Many of Mr Bush’s supporters will see it as a mean-spirited gesture against a man whose policies liberated the country from a vicious dictator.

To illustrate the point, in a previous age, the perpetrator would be facing a summary, and probably agonising, death if he had dared confront Saddam Hussein’s regime in such a way. Instead Mr Bush has been praised for his dignified response.

This is a moot point to me, since anyone who decides to attack a sitting American president in public with any type of weapon–be it a shoe, a salad fork, or any other flying object–most assuredly risks being shot on site by the Secret Service. It seems to me, then, that the salient take-away might be the strength of this man’s conviction despite the likely consequences–not the relative differences of said consequences in an occupied Iraq.

Was this man behaving civilly? No. Was his act eye opening? Absolutley.

[...] I think instead of sulking in this cataclysmic let-down, I’ll simply gather myself up and plan for the little bits of goodness that will surely come from living my life—spending time with my wife and our soon-to-be child.

Because the onus is not on me or anyone who had the good sense to recognize how messed up things really are. It never was. The burden of proof in the next four years lies with the people who voted for George W. Bush’s second term, knowing full well the record of his first.

And despite what some predicted, the Democrats did not go the way of the Whigs after 9/11. They held together and lost to a small margin in numbers. Talk of new parties and rearranging the electoral system are certain to happen and are a healthy part of our democracy. But there should be no deserters. The split line in this race demonstrates that the resistance is alive and kicking. It may need to regroup. It may need to rethink. But we should never be taken for granted again.

Because complacency for power’s sake is still wrong, and indifference to wrongness will always be a sin.

Judging from the number of political posts I’ve made since I wrote those words, I’ve clearly given my political voice to the proxy of mainstream news. Here we are in the worst financial shape since the Great Depression–something I only learned about in school–and at the cusp of a very real decision.

And the result of the last election, whether borne out of ignorance or fear, cannot happen again.

In all likelihood Barrack Obama will become the next president of the United States. In every important way, I think this is the right thing for America, or at least the country as I want to imagine it. He is clearly a gifted talent–a smart, honest, and sincere man who has bravely stepped up to what I believe is a spiritual calling.

I suppose at one time, the same could be said about his opponent, John McCain. And although I disagree with many of his political views, I believe he would have been acceptable, if not entirely predictable. But in too many ways, I think he’s lost himself along the way. At the very least, I believe he lost his intellectual honesty during his quest to get elected. Everything from his choice of running mate–a disingenuous anti-intellectual opportunist with questionable credentials at best–to his tacit approval of a campaign which tries to manipulate base human fear and hatred, have made me refuse to accept his candidacy wholesale.

And then there’s the other ticket. It’s funny that my own quote made so much about “the Democrats going the way of the Whigs.” That happened to be an actual paraphrase from Christopher Hitchens–the eloquent contrarian–who, ironically enough, has gone public with his decision to vote for Obama this time around.

Funny how things change.

Since it does seem that we will be watching history in the making, I can only hope that John McCain lives up to his promise of putting “country first.” It would be honorable of him to gracefully find some way of helping his campaign transition into what’s good for the country–not just himself. Instead of slinging more mud, or promising to fight beyond what’s appropriate or decent, he should bow out gracefully, if and when the time comes, like the honorable man I still believe he can be.

Mike Schindler
Curtains 1995
Ink on Died Canvas
78¼ x 51½ inches

Thirteen years later, I still consider this piece to be one of the most significant breakthroughs of my early artistic development. It was made in 1995 through a process of hand dying raw canvas, which was then brushed with ink. Titled Curtains, it’s an overtly political work which solidified my tendency to map imagery into adjacent relationships and unlikely contexts.

At the time it was created, academia was still trying to explain the collapse of the Soviet Union. Having read several books by Michael Parenti and becoming more and more influenced by the obsessive drive of artist Robert Gober, I set out to do a piece that tied together (quite literally as it turned out) some thoughts on politics, media, and culture.

There are four repeating images on this loose canvas, which when hung properly could appear to be working curtains to a non-attentive passerby. On the left hand side in red is a recognizable portait of Stalin set against the backdrop of the Sputnik satellite. On the right in brilliant blue is a map of a country with a legend that reads Panama, 1989. It’s checkered by a bottle from the popular sitcom I Dream of Jeanie.

It dances around, tumbling and emitting smoke as if to foretell a future spelled out in mystery, war, and deception.

CNN’s Election Center 2008 delivers not only a monumental amount of well thought out data-driven design, information architecture and Flash/AJAX wizardry, but the site itself may quite possibly represents the largest lesson in politics that’s ever been delivered to the American public in one full sitting.

Think about it.

Newspapers have tried in the past, but they’ve always been a day late and a dollar too much–not to mention totally degradable. Television, at the risk of being cliché, just reduces everything into meaningless sound bites. And radio can’t even come close to the the level of granularity needed to compare data as contained in multiple charts, graphs, and interactive widgets. While I’ve taken issue with the way CNN has egregiously presented visual data in the past, I think the job they’re doing with Election Center is for the most part exceptional.

Where else can you learn that Tom Hanks gave Barack Obama‘s campaign $4,600, while only giving Hilary Clinton $2,300? Or that the process of using delegates is completely different between parties. After digesting a good chunk of the visualized information on CNN, it’s become apparent to me that I still have a lot to learn about things I just assumed to know.

This kind of instructional reach should be especially encouraging to future generations. Ultimately, it’s their gain should they continue to consume and expand upon the Internet as it’s being used today. Because as they become more informed about the government through simple methods of user interaction and experience, they might also become inspired, if not empowered, into changing it one day.

One morning during my Junior year of college, my sculptor professor, a scruffy-looking curmudgeonly man, who also happens to be one of the most well-spoken individuals on the topic of art I’ve ever met in real life, led our small group through the art building’s court yard area.

We must have been doing a class critique of some student work, when we came across an old, torn-up mattress that had been abandoned next to the art building and seemingly staged for display. On it somebody left a piece of paper with some words scrawled on it.

“This is art. Smell my fart.”

For a minute, I saw the stunt for what it appeared to be on the surface–a prank begotten of laziness, opportunity, and a few too many beers by some asshole fraternity members wanting to get rid of some old junk–and I probably even chuckled to myself at the culprit’s audacity.

But as I stood there debating the delivery of a sardonic comment that never came, it soon sunk in that this was something of a test for me.

At that time, I had just begun accepting the fact that I would be dedicating part of my life to making art, or at the very least something of creative value for others and myself. And here were people telling me how worthless it all was–belittling my peers, my institution, and what I thought at the time was my purpose. In fact, they were willfully acting out against the idea of art itself and I couldn’t help but to take it personally. At the peak of this moment of college self-discovery, I knew there could only one side for me to stand.

When my professor read the note, he didn’t seem surprised. But his disappointment couldn’t be contained either. He later recalled to us his own story of a public sculpture piece he created as a young artist, which repeatedly fell victim to a local vandal.

“That’s when I learned,” he said in his usual deadpan, “that some people can’t handle creative expression. They’re so intolerant of any point of view that they don’t understand or simply don’t agree with, that they’ll try to destroy it.”

This unrehearsed bit of wisdom still resonates with me today. It reminds me to expect the unexpected. And it helps me understand that creative expression can sometimes speak powerful words to people who are too closed minded to simply sit back and listen.

You know when James Dobson can’t resist defending a gay man who sexually harrassed teenage boys on the government bill, it’s time to pack up the self-rightousness and make a move for the hills—preferably some place where they’ve never heard of irony before.

Me: Oh yeah?

Liz (muffled): And “I’ll fight for freedom.”

Me: All fight for freedom?

Liz: No, I’ll fight for freedom. It’s on another sticker. It says I apostrophe L-L fight for freedom.

Me: Oh… (paused in thought) What the hell’s that supposed to mean?

Liz: I don’t know. But driving around in a mini-van’s a pretty good start.

I may be the only one I know who’s willing to admit to being a long time appreciator of comedian Richard Lewis. His anxiety-laden routines, such as I’m in Pain, I’m in Hell, and I’m Doomed spelled out Jewish guilt and life on the therapy couch in a cathartic flush of pain and laughter. Despite his material’s adult and personal nature, I could easily relate to his wild rants as a boy growing up. In hindsight, Catholic school probably made that possible for me, along with a few of my own yet to be diagnosed mental disorders. But I digress.

Why is it that these days I’m forced to think of Richard Lewis’ schtick every time I see George W explaining something to the media? I don’t really know. Low public opinion polls and a clear disregard for the Constitution he swore to uphold may have something to do with with the why. But this brief Slate article seems to touch what it all could actually mean.

George Bush is a quick wit. When a camera fell and dangled from the briefing room ceiling at his Jan. 26 press conference, he quipped to those seated below: “Are you wearing your helmets?” Later, a radio reporter prefaced his question about the Jack Abramoff scandal by saying he wasn’t interested in pictures of Bush and the disgraced lobbyist. “Easy for a radio guy to say,” Bush interjected.

I wish the president’s serious answers were as tart and on point. Dealing with delicate issues on camera, Bush’s mind may work just as quickly, but he keeps his mouth shut. The pause to think gives him away. When he doesn’t punch out a response, he’s not puzzling out the answer. He’s puzzling out the spin.

Sorry, after looking at my desktop today and hearing the news, I couldn’t resist adding this little adjustment to one of the Nonist’s more interesting downloads. Their original inspiration may be worth repeating.

a century and a half after darwin’s most important work was published people still seem to have a hard time wrapping their minds around it’s implications, or are made nervous and upset by them, we thought it was high time darwin’s image were updated and his ideas put into less technical terms which everyone can understand. with that in mind we modified bob peak’s poster for every which way but loose, an image we think better fit to reach the doubtful american public.

I added the suck it part.

But I’m long partial to such inflamatory provocations ever since a high school football game in which my small private school played Dover area high on a fluke. They were like three divisions ahead of us but we had a game to make up after somebody bailed out of the regular schedule. I swear those boys were like pure bred oxen designed (intelligently or not) for the sole purpose of pummeling underweight Catholics into the cold wet ground. Somehow I ended up playing that day, during my sophomore year no less, after our starting tight end was injured. We lost something like 54 to 0.

I remember thinking to myself, as the 250 pound brutes across from me at the line of scrimmage shouted obscenities about our mothers, “We will lose this game for sure, but somehow evolution will end up having the last laugh.”

Okay, maybe I didn’t think that exactly, but it does make for a damn good ending to my story.

Aaaah, sweet release.