Sidewalk Jazz

 

 

Sticker Art: Crazy Cats & Headbangers' Balls

"Crazy Cat!',  coming at you from the back bumper, baby.

The Headbangers Ball with some politics, religion, and $$$ thrown in.

Street Signs: Below Poverty Levels

On the other side of the tracks.

Sticker Art: Dead Head

every day is a holiday for 'los muertos'

Street Art: The Sewer Monster

It crawled out, from within.

I found this particular nightmare walking back from a real estate excursion around town. Whoever thought to pair a Cthulhu-type octopus creature with the faceless body of a businessman in suit and tie is one twisted monkey, and my type of freak. We know monsters lurk in more places than the dank depths of a city's bowels. Sometimes, they even live and walk among us, perhaps secure in their anonymity, but no less evil because of their every day banality.  
Who is it that walks among you?

http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/street-art-sacred-spaces/ 

Street Art: Vinny on Fire

From the street to someones wall.

I walked by this sign at the local CVS a few weeks ago, looking all nicely decorated. This week? It's gone. Man, that's some hot street art. Either that, or the fellas I saw doing work to the front of the building had it removed. I hope it's hanging on a local wall somewhere, because it's too cool to be destroyed. That's the power of art.

Git some:  

http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/street-art-sacred-spaces/

Street Art: Fortune Teller

Doctor Killgore ain't real.

Don't trust this Ouija board, kids. That email address is fake! 
How dare they?! For the real deal, look here: http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/street-art-sacred-spaces/.

Street Art: Disco Sucks

 

Slayer Rules in Rockland County, or at least it did.

When I was a young teen, there were two camps in the tri-state area: rockers and disco-loving Guido's. I actually love to dance to a strong beat, and I love the sound electric guitars make, so I didn't have tribal affiliations to either side. Nonetheless, the divide was deep. You were either a dance "fag" or a rocker, and kids were forced to choose sides in my house to avoid taunts. 

Ice cream, rock tees, boat rides, and family history

My brothers were (naturally) metal guys in their teens, sensitive to hints of "gayness", so it was a powerful card in my back pocket if they got out of line with me. If I wanted to get under their skin quickly, all I had to do was tune into to a "gay" disco station and turn it up. We had cheap doors with easy locks that could be turned with a thumbnail to open quickly, and that's exactly what they did if I dared to play offensive music; open my door and forcibly turn the dial on my old stereo I inherited from my godfather, complete with 8 track player.

I see Doucettes (live and dead) everywhere.

In retaliation, I had to do pathetically little. I loved their t-shirt collection (I still love mens' shirts) because their boxy square cuts went great over 80s clothes, like leggings and tight jeans, and I would often take their shirts out of their drawers to wear when they weren't around, which infuriated them. The one musical tradition we all agreed upon as siblings (and still do) is that the Stones rule. I mean it. We believe in The Rolling Stones the way a guido needs hair gel before leaving his house. Yeah, that badly. And we were right. They've withstood the hands of time to dominate the rock scene the way few other rock bands have, except for U2, another band I discovered foraging through record stores on trips to the city. I grabbed a single to their first hit "Gloria" because I knew I was hearing something powerful and raw, and I was right about that, too. I would go on to design CD's for musicians and bands in a post-production studio in Colorado, that's how good an ear I have for audio. I know quality when I hear it, and I know shit, too.

Acadians in Nova Scotia.

Rummaging through some photos on my mom's bookcase, I found photos of a story about my history that I tell sometimes to friends about how I wore a black and white-sleeved Stones concert shirt (which were all the rage back then) that my brothers outgrew on our history tour to Nova Scotia during the early 80s because we're Acadian (not my mom; too bad for her!). It was the first time I was there, and it was epic: just like one of my ancestors, I almost died on the boat ride there. It was a 8 hour trip across the Bay of Fundy from Maine, the roughest waters in the Atlantic. I threw up for most of it, and so did my mom, and so did many others because the bathrooms were outfitted with cots. I said to my mom "If this boat sinks, I won't even care", so bad was my mal de mer. My brothers sporadically threw up over the side of the ferry because my Canuck Dad (also ex-Navy) insisted that they would be fine on deck in the fresh air. At least I had some privacy in the ladies room.

Disco sucks and now you know, too.

These were some of the things I thought about when I saw rocker scratchitti in a bench in the local park, made years ago by boys not unlike the men in my family: tribally loyal, fierce, vulnerable, brave, rockers to the core, though now open to other music occasionally, two of them still playing guitars (both acoustic and electric) to rock music.  

 What do you see in your hometown that takes you back?

People of the streets, check this out: http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/street-art-sacred-spaces/.

Street Art: Beauty

You are beautiful.

Random art happens, and sometimes it's there just when you need it, like say, your local bus stop. Every day I fight the good fight to stay in an industry that could care less about whether I live or die, because a business isn't an actual person with a soul, a conscience, or however you define the human experience. Cruel? Perhaps, but I also come loaded with some very powerful weapons of my own: my history, my life stories, my background, my expertise, and a strong portfolio. 

Weapon of choice for the day's errand.

Still, every little bit helps when you're meeting for the umpteenth time a rich, white man with more privileges, advantages and money than you, smug in their role, trying to make you feel that they hold your fate in your hands. The Hunger Game can be a really powerful head trip, and like any other business, publishing comes fully loaded with a lot of huge egos, of people who let it go to their head. So when I see a little shining sign that reminds me who I am, of who I can still choose be (and so can you), it helps. Thanks.

I need all the help I can get, thank you.

Around the Way: Bye, Bye Brooklyn

Cool like that.

My stuff may still live in Brooklyn, but I've moved on. This was the view from the back of a storage building, and I couldn't help but find it representing that Brooklyn flavor: the neon Kentile sign that many a weary subway commuter has looked at from their window seat, wishing they were already home. It was a great home to me, and I'll always remember my time there: funky, fabulous, freshness.  
Brooklyn rocks the house. Always.

Down like that.

Nature lovers, my blog made the news again on Nature Daily. Check it out, yo: http://paper.li/GoodBlogPosts2/1309689915.

Street Art: Sticker Faces

Pearl River Bus Stop: Face 1.

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do waiting for the slow country bus going to the city (http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2013/05/around-town-hitchin-ride.html). 

Pearl River Bus Stop: Face 2.

These artists had the right idea: let's make funny faces from post office labels and stick 'em up for other people to see. It gets you through the tough times. What do you do when you're impatient?

Sacred Spaces: St. Margaret's

Saint Margaret's of Pearl River, NY.

I have another Pinterest board that's called Street Art and Sacred Spaces for a reason: both are intimate communal places that give us very specific experiences. One very late night, my mind racing from an unfortunately timed evening cup of very strong tea that I shouldn't have had, I condensed my boards into groupings, thinking about what I wanted to say to my audience.

Street sign in Pearl River, NY.

It's a carefully culled selection of images, whose pairings are designed for pondering. What do our public spaces say? Sometimes it's as simple (and wonderfully complex) as a stand of beautiful tress that inspired the original cathedral builders who sought to draw our eyes upwards towards the heavens, or a sticker on a bus stop links together the creator and the viewer in a bonding experience that's just as intelligently (and sublimely) developed. Enjoy the view.

Street Art and Sacred Spaces: http://pinterest.com/mariedoucette/street-art-sacred-spaces/

Street Art: Yo, Vinny!

What is that? Who's Vinny?!

I have no idea who Vinny is, and back at art school in the 90s, when Andre the Giant stickers were passed around among us, I had no idea who his posse was. I still don't. But I know Shep Fairey is from RISD, and at the time I actually thought he was a printmaking major (he was an Illustration major), because he spent so much time screen printing projects in those studios. My friends in printmaking gave me my first batch of Andre stickers, and for years I still had one or two.

He's the hook that pulls you in.

I've traveled the world a bit, and I've seen Andre stickers on potted plants hanging in Amsterdam creperies, at an angle directly within my line of my vision, which was surreal, strange, and cool all at the same time. And that's how it goes: fine art thrives in the cult of exclusivity, that hipster feeling of being in the know, then spreads outward to the masses. I'm glad to see the next generation has taken up the baton of sticker art made for the streets. Go, man, go.

http://www.rocklandtimes.com/2012/08/16/vinny-raffa-still-has-a-posse/

Street Art: No Dogs Allowed

Oh, no Snoopy!

Every time I see a sign like this, it takes me back to Charlie Brown Specials from my childhood. You know the one: Snoopy can't visit his sick little girl in a hospital, the little girl who loved him before Charlie Brown. Oh, so sad! Poor Snoopy!! But then, one of my brothers would come in a dis the show (usually with "This show is gay! Like, for babies and stuff."), then change the channel to something more boy-centric like baseball.



I wish A.D.D. drugs were more available then for those little devils! I kid. It's made me much more tolerant towards other people's interests, even the cripplingly boring ones, and for that I'm glad because contrary to our t.v. reality, there's a lot of boredom and boring out there, and the more bored I feel, the more creative I get. What inspires you?

You little devil!

Street Art: Mad Skillz, Yo

“Phreshness” in the country. But how?

With internet ghetto skills. Duhhh!

Street Art: Vinny at Your Inn

Vinny strikes back.

Street Art: Skate Punks

Jesus: by the people, for the people.

I saw some arty stickers up in the local park, as well as a group of skateboarders by the band shell, and this old punk rocker's heart swelled with pride. Keeping it fresh, by the next generation.

Hey, Spitfire! What's up?

Freedom is awesome. Happy Fourth of July!
 

Street Art: NYC

Street pole in Pearl River, N.Y.

Around Town: The answer is love

Love is the answer

Street Art: Hookah Jellyfish

Jellyfish likes hookah: in Park Slope, Brooklyn.