ISSUE No. 1: Ghost-Written Artists' Statements.

Today I ghost-wrote an artists' statement for a sculptor. I am not going to tell you who it is or show you an image of the piece, but this is the text I wrote about it....

Magic Potion by Scooter LaForge*

Is My House a Home?

Due to the conditions imposed by life in the new Depression compounded by all the financial constraints that come with being a professional artist, I have had to allow manditory household repairs to lapse. The mortar between the bricks on the upper part of the chimney has been chipped and worn away by the elements. We now await the first strong winds of autumn to topple it sending stray bricks through my and my neighbor's bedroom windows. The trees and the root systems growing in the gutters causes the rainwater to back into the attic. Now the ceilings are caving in. The paint on the shingles and doors has almost completely cracked and chipped off. Black mold lives on the bathroom ceiling. Kitchen floor tiles stick to the bottom of bare feet. Most of the interior walls need to be repainted and windows need to be replaced. Something in nearly every room is in need of a costly repair. Does "Grey Gardens" come to mind?

We inherited several large boxes from my grandparents containing "important papers". For the last decade or so, they have awaited sorting as they completely fill two of our nine rooms. The passing on of the dysfunction of saving boxes filled with scraps of paper with old phone messages and "to do" lists scribbled on them mixed with an occasional oil well deed has caused us to unwittingly take on the sickness of hoarding. Another two rooms are devoted to the storage of unsold artwork. They should serve as colossal reminders of the ugly nature of the anti-individualistic right wing culture I have been somehow misplaced into. But, have wound up becoming private chapels devoted to the worship of my own frustration, disappointment and sense of self-doubt. I just wish I could abandon this place. 

Here, I present a composition of both found and manipulated ready-made objects meant to suggest the structure of a place of dwelling. Is my experience reflexive of a collective cultural anxiety regarding our relationship with material possessions or is it merely a reflection of my own? 

* http://www.scooterlaforge.com