Photograph by William Denton |
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.
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.
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
Sammy and Dannette contemplate
Cascade Colony of Knotlets
Laxmi Resplendent
Mavis In The Mist
Tire Amazement
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.
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.