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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )

Archive for May, 2008


Thursday, May 22nd, 2008

advert – foto by smith

it was freeing in 2006 to sell the studio and give away all our possessions except for what we could carry in our backpacks. (not totally true – we still have some of our art in self storage.) it was a gift being near possessionless. stuff weighs you down, stufflessness allows you to soar.

now, we’re getting more stuff. had a mattress delivered today. bought a used refrigerator the other day. tables, shelves, a futon for guests, dishes, clothes. life is becoming more complex, cluttered – and more comfortable.

The Man keeps knocking down my front door
Wants to sell me some sorta social spore
Says grits & groceries ain’t enough
In the modern life you need much more stuff

political graffiti – foto by smith


the inventor of recycled neon art

Wednesday, May 21st, 2008

found neon sculpture by jeff chiplis – foto by lady k

humans aren’t my favorite people, but Chiplis is okay. i’ve no proof he’s actually human, but if he is, he’s one of the good ones.

Chiplis is the proprietor of the Fairy Tale Love Shack Out Back, a very small 2 room house where Lady and i lived for 6 weeks before leaving the country the 1st time, and for 10 weeks before we left the country the 2nd time. the shower was in the kitchen between the fridge and stove.

our friend had us read at his Razzle Dazzle art closing right after we got back to cleveland after 14 months overseas.

found neon sculpture by jeff chiplis – foto by smith

The New York Times calls Jeff Chiplis the inventor of recycled neon art – (click here), and he was reviewed in Art in America – (click here).

here’s 3 shots of his work from 2006 and 2007. there’s another 27 fotos of his recent work on my art site at (click here)

found neon sculpture by jeff chiplis – foto by chiplis


long time smith

Tuesday, May 20th, 2008

last night – foto by smith

lady’s speaking rapid spanish to everyone. i stand mute, in ignorance. part of it is she’s a language freak and knows enough french to apply its similarities to spanish. plus she studies, and i don’t.

lady is still becoming lady. i’ve been smith a long time.

dinner lady – foto by smith


woman from the elf wood

Monday, May 19th, 2008

graffiti – foto by smith

“Theater is life. Film is art. Television is furniture.” – unknown

i tell Lady she’s weird. “I’m not weird,” she insists. “you’re so weird you’re from way inside Weird Wold in the Elf Wood. you’re weird. weird. weird.” she smiles.

mask in hat – foto by smith



Sunday, May 18th, 2008

My Favorite Monster by Mother Dwarf Smith


Imagine a tarot card picturing an atomic explosion
as powerful and nostalgic as a Coke logo
the mandalic repetition of anachronistic mythologies
omens bloom, snakes hang limp and laced in the prickers of glorious flowers
like robbers hovering over lovers in the night

I’m aplomb in wonder under sunk sun on a rooftop in Africa
Wide wing terradactyl stork pulls himself big o’er my head,
bird calls like static discharge, prehistoric ions in the ear
stork hurries home to roost mosque roof
he nests the purpling sky
tucks wing in stick,
leg up, lid eye

In the mosque, strangers on stairwells, steps in moiré dimensionality
old city womb rooms, pin light window shadows huddle and elongate
in yellow lit private liquid mystery of foreign habits
what is the gestalt of the is that they be?

At the top of the end of the world,
Everything beckons and is remembered
I swoon my crotch through Japanese silk,
groan for cum puddles, fingers musked in want for yours
I be broken flower in the palm of your ham hand
You’re King Kong Gohonzon and I’m your crooked lady


smith 1976


el mundo

Sunday, May 18th, 2008

36 x 20 inch table top – El Mundo (the world) – foto & collage by smith

i figured out how to save the world from greed and global warming – we can use the Heisenbergian Maneuver.

in the Heisenberg Universe, all things are true all at the same time. like the cat in the box with a bottle of poison and a decaying atom – the cat is alive and it’s dead and it’s all the places in-between until we ask the universe “is the cat dead or is the cat alive?” and reality collapses the cat into a yes or a no just to answer our question. so our curiosity can kill the cat.

we see what we look for, we get what we ask, we receive the answer we seek.

so all we have to do is change the way the world mind thinks. have everyone think things like no more greed, no more need, share, help, enable, consider, listen, care, feel, think, hope, help. global tribe in global village.

in essence – don’t worry, be happy, and reality will follow.

the only flaw in the ointment here is we gotta get everyone on earth all on the same page all at the same times for this to work, and that includes all the bad guys. i don’t know about you, but i don’t think the bad guys are really interested in helping.

speaking of the world, i finished collaging my 36 x 20 inch table top – call it El Mundo (the World). and since most the world doesn’t use inches, it’s 51 x 92 centimeters as well. sounds like a much larger piece outside the u.s.of.a.

36 x 20 inch table top – El Mundo (the world) – foto & collage by smith

51 x 92 centimeter table top – El Mundo (the world) – foto & collage by smith

36 x 20 inch table top – El Mundo (the world) – foto & collage by smith

51 x 92 centimeter table top – El Mundo (the world) – foto & collage by smith


priming the flesh pump

Saturday, May 17th, 2008

carved wood mermaid in food store – foto by smith

in an unpleasantly large very american box food store here i saw a pudgy 8 year old boy stop in front of a carved wooden mermaid with humongous breasts and ass wearing a thong. her ass was human, her lower legs and feet fish – made me wonder exactly how she got the thong on

the boy slowly ran his fingers over her breasts and ass, a dreamy look on his face. he ended using both hands to rub both her nipples. maybe puberty’s coming earlier these days, or maybe he’s just sexually precocious, but it was one of those odd, slightly uncomfortable forbidden moments.

what’s truly bizarre is the mermaid ain’t for sale – she and a carved wooden ape are eye candy to attract you to a food tasting table.

i blame it all on TV priming the flesh pump.

health pamphlet illustration – foto by smith



Friday, May 16th, 2008


They used to say, “You’re getting two presidents for the price of one.” They used to say, “I didn’t know who was going to run first, Hill, or Bill.” What they meant is that Hillary is a real game player.

I ponder Hillary’s humiliated heart. It hurt so bad. She had a pretty face way back when, except when it was manipulated in the tabloids. She had large dark eyebrows and soccer mom streaked hair. Rush Limbaugh tried to get her and her little girl, too. I liked her.

Hillary Clinton became a new woman. I don’t know who this woman is and I don’t understand the bait coming from her mouth. Perhaps the process of sticking with Power, with Bill, made her face into a mask, a metaphor. Senate cemented the mask, and her hair turned into a helmet. Except in good lighting, or after Botox treatments, or after she has a good week of healthy lifestyle exercise, her face is fraught, lead, sodden. It is pitted and lined and pancaked with error. Her voice grates with hateful false pragmatism for the benefit of the lowest unnuanced denominator. She wears too much blue and too many Future suits. She looks like a darling fascist Mother America, the bad villain in a poorly written movie that just won’t end. Her smile luminesces little pearls in the photo above the story reporting an income of a hundred mill. O, Momma, what happened to your face?

In Fantasy Pipe Dream World, I imagine Hillary Clinton playing yet a different part. I imagine her pulling herself out of the global corporate ambition bootstraps into a brand new She being. This Hillary Clinton would say, “Shucks, I was just kidding when I politicked with racist inuendo. I just had to play a part, you see, for the corporate sponsorship. But now I got their money, I’m gonna forget them, and I’m gonna be true to you.”

How did everything go bad? It’s because the Game is a centrifuge. Only Players of the Game have access to power. Power gives Money money, Money gives Power power, and Power takes money from you and me. And Power gives power to Power, taking power from you and me. Ego is a failing star.



united mutants of smith

Friday, May 16th, 2008

a smith – foto by smith

Lady says “I love you too.”

i whine, only two? which two of me do you love?

“How many of you you got in there?”

so i tell her some of the many me’s that make up the United Mutants of Smith:

eternal child
story teller
and a strange “other” or two . . .

those are just the smiths that come immediately to mind. so, which 2 do you love?

“Adventurer and clown,” she immediately answers.

as for Lady, she’s every single 1940’s female star rolled into an ever changing inexplicable one.

an other smith – foto by smith


Inside Places – fotoblog

Friday, May 16th, 2008

Wasabi nuts gratefully received & imbibed. Thank you Susannah
Dean for sending a wonderful bounty of spices & foods.

Table top playmates

Clown wears profound down frown when he sleeps



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