DUDES RELATIN' TO PETTIBON
much art takes you somewhere. You say, 'OK, I am going to
look at this art, I'm going to follow this art and it's
going to lead me to its destination that this artist has
desired for me. The thing about Raymond Pettibon's work
is that there is no way to do that. No two people are going
to read one of these drawings and connect it with the image
in the same way that I would. It's an open door. It's almost
like the missing link is the person buying or looking at
the work." -- Ann
Temkin, curator of an exhibit
at the Philadelphia Museum of Art celebrating 20 years of
Mr. Pettibon's work
will notice that the images which accompany this article
are not the ones described. This way you, the reader, can
be the "missing link" for pictures of your very
own! You too can be the "dude(tte) relatin' to pettibon.")
The apartment of Matt Silcock. He is sitting at his kitchen
table; to his left is the notorious music critic, experimental
writer, and bon vivant Bradley Sonder. In front of them
is an impressive 992-page book called Raymond Pettibon:
The Books 1978-98, as published by Distributed Art Publishers,
New York. Their conversation has not been edited.
SILCOCK: Okay, so...the recorder's on, and I'm just gonna
flip through the book randomly and pick out pictures, and
basically, we'll try to, quote, fill in the back story.
BRAD SONDER: Okay.
[Picture: A man with a terrified look, his hands and
face seemingly pressed against glass. Text: "I watched Los
Angeles, that wicked town, disappear." "You could see the
Hollywood sign. You could see into every bedroom."]
MS: Well this is like a nuclear war scenario….
BS: Yeah, I picture him up in the Hollywood Hills, being
held by some super-villian, watching L.A. burn….well I guess
it could just be full-scale city-wide riots….like people
looting and burning down in the L.A. basin….
MS: Oh waitaminnit, if he says 'you could see the Hollywood
sign' he probably wouldn't be in the Hollywood hills.
BS: That's true….you'd have to be down on the basin looking
up to see it….
MS: Maybe he'd be in Baldwin Hills….
BS: Where's that?
MS: It's like south of Venice Boulevard…if you're driving
down Venice Boulevard towards the ocean, and look left,
you can see where it gets somewhat hilly again…just….east
of Culver City I believe. It's south central L.A. I think
it's an affluent black neighborhood…but it's like directly
south of the Hollywood Hills, so from Baldwin Hills you'd
be looking straight across the basin at the Hollywood sign
- it's pretty far, though…I'm not sure you could see it.
Especially not with the smog.
BS: Well, Pettibon was from South L.A., he lived down by
MS: Hermosa Beach, actually…
BS: Yeah, well that's where all the SST stuff was, with
their offices in Lawndale, and Hawthorne seems to get mentioned
a lot, and I think Spot's studio was in Hermosa Beach.…
MS: And Watt livin' in San Pedro…
BS: Yeah, way south….
MS: But anyway, I don't know about the riots concept, because
it says "you could see into every bedroom." That sounds
more like the light from a nuclear explosion.
BS: Well, it could be a…super-hyper-noir Pettibon-type exaggeration…used
to describe looting and burning.
MS: Well, I'm thinking of more like…Kiss Me Deadly…the
end scene there, where it goes suddenly from noir into some
weird apocalyptic science fiction…
BS: Yeah, that scene is scary…it's funny because the explosion,
if you really look at it, doesn't necessarily seem all that
big…that shot where Ralph Meeker and…oh what's her name….Velda
MS: The secretary?
BS: Was that what she was? His secretary?
MS: Well…[both laugh]…she looked good in a leotard…
BS: Yes she did. But when they go running away, down the
beach, it seems like they're gonna get away from the explosion,
like it's gonna destroy the house but it doesn't look that
MS: Hmm…yeah, but maybe it's some hideously radioactive
bomb….I mean it's not scary for how it's executed so much
as the idea of it is scary, the way that idea comes so suddenly
at the end of this long and confusing movie.
BS: Yeah, the movie's about the bomb. "The great whatsit!"
MS: Nuclear technology.
BS: Yep. Okay, find another one.
A naked woman, in an off-kilter posture, frowning, though
her face above the mouth is sharply caught off by Pettibon's
panel. In the background are palm trees and a surfboard.
Text: "Island Lull." "They tied her up and did their thing,
and that was another surf story." "And it was retold, and
retold, and retold, with other girls. Until it became part
of the island's mores." "And lost its flavor."]
MS: Wow, great style of deadpan hardboiled narration.
BS: Yeah, that pause between "island's mores" and the last
line - is that a Mickey Spillane type thing?
MS: I don't know, I've never read more than about three
sentences of Mickey Spillane, and that was standing in the
aisle at the library.
BS: I haven't read any. But that prose, it's like Hemingway…meets
MS: Hemingway meets Jack Webb.
BS: Was that his name?
MS: Yeah, in Dragnet, that was the main cop's name.
The narrator. Or maybe that was the actor's name...the cop
was named...something....I wanna say Friday...
BS: Dude, I don't know.
MS: Well that's a pretty stupid tangent anyway. The point
is...yeah. Dragnet-esque, Chandler-esque, Mike Hammer-esque.
BS: I think noir-esque is the proper term. [some laughter,
and then a moment of contemplation] This picture also
alludes to rape, which comes up...you know...a fair amount
MS: Well, I don't think he's alluding to it here, I think
he's referring to it outright. "They tied her up and did
MS: But the subject matter combined with the Dragnet-style
hard-boiled narration gives it that….tabloid sensationalistic
comic tone. I mean, it's evil. The title "Island Lull,"
sounds like the title for some ridiculous Z-grade drive-in
movie. It's like the allusions to rape that would come up
in those movies, where some island maiden gets carried off
in a canoe by some rival islanders.
BS: Well...actually "they tied her up and did their
thing" is the kind of, as you say, outright mention
of rape that would happen on like page 123 of a Chandler
book, or as an aside on page 57 of the script for some low-budget
1950s movie. Pettibon's doing the work, finding these mentions
of things unspeakable, on back pages of books you can get
at every supermarket, and taking away that context of 'entertainment'
that makes the mentions tabloid-like and dismissable and
makes consumers cynical. It's the whole art thing, to recontextualize,
to make it new, so that we can still think original thoughts.
BS: But I was also gonna say, I
think you can look at every single thing Pettibon does as
comedy. Satire. An extremely arch parody of noir. Almost
like Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid…
MS: Sometimes...but Pettibon also keeps the element of gravity,
of seriousness - I always think of that one drawing of his
that shows a guy…on his deathbed I guess, saying "I don't
want to see a priest. If I'm going to confess my sins, I
need to see my son." To me that's just straight heartbreaking
drama, nothing ironic or distanced about it. Other times
he's got that archness...that vicious irony, so vicious
that it snaps you out of it, like you were saying. It's
violent, and the themes in the text and images themselves
there's always elements of abuse and terror running through
it…kind of an 'evil that men do' sorta thing….which brings
it back to noir. But it's not just 50s noir...it's neo-noir.
BS: Ha ha…
MS: Say that three times fast. 'Neo-noir, neo-noir, neo-noir.'
Hmm. Not that hard. But yeah, 'cause he goes into hippies
and Vietnam and draws people and situations that are from
the 70s and maybe even 80s….
BS: The gay punk stuff….
MS: Yeah, of course, that's totally the 80s…
BS: Pettibon's milieu…
MS: …that one book with the "Black Flag sucks!" drawing….
BS: Yeah, but then he turns around and does all these Capone-era
Chandler-era noir drawings too, guys with fedoras on and
stuff….a milieu from 40 years before.
MS: Yeah…in a way it's just like more comedy. This beach-bum
artist hanging out among the L.A. punk scene, identifying
with fedora-wearing prohibition-era gangsters.
BS: Pick another one. Oh, are those Nelson Tarpenny? [A
drawing by Pettibon's young nephew and sometime collaborator,
Nelson Tarpenny. A very crude haloed figure with arms outstretched
(is it a deformed Christ-child on an invisible cross?),
the text above it a thickly scrawled "I will get you yet!"]
Nelson Tarpenny freaks me out.
MS: I know. In the introduction to this book it describes
the process of the Nelson Tarpenny stuff. Unfortunately,
the introduction really sucks, so it's pretty vague about
it, but you get the idea that Pettibon would tell Nelson
what text to write on there. He'd have Nelson write it,
for that authentic art brut look, but he would dictate it
to him. I think in some cases he would dictate the line
first, and then Nelson would draw a picture that the words
made him think of.
MS: There's a lot more Nelson Tarpenny in here….I wonder
what's he doing now…I think I figured it out, he'd be 17
or maybe even in his twenties now…here, we'll take a quick
break while I figure that out [he flips to the intro]
It's so ridiculous to try and find any actual information
in this intro…this guy is just insufferable…
BS: Who is it?
MS: Roberto Ohrt.
BS: Hmmm…how did he get to do this?
MS: I don't know. I guess he got the right masters degree.
The collection itself is beautiful, but the intro is just
76 pages of insufferable postmodern theory with maybe a
cumulative 2 pages of insight and information. It really
is over 70 pages long, and it realIy does communicate almost
absolutely nothing. It would be better, but I think Ohrt
is a Spanish guy, and it really feels like he's writing
English as a second language….I mean, it's verbose, flowery
stuff, but it just never really seems to complete its own
thoughts and logic.
BS: Hmmm…is that what makes it postmodern?
MS: If that's what it takes, I'll stick with modern. Anyway….okay,
it says that he first contributed a drawing when he was
four…ha ha, here he calls him "Master Nelson Tarpenny."
BS: [With some incredulity] What?
MS: I don't know…I think he's credited that way on some
of the books…
BS: There's that Pettibon archness again…
MS: Yep, another joke….but I'm tryin' to see what year that
would've been, to figure out how old he is now…actually,
in the back, in the 'Catalogue Raisonne', it's got all the
covers and little descriptions…
BS: Oh, I see…
MS: I'm just lookin' for his name on one of these covers….or
no, on the accompanying list…[pause]...okay, here's
his first credit, on The Bible, The Bottle, and The Bomb,
from 1984….so if he was four then, that would make him…
MS: Yep. Old enough to be in a punk band.
BS: Or a drug addict.
MS: Or both. No, it makes you wonder though….like some of
the Tarpenny drawings have drug and sex themes…it reminds
me of Robert Downey Sr. offering a joint to little Robbie…
BS: Though it doesn't really say what kind of drugs Pettibon
was into, or if he was using drugs at all…
MS: The way he writes about it, it really seems like he
was in the drug scene…and maybe the reason he works in such
a short fragmented form is because drugs killed his ability
to write long-form….it killed his attention span, his focus….but
he's still able to write brilliant phrases, with a great
ear for speech…and with a sort of half-remembered-in-a-dream
approach to the literary canon, where the Hemingway and
Fitzgerald get mixed up with the crime novels and comic
BS: Or maybe he knows all about it because his friends were
into drugs….I mean, there was tons of acid in the SST scene….and
Greg Ginn, who is Raymond Pettibon's brother, is notorious
for being a pothead. Hell, maybe Nelson Tarpenny is Greg
Ginn's son! It says he's Pettibon's nephew…
MS: Hmm, could be. Though I never heard of Greg Ginn being
BS: Yeah, but did you ever hear that he wasn't a father?
MS: Well no, but I can tell you one thing: he's the father
of D.I.Y. hardcore!
BS: Amen to that. [Now thumbing through the back index.]
What's this, "of which some 400 were destroyed"?
MS: Yeah, it says that for about ten different books. In
the intro, again, it's really vague, but it says something
about it being because of storage limitations…but, I can't
remember for sure, but I think it also sort of vaguely hints
at some sort of personal problems….or maybe not, I shouldn't
say that when I don't for sure. Again, I'd look it up but
this intro is so dense and vague it wouldn't be worth it.
BS: Gotta keep that Pettibon mystique alive. Can't give
away too much information.
I think of one of the funniest arch-ironic Pettibon jokes….[thumbing
through book]….is….here. In To Illustrate and Multiply:
An Open Book, which isn't a typical Pettibon book, in
that it's got all this found art, collage-type stuff…
BS: Well, it's just outright appropriation more so than
MS: True…or a sort of detournement….
MS: But anyway, here's what Pettibon put on the inside back
BS: [reading from the page in question] "To the landscape
artists of England, this work is respectfully dedicated
by their sincere admirer, the author." Ha ha….just some
page torn out of a stuffy old library book…
MS: He's just a smartass!
BS: So this is the back cover of To Illustrate and Multiply.
[reading] "The question on which the whole work rests."
MS: Not sure what that means.
BS: Nope. Just some pseudo-academia…pseudo-portentiousness….
MS: Now there's a subgenre…the pseudo-portentiousness subgenre…okay,
now this book, it's one of the Tripping Corpse series…Tripping
Corpse 12...previously unpublished! Anyway, it just
lays waste to all the hippie nightmare cliches….all the
'visionary' hippie drivel, the Mansonoid cosmic raps….some
of it's pretty scary, but again, it's mostly just very,
very hilarious black comic parody….
BS: Are those the ones with all the bloody severed limbs
in the background?
MS: Yeah, some evil hippie holding a bloody arm or something
with a vicous grin on his
BS: Pettibon can draw the evil hippie like no one else.
MS: But some of these lines….they're the perfect evil hippie
comedy lines…and they get funnier the more you read them….like,
"I killed her because she was Virgo!" Or like this, "It
wasn't like this at all at first. It was beautiful, last
week, when we started this commune."
BS: [looking at drawing, of two scary, laughing hippies,
one naked, the other one holding a blood-spattered knife]
MS: Now I've got this book here, that has a quote from Bobby
BS: The Manson family Kenneth Anger murderer guy?
MS: Yep. Actually, the book is Waiting for the Sun,
which is by Barney Hoskyns, about the history of the L.A.
music scene, and the Beausoleil quote is an epigram for
a chapter, and it's in turn a quote from a Truman Capote
book, Music for Chameleons, from an interview between
Capote and Beausoleil, and Capote asks him [reading]
"If you weren't here," meaning prison, I would
assume, "and you could be anywhere you wanted to be,
doing anything you wanted to do, where would you be and
what would you be doing?" And Beausoleil's response
is pure Pettibon. I mean, Pettibon, even in 'ridiculous'
mode, could not have written it any better. Are you ready?
BS: I'm ready!
MS: Beausoleil's response is..."Tripping. Out on my
Honda chugging along the Coast road, the fast curves, the
waves and the water, plenty of sun. Out of San Fran, heading
Mendocino way, riding through the redwoods. I'd be making
love. I'd be on the beach by a bonfire making love. I'd
be making music and balling and sucking some great Acapulco
weed and watching the sun go down. Throw some driftwood
on the fire. Good gash, good hash, just tripping right along..."
BS: Ha ha. "Good times and great hash." It does
sound kinda nice...if you leave out the part where you commit
murders. Which he did.
MS: Isn't that total Pettibon?
BS: Oh yeah. I think that's the secret influence right there.
MS: Well he's probably read the Capote book. The legend
is that he's read everything. In this interview online he's
talking about reading Christopher Marlowe.
BS: Now that's dedication.
MS: [flipping pages] I wanna find one of my favorite
hippie ones...okay, this is a hilarious, and well-written,
line. [reading] "Don't worry, man. I put more time
into learning to fly than I did into even learning guitar…And
I'm not that high." [picture of two long-hairs in the
cockpit of an airborne propeller plane, with naked tree
branches dangerously close in the foreground - both laugh]
BS: That is good. Man….those photocopied bits at the top
and bottom of the drawings are really amazing…
MS: Yes, that shit is amazing….that's what makes Pettibon
a collage artist, or a cut-up artist…I mean he's doing Burroughs
'n' Gysin shit without the sort of coffee-house affectedness
that most imitators do it with…
BS: Well, it's probably not an imitation. He just sort of
did it without thinking about it, and then realized it was
of course Burroughs-esque, but he didn't care, because he'd
stumbled on it on his own, and he knew how to keep doing
it in his own way.
MS: Read some of those out loud….
BS: "Orgies are something I really dig. I don't even have
to join in on the fun, because the acid makes the scene
wild. I remember the third time I dropped acid there were
about eight people in the room with me and we were all naked."
MS: See, that's another influence on Pettibon, another voice
that he can perfectly cop. Hippie-era smut mags.
BS: Is that what these are from?
MS: Probably…it seems like he used old pages from hippie
smut-mags for paste-up, y'know, he just pasted one of his
drawings over a hippie smut mag and then photocopied the
whole thing, so some of the text from the magazine made
it into the final xerox, at the top and bottom. So yeah,
if that's not 'the cut-up method', I don't know what is.
Again, the introduction vaguely alludes to how that stuff
in the margins got there, but not enough so that we might
actually know what's going on.
BS: Oh jeez…this one… "Once the acid had taken effect, I
was wandering around the house watching the bodies rising
and falling, surrounded with the grooviest colors you can
imagine, when a voice called me, telling me they needed
MS: Yeah, that's what I mean, total smut mags. It's like
the Penthouse Forum meets Reefer Madness.
BS: "Grass turns some chicks on and it had done so to the
twins, so that when I joined them on the bed they didn't
mind it a bit."
MS: Yeah, well, Pettibon is definitely doing like a John
Waters thing and spitting out all the sin and trash and
tackiness and crassness and gleeful moral decline of American
culture. Like a baby being fed something it doesn't like,
it just spits it back out…
BS: And like us, Pettibon is a thirtysomething, fortysomething
adult male who is living the childlike existence of the
artist. So he still gets away with spitting his food out
when it tastes bad. But at the same time, I think he likes
the trash somewhat too…
MS: Yeah, well, sex and murder sell, and he's got a reverence
for the lilt of the dialogue, and for the sudden shifts
in tone and subject matter that go with that sort of tabloid
newstand screaming-headline approach.
BS: Or with comics.
MS: Or hard-boiled crime novels.
BS: It's a love-hate relationship with the culture. It disgusts
him, but it also nurtured him, he's a frickin' American,
he can't deny it, so he turns it into art…
MS: A reflection of culture. A hard look into the mirror.
The frozen moment when you see what's on the end of your
MS: Man...okay, here's "The Acid Trials" by Mike
Watt...[flipping through pages] a handwritten journal
of his acid trip as it's happening to him...[flips through
the journal, the handwriting becoming more and more jagged
and sparse, soon regressing into abstract scrawls and doodles]
BS: Okay, that's kinda funny...it's like that ad, have you
seen it, where the same sentence is written again and again
down a page, each time after the writer has consumed another
MS: Yes, I have seen that, and it gets extremely sloppy.
BS: Well, he makes it to something like 12 drinks, so it's
understandable...I don't know, this thing...I mean, even
when you're on acid, wouldn't you still be aware that you
were going...[he mimes a guy on acid with a wild blank
look in the eye, drawing theoretical abstract scrawls and
doodles on theoretical paper in front of him]...even
if you're really fucked up, you'd still be aware you were
MS: I don't know...you can get pretty fucked up...
BS: Well, no, I mean I've been...obliviated? Obliterated!
Definitely obliterated. If I'd been keeping a journal some
of the times I've been drunk, it would probably be worse
than Mike Watt's. Forget acid...drink 12 screwdrivers, and
I'll be drawing squiggles on the frickin' refrigerator.
MS: [flipping pages, reading] Oh, this is cool...I
didn't get this at first...
BS: [looking at picture, reading the text out loud]
"Do you want to hear the story to that room
MS: I was reading the sentence wrong until I looked at the
picture. [Picture is of a man, looking down, in front
of a neon vacancy sign.]
BS: Oh, okay. That is cool. I suppose the speaker is off...camera,
he's the hotel desk clerk, and he's leading this sad-sack
kinda guy, pictured, up some stairs to his room. Furtive,
anonymous scenes in lower middle class motels are very noir.
MS: "Do you want to hear the story to that room first?"
That's good, "...the story to that room..."
Pettibon's ear for American casual talk. [flipping pages]
Okay, here's a good example of fedora noir...Capone noir...
BS: Sinatra noir...[picture: a man in a fedora and 3-piece
suit in the foreground, facing the viewer, holding out a
hand as if he is talking and making a point; behind him
stands an ominous crony, in a fedora, 3-piece suit, and
sunglasses. Text: "It was as if she had become pinched,
shrivelled, blue with cold, shivering, suppliant."
"'You don't live in a Johnny Mercer song, sister. Not
with me.' And at the sound of Frankie's voice, heavy, male,
coming from that thin chest, in the night, with the blackness
behind him, she felt as if her spirit bowed before him,
with folded hands." "He's drunk, she said. He
wouldn't say that."]
MS: This is from when he was starting to put lots of text
on his drawings. But it's not like things got explained
any further...if anything they were easier to understand
when the text was more minimal...
BS: Well yeah, your imagination has less to go on so it
doesn't invent all these distracting scenarios...this one's
MS: "You don't live in a Johnny Mercer song, sister."
It's great how Pettibon has created this form where he can
write a line like that. 'Cause if he was Mickey Spillane
and thought of a line like that, he'd have to write a whole
book in order to use it. But Pettibon has invented this
form where he can write a line like that, this hilarious
campy zinger of a line, and all he has to do is draw one
picture in order to use it.
BS: But with the other text...it really almost becomes like
an epic...this epic frozen moment of...pathos. I guess it
actually is pathos. I don't think I've ever spoken that
word out loud before. But you can see it's this scenario
where some mobster's trophy wife is suffering, and Pettibon
totally feels for her, writing about her in that quasi-religious
tone, describing her like the statue of some martyr saint...."her
spirit bowed with folded hands."
MS: Yeah, and then the last bit, "He's drunk, she said.
He wouldn't say that." That's like someone from outside
the pictured scene, at some later point, commenting back
on it. Referring to the line about Johnny Mercer.
BS: I don't know. I'm a little confused by that one. I like
MS: Man, we've
talked for a long time…this is probably gonna be like a
BS: In Blastitude?
MS: That's what Fuzz-O says….I'm thinking we should maybe
cut it off about now, because it's already gonna take me
hours and hours to transcribe all this…but we didn't really
do what we set out to do, which was try to 'fill in the
back story' for various pictures…
BS: Well, that was just a starting point, to get us talking
about it….relatin' to it.
MS: Right. But I think we should do one more. And then we'll
call it an article.
MS: [Flipping through book.] Oh, here's the "Hey
BS: The one from Double Nickels on a Dime?
MS: Yep….[looking at different pictures] god, now
they just all seem kinda obvious…like what the back story
on 'em is…I mean, they're still really good, but like this
one, "My first hangover in the big city." [picture of
four sullen men, cramped in a jail cell, standing right
at the bars, clutching them]
BS: That's just self-explanatory. A guy gets super drunk
and then wakes up in jail.
MS: Yeah, but he's also a newcomer to the city, 'cause it's
his first hangover in that city, and maybe he's a newcomer
to big cities in general, because it says "the big city,"
which is old noir shorthand for any big city…
BS: Yeah, that's great about Pettibon, because even when
you think you understand the whole thing, there's different
perspectives to glean the more you think about the line.
Like each word adds a little more to the…patina. Does that
MS: Well, that might not quite be the right word, but I
totally know what you mean…like the picture represents an
isolated moment, by necessity, and Pettibon always restricts
himself to one picture, but with the addition of the text
you get a feeling of a before and an after…it sort of expands
outward like a sponge, and then stops like a sponge, because
there's only so much your imagination can supply going off
of one or two lines of text.
BS: It's like each picture/text combination is an exercise
on the limitations of context. An experiment with context.
MS: Yeah, pushing and poking at the way context works, jumbling
up contexts and seeing what they point to then…one way I've
been thinking about his stuff is that it's like taking a
comic book, and isolating one panel, and leaving the picture,
but replacing the text in the caption or word balloon with
the text from five panels before, or two pages later….or
from an entirely different comic book.
BS: Burroughs again.
MS: Yep, of course. Always Burroughs. Detournement too.
[flipping through book] Oh, here's a good one. [picture:
the head and shoulders of a blindfolded man, his head slumped
back, perhaps unconscious, text: "This here is Oak
Lindbergh, ma'am. This is his house."]
BS: Well...it's a guy who got assaulted in his house, perhaps
MS: And the 'ma'am' is a lady cop who's arrived on the scene...
BS: And Oak Lindbergh's friend, or roommate, is the speaker...the
person who discovered the attack on Oak Lindbergh, and then
called the police, and the investigator has just arrived,
and it's a woman.
MS: Which begs the question: what the hell kinda name is
BS: Yes, Pettibon's goofy side again. A sort of Daniel Clowes-ish
MS: Well, I think we should end this before it just gets
ridiculous. But I think it went pretty well. Fuzz'll dig
it. I think there should be a part two. I mean, we really
only talked about maybe 10 pages of this 992-page book.
BS: So there should be 99 installments of this?
MS: Yes, "Dudes Relatin to Pettibon, Part 92. This is Ken
BS: Well of course, you could have a different special guest
MS: Yeah, it'd actually make a pretty good public access
BS: Well yeah, because we are talking about a visual artist.
MS: Yeah, there'd have to be a lot of close-ups on the drawings.
I think it would mostly be just close-ups on the drawings,
with our voice-overs…I'm not really sure how I'm gonna represent
the drawings for Blastitude.
BS: Yeah, I guess you can't really scan these too well…with
the binding the way it is….
MS: Yeah, you'd only get half the image, and the rest would
be totally distorted by the gutter…I think I'm just gonna
describe them with prose, as best as I can…it's not ideal,
but I think it could be adequate….alright, I'm stoppin'
BS: Word. [click; silence]
INTERVIEW WITH RAYMOND PETTIBON
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