of it and really excited to know where it was headed. The man asked me "Do you know what you're doing is illegal?" My usual course of action when I get a passive aggressive question like this is to do my best to behave courteously and say as little as possible to fuel the self righteous rant that is headed my way. "Oh, don't worry about it, this temp wall is covered with posters on the other side" I replied. The man squinted his eyes a bit 
"It IS illegal" he sneered condescendingly. "How do you feel about that?"

It would have been nice if this question began a balanced, intellectual debate. I would have liked to explain why I do what I do, the positive messages I try to bring into the community and how I make a real effort to only post on wooden construction walls, power boxes, boarded up buildings and other easily buffed or painted over spots. I would have liked to discuss the notion of how if I had been gluing up an advertisement, he may not have even given me a second look and the psychological implications of that phenomenon. We could discuss why my message was offensive to him. Was it really because of his sense of civic pride? Was it his abhorrence to even small laws being broken? Was he just tired of young people like me imposing their 'bohemian' ideas of public expression onto his periphery? All interesting things to discuss... but I knew that this guy was not likely to hear me out. An assumption verified when all I could get out was
"Well, this is temporary-" before he shook his head and abruptly huffed off, muttering "unbelievable" under his breath. I can't say I blame the guy, I mean- he had much better things to do than hear me out. Those library books would be due in only two weeks and if he was to experience the thrilling conclusion of "Demon Seed" he had some reading to do.

I was featured in yesterday's LA Times. Dig it!

Click HERE to read.

Check out this video featuring footage of me in Nicaragua and a brief interview... but only, y'know... if you're into that type of stuff. If you're REALLY into it, you should check out and like the Volverá Facebook page.

TRANSLATION: "For the flowers to grow you have to make God cry"

Nicaragua. It's the largest country in the Central American isthmus, bordering Honduras to the north and Costa Rica to the south. The country is situated between 11 and 14 degrees north of the Equator in the Northern Hemisphere, which places it entirely within the tropics. The Pacific Ocean lies to the west, and the Caribbean Sea to the east. It's population is roughly 6,071,000 people. 

That was about all I knew before I accepted a trip down, sponsored by the Volverá Project who asked me to put up some of my art and help with a class on public expression with some local San Juan Del Sur kids. I briefly skimmed Wikipedia to see just how they punish vandals- I can take a little Singapore style caning but my courage falls short of anything involving electrodes or public execution. Wikipedia didn't mention anything like that so I accepted. I asked my brother-in-law to translate a few of my slogans- I'd been told that often the language and proper translation can depend on region- and as he'd grown up speaking that dialect I figure I was safe. Plus he didn't seem the type to take advantage of me and translate "Forgive Someone" into "Please excuse me, I suffer from unexpected erection disease, they can last up to four and a half hours." If he had my response would probably have been- "Hey, I know what quatro means! What are you trying to pull here?!"

Upon arrival, as I left in the shuttle arranged to get me from the airport to my first city, San Juan Del Sur, the driver started laughing and explained in Spanish- which I only understood a few words of- "small, child, no mother or father" - I looked out the window and saw what seemed to be a 15 year old boy flailing about as two police held him by his arms and legs and carried him- like one would a wounded man or someone having a seizure. I thought that perhaps the boy was having an epileptic fit but after carrying him into a small security booth, before the door to the booth slowly closed, I saw the police, holding the kid on the ground, punching and kicking him. The driver groaned in what I thought was sympathy but then laughed again and said in English "Bye baby".  Later in the drive we passed a small soccer filed and in the center was what looked to be a  small bon fire. There was no one around and it looked to be growing and spreading out a bit, crawling steadily through the dry grass. I wondered if that might be a problem for someone in the near future. 

At this point, all that was missing in my first impression of the country was a sound track of "Welcome To The Jungle" by Guns 'N Roses reminding me that "You're gonna DIIIIIIIEEEEEE".

Thankfully that was not a theme that reoccurred and turned out to be the most worrisome part of my journey.

Upon reaching San Juan Del Sur I found the beach community charming and quite welcoming. The locals were kind and held no grudge at my pathetic attempts at Spanish. SIDENOTE- I discovered that no matter how hard I tried to recall my high school Spanish classes literally the ONLY thing that I could remember was this, which is great if someone put a gun to my head and demanded that I "Rock The Capitals" of South America. It's a little less helpful when you're trying to find a bathroom.

As far as how safe the country was, I seemed to get contradictory advice from the various Ex Pats I came in contact with. "Nicaragua is totally safe, you're just being a paranoid white American! The only people who get robbed here are the stupid, thoughtless ones that let their guard down for even a second! You're gonna be just fine. But if you see any kind of obstruction in the road ahead, we're just gonna ram through it because sometimes bandits set fires in the road and come from the sides with knives if you stop. But that probably won't happen so just sit back and enjoy some chilled out reggae music."

TRANSLATION: "THERE'S NOTHING MORE BORING THAN A PERSON WITH A PERFECT LIFE" (San Juan Del Sur)

Putting up the posters was fairly easy. While graffiti is somewhat common, very few people have ever seen a wheat paste poster in more rural parts of Nicaragua and the medium had reached Managua significantly enough that no one seemed bothered by it. So as I put stuff up, the reactions varied from confusion, bemusement and total apathy- all of which are usually pretty comforting for me when compared to civic rage. 

TRANSLATION: "WE ARE LIVING THE PROLOGUE" (Granada)

Teaching the kids was quite enjoyable as it reminded me of how open their minds in expressing themselves and free they seem of self-conscious doubts. Ask a young girl why she chose to draw a scene where cats are watering flowers and she just looks at you with an expression of "There are rules about cats NOT watering flowers?" and her expression had a point. In many ways, working with kids can be as inspirational to an artist as an artist hopes to be with the kids.  

TRANSLATION: "My head is a casket for our memories" (Granada)

Upon reaching Granada, I was struck by the age of the city. In America, there are very few truly OLD buildings- probably because of our comparative youth as a country. I was careful not to trash anything historic.

TRANSLATION: "Forgive Someone" (San Juan Del Sur)

I tried my best to use the more universal slogans I have. As most of them have been crafted for the variety of Angelenos, I hoped that my less area specific sentiments might still hold some weight.

TRANSLATION: "My Life Is Just A First Draft" (Managua)

There seemed to be more spots than I could have hoped for in Managua. Between blank billboards and dilapidated walls, I was in heaven.  

TRANSLATION "I Won't Be Afraid Of Anything Ever Again" (San Juan Del Sur)

We'd found a couple billboards with blank backs like this one but as the only ladder we could find was just a little short, reaching only to the top of the T shaped pole holding it up. The ladder was a little rickety and with the wind blowing we a bit that high up, it was difficult to properly paste. This piece got a little ripped and was out of comfortable reach to fix much better than that- still, it was an improvement to the first attempt we had at a similar billboard where upon reaching the top of the ladder, a helicopter buzzed about me, landing in a near by field, followed by armed soldiers. At the bottom of the of the ladder my friend David yelled "This never happens- don't worry!" Which seemed to me to be two totally contradictory statements. If it never happens, how do you know I shouldn't worry? We'd come to find that a Russian diplomat was visiting for some reason- which ironically, almost never happens AND I didn't have anything to worry about. 

TRANSLATION: "The Cruelest Fate is that of Constant Certainty" (Granada)

We put this one up at night in an abandon hospital which had fallen into deep disrepair. I was so in love with what was left of this structure that I had wanted to put up a second piece within its walls. As I, David and David's friend Sean, our driver and helper for the night scouted in the ruins for a good spot, David suddenly came up to Sean and I and told us to leave, that security was coming and he'd handle it. We dutifully exited and waited. Later David would explain that when the security guards reached him, guns drawn and cocked- (SIDENOTE: I would ask David "Security guards have guns here? Not just like a big flashlight?" and he laughed "You're not gonna secure anything without a gun here dude. (pause) BUT IT'S TOTALLY SAFE HERE!") David explained that he was a photographer and simply wanted to take photos. They ushered him off the site and watched us as we drove away, totally unaware that they were watching from a hole in the building that was only inches away from the seven foot poster we'd just posted.   

TRANSLATION: "Forget how much it hurts and try again" (Managua)

This one was done outside of a mall and while mall security guards did approach (guns in holsters, thankfully) and ask us to stop, we simply said we had permission and drove away before they could discover that we did not. 

TRANSLATION: "I built you an army to protect your heart" (Granada).

I dropped a few of these Morey Men from a very tall church bell tower that for some strange reason was open to the public for the price of two bucks. 

TRANSLATION: "You and I are comrades in arms in the battle of hope" (Managua)

As I posted this, I noticed some police approaching. Worried that they were might be for me I snapped this photo and prepared for the worst. They simply drove by. By now I should have realized that the police probably have a lot better things to worry about than some gringo gluing up a poster.

Near by some kids started yelling. I wasn't sure what they were trying to say but eventually deduced that they wanted me to look behind me- I saw the following...

A more than likely dead owl. I wasn't 100% sure- but I have never read about owls sleeping habits including on the ground in the middle of the day while traffic passes loudly, kids yell and some dude slaps a bunch of glue a foot away. But what do I know, maybe it's just a really DEEP sleeper.

TRANSLATION: "Forgive Someone"

On my plane home from Nicaragua, I put this sticker in the emergency instructions. I figured that someone in the kind of situation might want to include forgiving someone in their list of things to do. Hopefully they won't need the instructions I covered up. 

Final thoughts on Nicaragua...

I can honestly say that Nicaragua is a lovely place where the people are warm and generous. I would happily return. I didn't caned, I didn't electrocuted or publicly executed. Instead I found a culture that embraces art and the visitors that come baring it.

I hope my work does a little bit of good to those who see it.

TRANSLATION: The Cruelest Fate Is That Of Constant Certainty

So last week I was invited to visit Nicaragua and put up some work around a few of their cities. I just got back to the states last night and while I'm still playing the "just got back in town catch up" game, I wanted to upload one of my favorite photos from the trip and promise a full debriefing in the next couple days.

The new show on Amazon- "Betas" (a comedy about computer software developers) used a painting of mine for their set- it even gets a pretty nice close up! Dig it!

Watch the show (for free) here:
http://amzn.com/B00CDBX1PA