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, August 6, 2011

Gimme Cat Beat


So Amos, the Alley Cat, is quickly acclimating to the life of a Tire Studio Artist, how about that.

He's slowly made his way up the stairs, to the landing, which he lounges around on. He acts as if he has died, and now has his own Valhala in the sky, which in many ways he does. He is now a mountain cat, of the High Shteps of Downtown Siler City... and as far as I can tell, he loves it!

And I have been enjoying his company too. Sometimes, I'll come home, and after calling for him, I will hear a rustling coming from the giant heap of tires I keep in an old cart by the door. A few moments later emerges from this blackened hive, a sleepy headed Tire Kitten, ready to gingerly greet me, get fed some food and a little love. What more could a guy ask for?


Amos lounging in his Tire Lair...



Tonight, I decided to introduce him to the drumset, and learned something a little kinda interesting..
I had been playing, and to my suprise this ussually doesn't send him scampering off, as one would think.

In fact, while I was jamming out,  I had looked down, and there he was, at the base of my stool, hanging out.
I reached down and scooped him up, and set him on my right (kickdrum) knee. I tapped the floor tom, and even set him on it, and tapped it, and let him feel the vibes. I'll made a drummer out of this cat, I thought, after my friend Vito, who made sure that his son, little Joshua Sparrow, got a good dose of African Drums in eutero, at the ADF, good forsite from a rhythm loving father I thought.

Well, I don't know what Joshua thought, but Amos seemed pretty non-plused. More than anything, really just utterly puzzled. I moved him back on to my leg, tapped the cymbals, to snare, the high hat, all seemed to arouse suspicion in the little cat. Finally, I started playing a little beat, with a soft touch on the ride cymbal, and a soft boom-Boom on the bass drum...and no sooner had I struck that double beat "boomBOOM", the little cat instantly settled down right in on my leg, sort of flopped over on his side, and strarted purring like a lawnmower!
There we sat for a few minutes, boomBoom, boomBoom, boomBoom. I could tell he didn't want me to stop...so I just held it steady for him for a while.
I guess a cat CAN appreciate the drums. Who knew?! Reminded me of what they can do for people also.


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