I think we should call it Confused McDragon. How about Max Van Annoyance? I'm pretty sure he violates several Decatur zoning ordinances. Who dresses up like Ignatius Reilly anyway. He's treading on sacred ground with those poorly manicured claws of his.
The AJC is hosting a contest to give this annoying thing an annoying name, so you can do that if you want.
A better use of your time would be checking out the new authors added to the festival by Eyedrum for their first ever Experimental Writers Asylum. The event will be hosted by Seen Gallery in Decatur all weekend long during the festival. The line-up Jessica E. Blinkhorn reading her erotic writings, a publication party for the second of volume of The Open Face Sandwich (finally!), Blake Butler, and more. You can check out the full schedule after the jump.


The Denver Post posted on its photo blog Monday 70 images by photographers of the Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information that were used in the 2006 exhibit Bound for Glory: America in Color. The photos of of America and its citizens span from 1939-1943 and have a surreal, cinematic quality to them. It's a rare thing to see photos of this era rendered so vividly in color, as we're most familiar with Dorothea Lange's iconic black-and-white Depression-era/dustbowl imagery, and now more so with Peter Sekear, who's work is currently on view at the High.
Spooky is all I can say about my favorite of the collection on the DP's site:



The show began on the lawn in front of the museum and did so with hardly any notice. For "Prologue: Turf," the statuesque and affecting Toni Doctor Jenkins sprang about solo in the grass. People on the hill above craned their necks searching for the action; some of the crowd slowly began to trickle down for a better view. A break followed Jenkins' slow exit in reverse up the concrete ramp and folks got a little shifty. Should I move back to my spot? Should I stay here? Should I move further in? many of their faces seemed to say.
But as dancers drifted in from around corners, behind trees, and (fearlessly!) across intersections onto the lawn and then launched into the pounding, tribal pulsing of "Blades of Grass," there was no longer any question about where to be.
Harrison Keys...shit, man. Why you gotta play with my heart like this? I went to the opening for your show Pressure Luck at Get This! Gallery last Saturday, all atwitter with anticipation—I’ve much enjoyed most of what I’ve seen you do in the past, and I was hungry for more. This was going to be a juicy feast of tasty art goodness, I just knew it. I even skipped dinner. And then you go and leave me feeling empty.

Noted fiction writer and Pushcart Prize nominee Liane Lemaster will also be on hand to tell a memoir-ish tale of family. She's offered this intriguing excerpt from her work:
My grandmother kept the human braid in the bottom drawer of her dresser, wrapped in newspaper, dated June 14th 1926. I found it when I was seven. It was raining. Usually, when I came to visit my family in West Virginia, my mother sat at the Formica table in my grandmother’s kitchen and smoked and complained about the railroad tracks being so close to the house while my father sat in the other room and watched TV until it was time to eat again. Usually, when it didn’t rain, my cousins and I swam, fished, climbed, foraged, got lost in the woods, made tracks for people to find us, climbed, teased dogs, built huts, climbed again, and made up games that were specific and mean—if you can’t make it to the top of the hill then I will slice your head off, if you can’t make it to the next laurel branch then I will slice your head off and eat it, if you can’t make it back to Mamaw’s, then I will slice the heads off of all your family and rub them in gum and stick a spit through them and roast them like a pig, starting now. We loved it because it we were young enough and we felt safe enough to know it would never happen.But this summer visit, the summer that I found the human hair in the drawer, my cousins weren’t around.
The reading gets started tonight, Wed., July 28, at 8 pm at Kavarna in Decatur.


On the eve of her performance at Eyedrum, we caught up with her on the phone just as she was putting some finishing touches on a watercolor.
What can you tell me about your upcoming performance at Eyedrum?
My performance work is different from these watercolors. My visual work is time consuming and tedious. I got into performance as a way to utilize my body as a piece.
The performance is titled "As it is Written," it works as symbolism for my natural deterioration. I’m materializing my own breakdown. When I write, I need have to have something at mid waist level. In this case, I’ll be writing on a vertical wall. As I move around the room, it will become increasingly difficult to write. I know that my hands aren’t going to be able to create forever, I use my performance as a metaphor for that deterioration.
Some people think that I’m trying to make a spectacle out of myself, but I don’t want or desire to be thought of as a spectacle. I’m trying to speak with words that aren’t vocal.
How did the documentary come about?
In October, GSU published a profile on their website about me. At that time, I had been going to GSU for a couple years and during that time I saw this woman around, with a huge head of red hair. I saw her all the time, but I’d never had a chance to talk to her. Then, one day she introduced herself and said she’d read the article about me and when the opportunity came up, her and her partner decided use to me as their subject.
They got the title from a tattoo on my arm. I'm a writer, as well, and it’s a line from one of the pieces I’ve written. I’m really grounded by reality. I have an ego, you have an ego, but being the way I am keeps me grounded.
When did you start making art?
In my family, I was the middle child, I wanted a way to stand out. My sister was the princess, so I would do whatever I could to get attention. When I was three, I would draw on the walls. One day, my mom realized that my drawing skills were way above average, so they started buying me art supplies.
How did that turn into the work that you're producing today?
When I got into KSU and saw the work that people there were producing, I realized I knew nothing. My mentor there, Joe Remillard, I learned all my technique from him. He demanded me to do my best. He never said anything like “That’s good considering...”
Grounded by Reality premieres at Eyedrum tonight, Tues., July 27 at 8 pm. Jessica E. Blinkhorn will perform immediately following the film.