Welcome

Ahoy Matey, and Welcome to REPTIRE, an intermittent ‘ship’s blog’, chronicling the slow rise in the South Easterly skies of Reptire Designs; a studio that designs and crafts always artful, and sometimes useful THINGAMABOBS from old Indian Cucachou, aka ReTired Rubber.

Down Below, Ye shall find a permanent 'flagship post' marking the Maiden Voyage of Reptire Designs.

And below that, in the ‘hull’, can be found more recent posts chronicling the daring new adventures of Reptire Designs, dashed with small bits of whimsy, spotted pickerel, local color, and lizard lore..

In fact, on the right, in pale purple, ye shall find the Captain's Log’s Table of Previous Posts, which ye can peruse by year, month, and title to ye hearts content.

If ye haven't gotchyer sea legs yet, My Pretty, Ye can take a gander at our website at www.reptiredesigns.com, to get a proper Landlubber's Introduction.

Thanks for stopping in, I do hope you enjoy your visit aboard this ship! HARHARHARHAR.......

Sincerely, Travius Von Cohnifus

Captain, Founder, Indentured Servant, Rubber Alligator Wrestlor Extraordinaire a' this here ship.

enter the treadknot

Welcome
On September 26th, 2006, I launched my tire art/design business, Reptire Designs, with a solo exhibition of my artwork in The Green Gallery at The Scrap Exchange Center for Creative Reuse, in Durham, NC. For many reasons, it was a night that I will always remember, and I am grateful to Laxmi (my girlfriend at the time) and Edie (my mother, still) for dutifully documenting while I shmoozed, so that I may now shmare a taste of the evening with anyone who was not able to attend...



On a cool but lively autumn night-before-Center Fest, a stream of friends and curious strangers trickled (like pebbles through a rain stick) through the forest of odds and ends (that roost at night in The Scrap Exchange), out into the warm light of the back savanna, a scene utterly glopped with bizarre rubbery hybrids. Tentative and curious, the visitors craned their necks, nibbled, pecked, stood back, moved in closer. From the walls, glassy mirror eyes gazed back through black unblinking eyelids, while beneath the visitor's feet, in a steamy drainage cistern, a mortal drama unfolded. Primordial forms, with no eyes at all, sat puckered on stoops. A cascade of glittering steal droplets formed a curtain, to which clung a colony of tiny tire knotlettes.

Vito D., a long-time collabator down from the Asheville area, caressed the warming air with his Strange Little Folk music. I bobbed and I flit, and at an increasing clip-someone must have opened the faucet a bit....for soon I was swooning, I just about lost it! As the evening progressed, to my delight and amazement, 'family' from Durham, Chapel Hill, Pittsboro, Hillsboro, Siler City, Asheville, and Fresno all made it! From the Cohn Clan to the Steudel Clan to the CFS Clan; from the WWC Clan to the Duke Ac Pub Clan to the SAF Clan; from the Bike Shop Clan to the Ninth St. Clan to the Scrap Clan... and every one in between, guys, they were all appearing before my stunned, blinking eyes. While I spun and I splayed, Vito now played-CHURNED- up a torrent of gritty ditties; while a staff volunteer (Brandon's a photographer, I swear) whipped up pitchers of Mango Lassies. And The 'Scrap Exchange girls' worked the door, the counter, and the floor, going "cha-CHING!", cha-CHING!","cha-CHING!".!.



By the end of the night, hundreds of friends, acquaintances and had-been-strangers had poured in, poured over the work, and partaken in, what was for me and my art, a monumental communal feast. And on top of it all, I got to place many of my preemies in hands that I love and trust, and in several instances, hands that fit them like gloves. What a privilage to be able to connect with people this way. Heading into the turbid seas of small business, I can confidently say that if I drown tomorrow, I am at least blessed today with the memory of (as Vito later put it) one authentically good Durham night.



Thanks to all of you who were there; in body and/or spirit.





Reclaimed-wood Builder and Reptire Collector Howard Staab enjoying magwi knot at the Scrap Exchange

Reclaimed-wood Builder and Reptire Collector Howard Staab enjoying magwi knot at the Scrap Exchange
I can't think of anything more rewarding for an artist than to see someone interacting with their artwork. Photo by Laxmi Haynes

Sammy and Dannette contemplate

Sammy and Dannette contemplate
Photograph by Laxmi Haynes

Cascade Colony of Knotlets

Cascade Colony of Knotlets
They would go with your jacket, would they not Claire?

Laxmi Resplendent

Laxmi Resplendent

Mavis In The Mist

Mavis In The Mist
Photograph by Laxmi Haynes

Tire Amazement

Tire Amazement
Photograph by Edie Cohn

Saturday, July 14, 2012

ENO 2012: GETTING THERE (GOD BLESS DIANE AND HER VAN)



I need to give a special thanks to my good friend Diane Swan, who was sweet enough to lend me her work van (that she uses to deliver and install her gorgeous cabinetry).


I met Diane while working on the Pittsboro Community Mural Project, which Diane co- spearheaded with youth counselor/story teller Suzanne Robinson in around 2008. Very true to this community oriented project’s purpose, like a vertical watering hole of creativity, the mural brought together at its surface Chatham County artists young and old, and there on the scaffolding, and in classrooms, Chatham County bonds (East, West, North and South, African American, Latina and Anglo, Junior High to Senior Citizen) were formed that last to this day.
One of the many very special friendships that I personally formed there at the mural was Diane, and over the years since then, she has become a stedfast friend in so many ways.
Diane, and her partner Scotty Young, are some of the most giving people that I have ever met, and have been a real blessing to me in my life in Chatham County. 


Diane has actually lent me her wonderful red Chevy van for several important occasions, when I need to deliver big celebrity Tyrius the (50ft) Tire Worm to events, and my little Toyota camry just wont squeeze him.  One example is Reuse Conex, the US’s first National Conference and Expo, where Tyrius performed a series of asanas (yoga poses), inspired by the idea of Reuse, in the hotel lobby of the North Raleigh Marriot.

Photograph by William Denton
She also lent me her van to deliver Tyrius to the Festival for the Eno last year, where Tyrius joined Orange County Solid Waste’s menagerie of other scrap animals by such noted sculptors as Bryant Holsenbeck, and Helen Buskol and Janey

This old chevy van reminds me of my dear old love, Sophia, now a home to wren’s at Bobby Tucker’s Offuski Farm.  However, Diane’s van hosts a lux red interior, which really gives Tyrius, and all his little cousins a boost of rockstar glamour when we pack in and pull up.

PACKING STRATEGY
In years previous, packing this van with tyrius, my booth tent, walls, pedestals and various sculptures has been a bit of a challenge, because, well, the big guy kind of hogs a lot of the space!... Therefor, I usually must resort to packing Tyrius, in three long sections, with various tire sculpture, creating, in essence, a van packed with three giant tire sausages. Opening the doors upon arrival is kind of akin to cracking open a can of Vienna sausages!

Well, this year, since I didn’t have big Tyrius dominating the space, I was able to be a little bit more orderly in my packing strategy, and to honest, sorry big guy, this was kind of a relief.

My strategy was simple, pack all of the supporting materials in the back, such as long bamboo tent poles etc., where they could easily be pulled out.


Then through the side door, pack all of my merchandise, right behind me in the drivers seat, so I could keep an eye on it all. Because a lot of my cargo was delicate tropical plants this year, I didn’t want to worry about things falling on them and crushing them.
I was even able to rig up a bungy cord to the seat belt, so that that a tall drucenia behind the passenger’s seat would stay standing in his ‘seat’. So this system proved effective n keeping me plants safe, and me sane.


The next day, the van faithfully delivered us to West Point on the Eno, where I found myself at home sweet home, under that shady tree down by the river.