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Being low key and inclement heat brazing over the city this weekend, didn’t stop me from checking the block party thrown by, wait for it…Philly’s #1 art and cultural mag-McJawn(215 mag is ok, for shit we all heard before: the Roots, the police bombing a neighborhood of about 61 houses in North Philly, etc. etc.). Now I only stayed for the length of time it took me to finish a pint, and I was thirstaay…And rightfully sobrownies and heat are no match. For the short time I was there though:

I couldn’t get that Boners All the Time song out of my heads…inspired to see a collective that embraces communities outside of Fishtown and funky hippy town aka parts of West Philly…looking forward to seeing what becomes of McJawn, like I hope they all stay heroin free, and keep progress, because not only does the scene need them, the city benefits from events like theirs too. (215 mag block party?)



Like a prostitute, you never know what you’re going to get with it, but it wasn’t worth the risk this time. So I guess this post could really be titled Whartscape/Artscape 2008: Philly, Titties & Beats 2009:

chilling in front of some ovaries in the 08

chilling in front of some ovaries in the 08

my favorite shitty band of 08

my favorite shitty band of 08

love at first sight it was.

love at first sight it was.

A book. Add in a robe and a pipe, and that would be an all around good look. Perhaps though, that look along with a visage likened to that of Frederick Douglas or just as easy, the chubby one from TOTR, is only how I view being an old head with kids:

role model

All wise looking and shit. Hmm, but I digress, you should get the old man a book…And may I recommend this one:


So you’re thinking your sperm donor wouldn’t bother cracking open a book with such a snazzy cover…Like a, “fuck a Hoegaarden, I’ll go with the Miller Light” type scenario. Well that’s plausible, but it’s also likely that he would give you the “thought that matters” bit with the book back. And if you’ve ever slid into the dingy dive in Philly known as McGlinchey’s; you want this book. If you haven’t :

 Sarah Stolfa was a bartender before she became a photographer. “The Regulars” is a book of the photographs she took of her customers at McGlinchey’s, a hole-in-the-wall bar in Center City, Philadelphia, where she worked for ten years (“or maybe it was eleven, I can’t quite remember,” she writes.) Not all of the peopleare as beautiful as Joanna O’Boyle, pictured on the cover, but all of them capture the strange mix of intimacy and distance that can come with serving drinks. Here, Stolfa writes more about the distance bit:

McGlinchey’s is known for its surly bartenders. How could we be anything else after so many nights of customers vomiting, fighting, screaming, swearing, leaving without tipping, snapping their fingers, or just generally being rude? I was probably one of the surliest, or so I have heard over and over. In my mind I wasn’t paid enough to be your friend or make you feel special. If you wanted that, you needed to go to the fine-dining restaurant around the corner where a beer was $7.00, not under $2.00.

Sounds kind of fun, yet a bit depressing, no? Droves of young, cool low-lifes mixed in with some of the most story baring faces to exist outside of ghettos and such:


Frank 151 is the shit when they’re not outrageously legitimate with articles about animals on the road to extinction. I acknowledge though, making the insignificant significant is not my bag…Or is it the other way around? What’s certain though, is that Magazines are a dying breed and we should all do our part in breathing life into the industry.

Long ago, when I believed in something, I tried starting an indie-inspired zine with a friend. The said friend tried crack once and I wasn’t much help in the zine jumping off either.  

Possibly if I would have applied myself, it would have been something like Deth Kills, not to be confused with the NYC line Deth Killers of Brushwick:

Wow, what a dope fucking way to show fits, but no Deth Kills. Their latest efforts at being overachievers has them hand constructing this cute zine of artist’s proofs called Tester. Check:

Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.

                                                                     -Oscar Wilde

Which I’m sure has much to do with M.I.A receiving the venerable accolade of Time Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People:


But just an afterthought of a villain, that will hopefully materialize into plenty of duckets along with world domination…Create something that peoples will want to mirror!

Anyways, painter Joe Holbrook represents the art imitating life side and I can most definitely dig his perspective, talent, blahblahblah too. Its like art for the peoples such as myself that could care a fuck less about the intrinsic beauty of boobies:joe holbrook looking good

joe holbrook_untitled


joe holbrook_sleeping_beauty

The Internets are loaded with time demolishing shit to knock you off your hustle…If you have no hustle though, peep Hamburger Eyes, I dig it. I mean its no You Porn, but visually audacious nonetheless and might motivate you to do art or move to San Francisco and act like you do.

Vanache…The name Vanache makes me think of this one homeless guy that walks around the city saying, “I could kill someone with my bare hands”. Why I will forever find that phrase more funny than threatening is beyond me. So Vanache’s blog is so thriller and will fuck your head up with cool runnings on a fresh layout, daily. I aspire to be that cool and die young.

And finally, what transforms my life, almost on a daily basis (talk about a good groove):

king britt

Lived Philly this weekend in the manner of an ill-fated artist, not prone to drugs or sex, that was given only one weekend to live. From front to back, North to South, interesting to wtf everI pedaled hard through Philly’s art scene. 75% coherent and pretty attentive I went to go see Cezanne and Beyondan exhibition featuring the work of Paul Cezanne side by side  a sleu of other fine art stalwarts he inspired: Picasso, Mastisse, Ellsworth Kelly,etc:

cezanne and beyond

But damn though, though there was a will, there was no way I could drop the $24 they unexpectedly asked for when I reached the front of the line. Was bummed and so were the peoples:

philly art museum fu.

Although in a turn of events, found an indpendent gallery where the whole get up entailed: a smart use of space, fordward thinking, and free daytime beers and hummus.

color show

south st. gallery


note…the gallery is saint march, also went to the tiberino house “the circus”, but prefer not to take photos of that…should experience it first hand.

Work it out Chicago!