Charles Martin's Blog, page 31

My Phat Status – V-Neck Tees

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the little red tent – Sneak Preview #2

I asked Harold Neal to produce some paintings to go along with an excellent horror short story written by Mer Whinery for Literati Presents #4 (due out in October). In response, Harold produced haunting and lush images that perfectly captured the tone of chilling story about a killer descending on a campground. In LP#4, you will see the grayscale versions of the paintings, but we also wanted to release the original color versions because they are simply terrific. Here is the second of three.

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Kenny

 

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How About A Little Facetime?

Well, aren’t we the social butterflies? Check out our bursting calendar and come see us at our appearances across the country to check out our latest titles and meet our fabulous roster of writers and artists. Check back often as we announce new events on our Calendar page. If you haven’t already, subscribe to our newsletter to get weekly updates (we don’t give out your info to third parties nor do we spam.)

Limited Edition Prints From Dorshak Bloch!

Now available is a special package deal for Dorshak Bloch’s The Story of Ivan A. Alexander. Limited edition 8.5 X 11″ cold press, archival quality prints with a copy of Bloch’s debut graphic novella for only $15 (plus S & H).  You have four different prints to choose from while supplies last. Visit our STORENVY store to claim yours while there is still time!

Feminism in a Strip Club

Everyone in the strip club that night looked like they needed a better option. It was dark, with sharp angles and corners that threw shadows on my friends’ faces, making us strangers to one another. The couple at the table next to ours looked only half alive. Everywhere I looked I saw lonely, depressed men and lonely, depressed women doing what they could to get their various needs met. I looked up and saw myself reflected in a mirror hanging on the ceiling above. I didn’t like what I saw in my own reflection, either.

No fan of strip clubs, I was here because I had thrown in with a group of friends earlier in the evening and now lacked a way to get home. I sat beside a new acquaintance named Joe. He had been labeled in whispers as “the guy who only dates strippers.” Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, about my age, everything about him seemed average and safe. He told me he’d worked out a “history of probable childhood abuse/lowered self-esteem/incredible physical appearance correlation” that meant he was more likely to get better-looking girlfriends if he only dated strippers. I was relieved when the music got louder and the dancers took the stage.

Early in the evening, two women performed a duet on a pole. Their uneasy movements made me think it was a new act for them. Instead of sliding down the pole slowly together at the end of the song, they suddenly free-fell at breathtaking speed, catching themselves a mere two inches from the floor. There were gasps and then scattered laughter from the crowd. Joe surprised me by saying with concern, “That’s a head injury waiting to happen!” He then explained how and when the poles are wiped down and why it’s essential to the women’s safety that this job is done correctly. While listening with interest, I was also wondering if helmets could be incorporated into their wardrobe, like sexy crash-test dummies.

My neighbor continued to show support for all of the strippers working that night. He soon called my attention to a man attempting to tip a woman for a lap dance by throwing one-dollar bills at her. “That is incredibly disrespectful,” he said. “You are supposed to fold the bills and tuck them in her g-string or hand them to her.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Watch! Now she’s going to have to kneel and pick up all those ones.”

The etiquette lessons made me wonder if I had fallen into a Jane Austen novel. His ongoing tirade reminded me of the term “Gentleman’s Club.” I once had a twelve-year-old with me when she noticed a “Gentlemen’s Club” sign for the first time. She was so excited. “They have a club? A gentlemen’s club?” I looked into her happy eyes and saw her imagining the men inside as they practiced opening doors for ladies, rehearsing the waltz, working on their timing as they threw coats over simulated puddles. I cleared my throat, sighed, and crushed her innocence.

My friends and I were about to leave our “Gentleman’s Club” for the night when Thriller started playing. It took me several seconds to realize what was wrong with the woman who appeared onstage. Everything was wrong with her. Her eyes were bright. She kept her clothes on. Her smile looked genuine and even private, like the smile of a child who just realized she can skate without falling down. She was ignoring the poles. The crowd awakened from its collective stupor; when she dropped and did the caterpillar, it brought them to their feet. When the song ended, she lifted one hand to her top and unfastened it. Her arms slid out of the sleeves and it dropped to the floor before she smiled at us one last time and disappeared backstage.

I caught myself smiling at the dancer’s defiant attitude and her courage at saying “No” to old options that weren’t working for anyone tonight. Beside me, Joe was speechless.

“Go ask the bartender where we can leave a tip for her,” I told him, and he obliged.

For a few moments, in that dark sanctuary of loneliness and lust, we all got what we wanted.

the little red tent – sneak preview

I asked Harold Neal to produce some paintings to go along with an excellent horror short story written by Mer Whinery for Literati Presents #4 (due out in October). In response, Harold produced haunting and lush images that perfectly captured the tone of chilling story about a killer descending on a campground. In LP#4, you will see the grayscale versions of the paintings, but we also wanted to release the original color versions because they are simply terrific. Here is the first of three.

Dorshak Bloch in the Paseo

Tonight’s First Friday in the Paseo Arts District marks the grand opening of Dorshak Bloch, the eponymous studio for our very own Art Director. Located at 3003A Paseo Street in Oklahoma City, the pop art studio will feature original artwork and short-run prints from the creator of the Bombs Away Art t-shirt line and the author of The Story of Ivan A. Alexander. There will be occasional guest artists and the studio will sell the full line of Literati Press titles. Drop by tonight between 6-10 pm and pick up the brand new Ivan A. Alexander t-shirt printed on sweatshop free American Apparel!

To buy the t-shirt online, VISIT STORENVY.

In The Living Room Of A Patron Saint

Listen to this great unifying theory of art that I stole from my friend Ed:

Quality is a constant. The relative genius in society does not wax or wane from year to year. What changes, instead, is the support structure that chooses to elevate, suppress, or starve the most ambitious artists.

Pretty great theory, right? It took me years to really get my head around the idea, but it now governs my understanding of any creative community. Great art always exists, but those artists must have patrons, whether it is taxpayers funding art programs in schools, community organizers giving creatives a platform to show their work, big money injected into nonprofits from corporate donors, high school kids scraping together five bucks in change to get into a show, or homemakers choosing to buy wall art from local galleries rather than the mall. A community must offer its creative class fertile soil if they want the arts to grow.

For music, there are few traditions as charming and vital as the house show. As opposed to many traditional music venues with minimal to no quality control, a good house show series is built on the refined tastes of the homeowner with the proceeds going to the musician. The host curates the shows, not because they need the money, but because they want to perpetuate the art they consume. It can be a somber songwriter wailing deep into the night from someone’s guest room, a three-piece punk band raging in the garage while the parents are away, or emerging local and national acts playing in the living room of Sheri Guyse, one of the metro’s most devout patrons.

If you have been to an alt-country or folk show in Oklahoma, chances are you were standing next to Guyse, but didn’t know it. She believes in music, it is her church, her spiritual path. In high school, we all claimed that “music was our life”, but overtime our music collections staled and our interest in rooting out new artists faded. Few hold onto the faith, which makes music lovers like Guyse so critical to OKC’s developing landscape.

I saw KC Turner and Thunderegg perform in Guyse’s living room back in August and here is what I loved most:

1. It started at 7 pm. I have always hated late shows. Always. It’s not because I am getting old, it is because late shows are ridiculous.

2. Guyse knows the musicians well. Even if she’s never met them, she knows their music intimately which shows in her introduction.

3. The audience is polite. It is a listening room, similar to The Blue Door in OKC or The Chouse in Norman. Cell phones are turned off, whispers are kept at a minimum, and heckling is non-existent.

4. After the show, a party ensues.

5. Free beer by Coop Ale Works (though I think it was unique to this show)!

House shows are a true labor of love for the host, which is why they are usually sporadic and short-lived, but Guyse has been carrying on the monthly concert series for a year. The next show is coming up on Monday, September 15, featuring Leif Vollebekk. If you love acoustic music and strong songwriting, this is a series you need to make time for and, while you are at it, consider bringing a little extra cash because Guyse is raising funds to pay for tuition to become a life coach. Many of us in the arts community have benefited from her sage guidance, so it is time to return the favor. Sometimes patrons need patrons too.

These Kittens Are Gay