DO (this) TOUR PROJECT

Finished up a big project with the Fuse Marketing agency, HQ'ed in Burlington, VT. One of their clients is Mountain Dew, and the long running Dew Tour is falls under that umbrella. They've asked me to collaborate with them for a couple of years now and it finally worked out for 2017. I partnered up with a long-time collaborator and friend, Andy Mueller, of Lakai and The Quiet Life, for the project. We curated the on-site Green Label Gallery, created one-off mono-prints, graphics, three limited-edition prints and did some live painting at the Long Beach, CA, event ( June 15th-18th). It was a great experience thanks to the awesome staff at Fuse... super professional, personable and they dug the work. Below are a couple images from the project.

"MARKS; A BLACK & WHITE EXHIBITION"

Bend has gathered a talented group of top drawers and asked them create black and white pieces that will travel to several cities as a group show entitled "Marks; A Black & White Exhibition.” Check this line-up:

Evan Hecox
James Jarvis
Andy Jenkins
Henry Jones
Randy Laybourne
Nathan Lewis
John McGuire
Travis Millard
Jason Polan
Michael Sieben

The premiere of the "Marks" series is currently hanging at the Seeing Things Gallery in San Jose. If you're in the area, you can check it out until June 3rd. If you are interested in seeing and/or buying any of the artwork, they will be available on the Seeing Things Store, 5/25. Big thanks go out to the man behind Seeing Things, Jai Tanju.

UNRATED MAGAZINE

Unrated Magazine interviewed me about "What Happened" and creativity in general. Check it out here. Thanks go out to, Benjamin Benichou and Alexander Lendrum. Photo, Tobin Yelland.

BEND PRESS + THE QUIET LIFE

Head over to The Quiet Life online shop to check out the collab we did — Bend Press + The Quiet Life. It's a celebration of the book, "What Happened." There are tees, hats, pencils, pins, etc. Dig it.

MONSTER CHILDREN BUMP

You can read an interview I did with Jason Crombie on the Monster Children site. We talked writing and my book, "What Happened' -- which you can buy in the Bend Shop. A big thanks to Monster Children for supporting me since MC issue 1. Thank you Campbell, Hollywood, Crombie and Chris.

"WHAT HAPPENED" RELEASE EVENT

We're having a book release and signing at the Quiet Life store on Saturday, March 25th. In addition, the Bend Press + Quiet Life special collab items will be on display and for sale, along with the original Travis Millard illustrations from the book. The Quiet Life Store, 5627 N. Figueroa, LA 90042. Come by by and shoot the shit with us.

WHAT HAPPENED

Bend Press Project #25 is now available in the Bend Store.

"What Happened is a collection of stories by Andy Jenkins with Illustrations by Travis Millard. Most of the collection is from Bender a regular column in Monster Children magazine (Australia)."
First Printing 2017. 8.5" x 5.5", 56 pages, perfect bound.

THE MASTER CLUSTER RECOUNTS

Chloe Dewberry wrote a really cool piece on the Master Cluster and the magazines we published and destroyed (haha). Check it out over on the Opening Ceremony site.

OUTSIDE THE LINES TOO

I was lucky enough to be asked to contribute to an amazing project. A coloring book curated by Souris Hong, "Outside The Lines Too." I will be signing it along with a bunch of the other contributors at MOCA in LA this weekend. Pretty neat project. Check this link to Installation Magazine article.

ANOTHER LOST VID; CHOCOLATE 20 YEAR

IN RESIDENCE; PART 3

Forgot about this video piece. It pretty much explains the Art Dump's involvement in the Oakley In Residence project. Director, Kirk Dianda.

MONK'S MIRROR

TAKING TURNS, 2007

My old friend, and former Art Dumper, Tony Larson, posted this on the Instagram this morning. It reminded me of a great show we had — "Taking Turns" — at the Monster Children Gallery in Sydney, 2007. Here we are culling from hundreds of collaborative mono-prints. The show was myself, Larson and Andy Mueller. Need to do anther one with these, guys.

THESE TWO...

With Eric Koston and Atiba Jefferson. Oakley In Residence press conference, April 30th, 2015.

IN RESIDENCE; PART 2

The opening event for the Oakley In Residence project launched the three week stay of the Oakley house in West Hollywood. The focus was the Girl Art Dump and it's homage to 8 legendary LA skate spots. Lots of folks showed up and tons of media. Here's a vid from director, Kirk Dianda, and a couple of links to help explain the whole thing...



Check the coverage from Juice Magazine.

GOING DUMB

This happened about a month ago, but I forgot to post it. I was pretty happy with the animation. Check out Girl & Chocolate's Going Dumb Up The 101...

OOPS

I've been remiss here. My bad. Let's start again...

I just recently finished up a project with Eric Koston + Oakley Skateboarding + Girl Skateboards. It was a blast working on it, and I'm really happy with how project ended up. Big thanks to all involved. Check this video for an overview. #liveyours

JUST ONCE

"Take a seat," the man said without looking up.

'Why take a seat? Does he really want me to take it. Where would I take it?'

"Please... sit."

'Whoa. Did he read my mind?' As Archie began to sit, he became self-conscious. He refocused, but only to begin concerning himself about how he sat and how he was being observed as a sitter. He crossed his legs just so, but he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. Whenever he placed them on his thighs his thumb would eventually begin to feel as though they it were on the opposite side of his hand. That freaked him out, reminded him of school. Sitting at his desk in class, he would sometimes get the sensation that everything around him was growing. Just a little. By, maybe, 120%…  The people got bigger, the walls would expand, his desk grew. He would close his eyes in an effort to avoid the sensation, but even then, a smokey image of the things around him still felt bigger. 

Eventually he rested his left arm on the chair and put his right hand up to his beard. He stroked it. This looks stupid, he thought and quickly dropped his hand into his lap.

"So." Pause. "What brings you here today, Mr., ah…" flipping through papers clamped in a clip board. "Knowles. I noticed a few blanks in the paperwork. Do you mind if we fill them out now?"

"Sure." Had he forgotten to add some trivial insurance information? The number of his emergency contact, maybe?

"Sure, you mind? Or sure let's get them answered?"

That was dickish. "I'll answer them."

"Good, good. Let's see…" more flipping through papers in his clip board. "It seems you forgot to list your birth date here."

Relief. Was that it? "12/10/73."

Scribble, scribble. "And here you didn't list anything on your history of illegal substance use," he said without looking up, his glasses resting on his forehead as he combed the paperwork.

Archie squirmed. He thought they would breeze right over that one. Should he tell the truth with the possibility of being turned away? Or should he lie and hope to not be caught up in it later?

"I'm not here to judge."

"Well, it's not like I've ever abused drugs."

"Like I said, I'm not here to judge."

How honest should he be here? Maybe total honesty wouldn't bode well in this instance. 'He'll judge me,' Archie thought. 'He says he won't, but he will. He'll think I was an idiot for climbing that lightpole in Dallas, or driving around in slow motion freaking out on everything in that strange, ghostly city — all while buzzing on mescaline. But only once. I only did it once.' Archie decided to start with something less… illegal.

"Well, ah, I smoked pot once." A few hundred times. Does he tell him about the first time, when he'd also been drinking? Does he tell him how he pissed his pants in the grocery store that night after kicking a loaf of bread down the aisles?

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "And I did acid once." Just once. At home. Alone. Powered by the tab, he figured out the hidden meaning of Captain Beefheart's, Trout Mask Replica CD and sat in front of an open refrigerator touching tomatoes.

"Continue."

"Ecstasy. Once." Only once. On his birthday at a Skinny Puppy show. That had been a fucking weird, shaky trip. He remembered the singer being pushed out on stage in a mucus and gore-covered rubber bubble which he eventually tore himself out of. Or had he? Details remain sketchy.

"Oh, and mushrooms, I did those tw…once — as well. Just once." Both times in the desert at Joshua Tree with a group of friends. On one trip they had laid on the piles of giant rocks, laughing, teary-eyed, until a ranger showed up and let them know they couldn't camp in that specific area. The crew piled into Paul's SUV and drove off. Archie was convinced they were going to be stopped by the authorities, so he had Paul pull over dispose of the evidence by throwing the bag of mushrooms as far as he could into the night. It glided about 6 feet, falling just inside a barbed-wire fence.

"So let's review; marijuana, acid, ecstasy and mushrooms," the man pauses and looks up at Archie over his glasses.

Pause. "Oh, and mescaline." Archie's thumbs were beginning to change sides.

"Just once, I'm guessing," he asks as he scribbles.

"Yes."

"Does that about cover it?"

"Yes. I believe so."

"You believe so, or you know so?"

He shifted butt cheeks on the chair. "Know so. I know so."


Bender. Originally published in issue #33 of Monster Children.

I'VE BEEN LYING TO MY PSYCHIATRIST

Her building is pretty non-discrete and sits amongst a crowd of hospital structures. She works in an office on the 2nd floor. And she has a view, which is nice. I often find myself looking out the window as she scribbles notes.

When I walk into the lobby, the fist thing I have to do is announce myself by writing my name onto a waiting list and pressing a button on the wall which let's her know her next appointment is in. Then, I grab a clip-board with a standard questionnaire attached to it. I have to rate, one through five, a plethora of personal questions. Well, they aren't even questions, they're just words:

Depression  1  2  3  4  5
Stress 1 2 3 4 5
Anxiety  1  2  3  4  5
Sleep 1 2 3 4 5
Restless Leg Syndrome  1  2  3  4  5
Diarrhea 1 2 3 4 5

Etc.

I finish it and wait. I get a glimpse of the other folks waiting. None of them seem outwardly depressed. Do I? I look through the magazines. Even ones I would never otherwise open. I Instagram one of the empty chairs.

There is an elderly couple beside me and they are talking very loudly about nothing in particular. The woman gets up to check on their appointment time. She farts rather loudly. Everyone pretends not to notice.

"Andy." It's her. She comes to the door herself to call her patients.

I get up and walk past her towards her office. She is tiny. I'm 6' 2". It always feels weird walking in front of her. My pants sag. In her room a beaten down cream-colored couch awaits. I hand her my questionnaire and sit.

Her: "How have you been doing since we last met?"

Me: "Good, good." Half truth. You know how it is. Pat answer. It's the same response we all give random someones when they ask "How are you, man?" Good just comes out of our mouths.

Her: "That's great to hear. How's your anxiety been?"

Me: "Not bad." Again, half truth. For instance, right now, as I write this, I'm sitting in a chair, drinking coffee, tensing and un-tensing (is that even a word?) my legs, scratching my head and worrying wether or not this piece of writing is going to be worth a shit. At times I will get up and walk around my office. Just pace. Look out my door to see if anyone is noticing. I also have this habit of gnashing my teeth to the beat of whatever music is on. Right now it happens to be Ornette Coleman. I scratch my nose a lot.

Her: "When you say 'not bad' do you mean better than the last time you were here?"

"Uhm, well, I'm not sure." True.

"Think about it a minute."

Silence while I think. I look around her office. A fan, a tiny refrigerator (what does she keep in there? Her lunch? What does she eat? Drink?), a shelf filled with self-help books and covered in pharmaceutical flyers. The meds. Sales folks give those flyers to the doctors. I think about the sales people and the meds they pedal. "Worse. I think."

Her: "Do you think it's the fact that we reduced the (insert drug name here)?"

How the fuck should I know? "Ah, maybe. Sure, I think so."

She scratches on her note pad. I notice my file has gotten thicker and thicker. Have I been coming here for that long? Holy shit, I must really have a problem(s). "Well, let's up the (insert drug name here). What do you think?"

She's asking me what I think about meds? "I have no idea," I tell her. True.

"How's your exercising going? I see here you've lost 10 pounds."

"Pretty good. I walk the dog every day." Lie.

"How long are your walks?"

"30 to 35 minutes." Lie.

"Can you up that to 45 minutes?"

"Yeah, I think so." No. I love my dog, but 45 minutes a night?

I can't help but wonder what she's thinking, if anything at all. How many patients must she have? Is she curious why my t-shirt says "Listen to Gwar" on it? Does she ever wonder about me, or is she thinking about her next break when she can rummage through her tiny fridge for a yogurt? Wait, she doesn't like milk-based products.

Her: "How about diet? Are you eating the things we talked about?"

Of course not. "Ah, I've been trying. But I slip and have a burger on occasion."

"OK. But have you thought about erasing the carbs? Can you have the burger without the bread? Maybe just wrap it with lettuce…"

"Hmmm." That's dumb. If I have a burger, it has to have bread. I want to tell her about all the things my mom fed us growing up. Our closest thing to green food was Iceberg lettuce. But there's not time to look backwards here — that's for therapy. Which reminds me, I should set up an appointment.

The questions come rapid fire.

Her: "Hobbies?"

Me: "Does writing count?"

"Sure. Are you a writer?"

"Uh… I write things down." Does that count?

"How do you feel from a 1 to 10? 10 being great."

"You mean right now? Or yesterday? Or an hour ago?"

"Let's say, right now."

I hesitate. "Uh, a 7 and a half?" But I know I'll be at least an 8 after I leave her office. "Do you ever have anyone say 10?" I ask.

She scribbles a bit, "No." Hands me a prescription, "OK then. I'll see you again in 6 weeks."

Cool. That's about when my next Bender is due.


Bender. Originally published in issue #41 of Monster Children. 2013.

DAM

Denver Art Museum, 2010.