Provoked by performance art

It's not often I get first-class mail (with a pretty art stamp no less), so of course I tore right into it.

Turns out me and/or my work now was subject of (or is that "to"?) a performance art project by one Michael 5000. The card featured a piece of mine, produced some years ago but which nevertheless had won me entry to Portland Open Studios in 2008. For that ill-fated event, I crisis-cleaned the studio for weeks, and then the economy crashed the day before. Thankfully, it didn't stop the stream of visitors, but it sure put a damper on sales.

On seeing the card with my work on it, my immediate first reaction was delight, the next was a kind of Hey, that's my stuff, and right behind that was, Where did he get that old thing?

As an artist, it's a bit eerie coming across old work: It can be cool or embarrassing, but it'll always tug on you like all those great and horrible memories from, say, middle school, taking you back to a time when you were, perhaps, less evolved than now. Smiling at my little "book" I think, How groovy that Mr. 5000 took the time to cut out this picture and make a card of it.

Now, what's here? Inside Mr. 5000 introduces his performance piece and then offers up his artist's statement, which is just beautiful. How could I critique that? (Except for the missing "R" of course.) First, it appears he has thought more about my art than I have (at least this piece in particular), and then thought even further by taking it to the realm of performance/interactivity. Geez. I'm just trying to do some bookbinding over here, what do you want? Salon talk? Theory?

This is a lovely card, and performance, and I'm glad to have taken part in it. There, I have responded. Has the performance ended, or is card-making your newest business venture?

Straightforward signage: I'll eat to that!

This presentation's so wonderfully plain and bold in its font and word choice, but the curlicue-ish dingbats on either side soften it, giving Clayton's in Coronado a sweet side.