Look What We Have Created

i made this short for PlayGallery.org and U-M's Arts on Earth.
this is Malcolm Tulip's clown class from the University of Michigan.
they don't know what they are doing.
but we are making fun.

"Will Experiment End World?" report from NBC

... but we are still here... for now.

Art Truck; Truck Art :: phase one ¡!

with plenty more to come...

'Paint My Truck' Day

Yeehau! ***Completely Uncensored***

Today, August 12th, is 'Paint My Truck' Day.

Once upon a time long ago there was a 'Paint My Buick' Week, but the Buick has since been dead and buried, mourned and... and Now there is a 'Paint My Truck' Day.

Come to participate with so many others on a crazy adventure for all ages. Contribute to this passionate and driven art.

From 12 Noon til Dusk and beyond, my gorgeous matte black canvas of a truck will be at the Black Elk Co-op at 902 Baldwin, Ann Arbor, MI.

Join. Paint. Be merry, and see Joey, who will not be censoring any of the painting. Paint whatever you like.
just do it.

I love you,
Joey

Did I tell you that I biked 17 miles from Westland to Ann Arbor last Wednesday?

I did.
Seventeen (17) miles.
Half of it down a dirt road.
(Often the gears would lock up. I walked the bike up five hills.)
The ride was a difficult, up-(and sporadically down)-hill, two hour fight.
But I made it.

I stopped for ten minutes on the dirt roadside to eat an apple and stretch.
I took a short nap on the grass when I made it.
I stretched again.
I took a cowboy shower.
Then I worked for seven more hours... on my feet.

Needless to say, I did not bike home.
I was tired, but surprisingly not sore.
I felt good,,, healthy,,, and accomplished.

"green"

the power of suggestion


you see green because
you are led to believe that you are seeing green because
the green that you think you see
is the green that you see
is green because
it is

This short intends to play with the mind's perception of what one is told and led to believe that one sees. Through the power of suggestion, what one sees is green. So ask yourself: Do you see green? Do you believe what you see is green?
I believe it because I shot it. I am telling you that what is shown here is green because it is, but don't take my word for it. Watch it again... more closely.

music: "De Usuahia A La Quiaca" by Gustavo Santaolalla

Save Joey

Like most people, I am motivated when what I do is seen and encouraged.
Unlike most people , I need this motivation.
For some recent time, I (namely, my imagination, which is more important to my survival and personality than my brain and heart) has felt like a dead puppy.

Your mission - whether you choose to accept it or not - is to help bring me puppy back from the dead.
This is not a one person job; it is a community effort...
for all those who care about me, I challenge you to tell me what I could/should/(hell, what you would) do.

Joey needs your help.

New Bio Brief

This is the short artist biography/statement that I am offering online galleries and networking sites that I am joining:

:::
A photographer raised, corrupted, and redefined in Southeast Michigan, Joey has always had an eye for the uncanny, peculiar, and extraordinary characteristics of the typically ordinary. He deconstructs the stories narrated by his imagination, and reconstructs them in the eyes of his camera. The ultimate image paints a perspective one would often never have otherwise seen.

In my own words, I am a pathological observer of my environment and my mind who carefully chooses the moments he shares with the world.
:::

What do you think?

By the way, so far I can be found at...
Saatchi Gallery
Fine Art America
Art Gallery Worldwide
... with more to come soon.

Why Measure Age in Years? ...and who's counting?

It seems that the harder I try to forget my birthday - and how young I am each year - the more people remember it, and try to remember it, and make it a bigger deal than it needs to be. I feel like my birthday's become about the number.

I have a strange fascination in claiming to be 23 years old (or young.) After all, it was a great age to be. While it's all in good fun, some I know are put off by this as if I were playing a game reserved for older women,,, or somehow, staying young.

I do retain immature features -- a "baby face," clumsiness, a youthful sense of humor... and for those who know me well, often enough a sense of behavior close to half my actual age. Yet I can be a growed up when I so chose. Hell, I can often volunteer to play the selfless leader. (shameless plug of pride) See. Maturity at work, right?

I want all of you to know: while I am a man with fears - some of which I can admit and others I hide - I am not afraid to age. In fact, I relish in earning wrinkles, gaining wisdom, and counting days until something else happens. I cannot wait to turn 50. I cannot wait to tell grandchildren stories. I enjoy living, growing, aging...

To be quite honest, I think it's the waiting that seems to bother me. When life is moving slow, when there is little going on - eventlessness - I tend to notice that I'm getting older.. and without doing something, or being productive, or earning the life I've been offered.
Because, after all, time is not money, it's priceless.
And I feel I need to make the most of it all.
I ought to earn my hours and my breaths. Oughtn't I?

Who's counting years anyway? I'd rather my age be counted in good deeds,, in which case, I'm relatively old.
Maybe in the thousands of deeds... perhaps a million deeds old.

Sixteen Hour Film Shoots Make My Muscles Cry

physically exhaiste
mentaly exhausted
emotively exhaieist
my feet hurt
my nose hurt
my thy hurt
my ankle hurt
my butt hurt
my arm-
my self hurt, and my soul hert
beguin 1230 -> end 430 (leave home 12noon -> come home 5AM)
my muscles cry all day uintil there id nothing left in thie weeping glands...
ill tri harder next time , poppy
love joey

This Is Where I Go

One Firework Experiment

I don't know why it took me eleven days to post it. Maybe I just had to think about it for a while. But this is what happened the first time I tried to photograph a firework.

It's a little messy, but in a way that makes you want to play with it...
like finger paint.