GET LAY’D while you still have the chance! Sign up for this mysterious performance by Eric Lindley & Katie Shook.

As Machine Project explains: Each show is designed for one, and just one, audience member at a time. Please reserve your spot in advance for this short puppet play to guarantee a spot by following the RSVP links below.

http://machineproject.com/archive/events/2011/02/04/layscience/

Lay Science, a collaboration between Eric Lindley and Katie Shook, is an exploration into the literal use-value of art, and a critique of institutionalized scientific research.

The show itself is a short, private puppet performances by Katie and Eric, which will be done for one audience member at a time. The viewer will be immersed in a complete, surreal musical and visual environment, in a small enclosure within the gallery, as Katie and Eric make a unique performance for that person alone, about the inhabitants of a small country house that has been washed out to sea.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=sS1cIXhXnmc

So we couldn’t follow her to the igloo, but Emily Lacy will be performing in a desert saloon in Joshua Tree on Feb 27 (as part of The New LA Folk Fest’s desert weekend!) and we can go to there…

Here’s a little more Emily in the igloo hanging out with someone’s parents:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg6UPAJsqlA

—Daiana Feuer

“An ongoing series of collectively-organized, live web-casts, the Eternal Telethon raises money to establish a convalescent home for retired and ailing artists in need of a break. Founded in early 2009 by Akina Cox, Chad Dilley, Ina Viola Blasius, John Burtle, and Niko Solorio, the telethon is very pleased to have featured over 200 artists sharing their creativity to show solidarity for the creation of an artist retirement home. The telethon functions both as a showcase for artists to present new, experimental work in a low-pressure environment, as well as a demonstration of how a community can effectively define its needs and empower itself.” This interview by Drew Denny.

What is the Eternal Telethon? How long as it been around?
Niko Solorio: The Eternal Telethon has been around since before the birth of zero and is working to introduce a scene meant to tear open the social envelope a little more with wit, talent, and lots of wonderful free spirit. It is a virtual platform for performance based and other not so easily categorized works and also functions as a fundraiser for the creation of the Eternal Convalescent Home for Retired Artists (E.C.H.R.A). A nursing home for weary artists, E.C.H.R.A will be a free-form residency program open to all supporters of the Eternal Telethon.
John Burtle: It’s a reoccurring event that uses the standard telethon format (performers, hosts, asking for donations…). We’re raising funds to start an artist retirement home as well as creating a space for artist to present their ideas to a global audience. It was founded almost several years ago.
Who founded the Eternal Telethon? How did y’all come up with the idea?
JB:  It was founded by Akina Cox, Chad Dilley, Ina Viola Blasius, Niko and myself. The project grew out of a desire to bring together our local and global community. Niko and Ina had recently returned from Germany and I had gotten back from a residency over there a few months prior. Chad and Akina had been living here and I think struggling, as we all do, with vast distance of the city. So we wanted something that our friends afar could experience that would also bring together people in a real physical space. Since then over two hundred amazing human beings have participated in the live events, and we have had people watching and participating in the chat room from twenty-seven countries.
NS: Apparently, I was stoned. But I believe that it had something to do with Charles Baudelaire and his reference to the artist as an “Eternal Convalescent”.
Where will your retirement home for artists be built?
JB: We are looking into a couple of places but by far the one that’s at the top of our list is the Salton Sea area of California.  There are a couple of factors pulling us out there: it’s super cheap, it seems like the right distance from LA (where most of the telethons supporters reside), the desert weather is beneficial for the elderly, and it’s the most frequented stop on the west coast for migrating birds. Also, it is already home to several quirky creative attractions like Salvation Mountain, The Banana Club Museum and Slab City.
NS: It also just happens to be located on the San Andreas Fault in California’s Border Region. And you might say…”how do you know this?”… well, I looked it up on Wikipedia.
What materials will be used in its construction? Who will construct it?
NS: We will use magic, paper mache and concrete to construct E.C.H.R.A. It will be constructed by participants and supporters of the Eternal Telethon. Of course one of our most important materials is the donations we receive from our beautiful and talented advocates and patrons.
What kind of amenities will it feature? Will it be more likely to include a hot tub and steam room or a mud pit and a jungle room?
JB: For the time being we are staying focused on just acquiring land, which seems like the most attainable first step. But we are thinking about getting a large enough plot (about 10 acres) so that several structures could be built. Lots of ideas have been thrown around about what our artist retirement home might look like. It’s possible that some individual artists might like to take on building spaces that are would be important to them, while other structures will be created more collectively. Some spaces and structures that have been suggested are a massage parlor, a giant bed that could sleep 20+ people, a broadcast center/recording studio, a super adobe mini village, an extensive library, a museum, gourmet kitchen, and of course a swimming pool/hot tub. No one has of yet proposed a mud pit or jungle room, but I think those are important possibilities to consider.
NS: Amenities? I think that we are likely to have a hot tub full of mud and a steam room jungle. Other possibilities include “Champagne Colonoscopies”, “DIY LOL OMG’s”, and my favorite of the moment… “Junkyard Car Karaoke”! What I guess I am trying to say is that we would like to give physical form to the intangible as well as highlight the delicate nature of the ridiculous.
How does a ‘home’ define a community and meet its needs? Would your home be self-sustaining? What would be required of inhabitants? What benefits would they enjoy?
JB:  I think homes are very beneficial to a community. Even if it is not a place that you are at all the time it is important to have a space to go where you know you will be supported.  As I am in different communities, I feel at home in different places. For instance I feel at home in Long Beach where I grew up and where my family lives. Even though I don’t live there now I am apart and supported by a community there. As an artist I feel at home at several creatively run spaces like Machine in Los Angeles. But (unlike Machine) these projects are often gracefully short lived with the ever-increasing cost of rent and living in general and the lack of public government support in this country.  Often as artists, when we do find a home, we have to work so much just to keep them that we are not able to fully enjoy them. We are trying to secure a space, so in the future we can retire from working so hard just to sustain our homes.
NS: I once had a Chinese man translate a German proverb to me…it goes something like, “home is where your feet are”. What I think is special and unique about this ‘home’ is that it is actually being defined by a community of artists who have not only embraced it’s concept with open arms, but are also continually showing us how we can improve or make the Eternal Telethon and E.C.H.R.A better. I think this is invaluable and shows the depth and reach of the project. As our audience continues to grow I think that we will also be required to make adjustments and continually re-evaluate what needs are not being met and how we can better facilitate them.
I think that the retirement home would certainly have to be self sustaining if is going to last for eternity (eternity is a long time after all). We need a place not only for artists to live in the here and now, but also for extra terrestrials to relax once they finally decide to abduct and probe us.
What would be required of inhabitants is the ability to communicate. That may sound difficult to do with a Facebook world and an illiterate society, but together I think that we can make sure that everyone is “liked twice”.
Stephen van Dyke: When the convalescent home for artists is built, I think it will be defined by who chooses to go there and how they want to use the place.  What brought a Ross’s gull to the Salton Sea all the way from the high arctic?  Why do a third of the remaining population of American white pelicans live there?  The Salton Sea was originally seen as a disaster area.  Now it’s a refuge in a constant struggle.  The Telethon is an inclusive group swimming upstream for an eternity.  The community might never find that home, and the needs might never fully be met, but it’s that eternal striving that puts the “Eternal” in Eternal Telethon.
Benefits may include hugs, balloons, and cake.
Just as your future construction will give a home to artists who can’t find a cozy place in society, the Telethon itself seems to provide a home for artworks that don’t necessarily fit into the art world. How do you choose Telethon participants?
JB: We have always thought that whether we raise money or not, how well we’re supporting our fellow artists is how we would determine the project’s success. We welcome all artists – and especially get excited when artists together.
NS: I think that what we as a community of artists are doing with the telethon is filling a vacuum for artists who are frustrated with many of the outdated and sometimes alienating or drab outlets available (or rather, unavailable) to them in the so-called “art-world”, which seems increasingly deprived of free will.
SVD: The telethon format gives you a lot of second chances.  If something goes wrong, or if we’re inspired to elaborate on an idea, it actually becomes a strategy to keep people watching.  Because the Telethon is for artists and by artists, anything we do on screen will be construed as “art.”  The live camera keeps rolling and rolling, and we have to be prepared to do anything to avoid dead air time while maintaining an audience.  No matter how ready I could be for the event, I would never have expected the great opportunity of calling up Jasper Johns until I was dialing the number.  99% of the art world is about selling objects, and that encourages the dominant economic system to influence most artworks’ meanings.  At the Telethon you mostly have artists whose work is not about money, and yet we’re participating as a community to raise money.  It’s a nice answer to the dilemma of making money while staying true to the meaning of your work.
Could you describe a favorite moment from a past Telethon? A great performance, discovering a new artist or friend, or perhaps a disaster or hilarious mix up?
NS: A favorite moment for me was when “Flawless Mother Sabrina” had a phone conversation with Andy Warhol (post mortem…well he is dead isn’t he?) from X-Initiative gallery in Chelsea.
I would have to say that a great performance to highlight (and quite honestly, there are so many I would like to include, but then this interview would become a novel) would have to be during the last telethon we did recently at CalArts as part of 40th CalArts Alumni Reunion. It was an interactive work by Tyler Calkin (who you can also say is a newly discovered artist and friend, at least to me!). Tyler needed some volunteers to perform his famous “Double-Standard” piece, which requires that two members from the audience have a face to face match of endurance by clutching onto mouth-guards (sterilized of course) which have been placed at both ends of a mop pole (I know, very complicated right?!). The first person to flinch essentially “loses” the match. It is kind of like a very elaborate staring contest. Well, anyhow… John and a very precocious 8 year old from the audience (who was charmingly referred to as “Eight” by our hosts Ayana Hampton and Lawrence McEvoy III) ended up going head to head in this intense battle of endurance. The spontaneity and play fullness of that performance I think captured for me the very essence of what the Eternal Telethon is about. (By the way, the 8 year old won the battle! Sorry John, but “Eight” was determined!)
What’s happening at the 24-hour Telethon? Any particular projects you’d like to discuss?
A lot is happening for the November 20th-21st Telethon. There are around seventy-five artists and collaborative groups that span a wide range of modes for creative production: musicians, poets, psychics, performers, dancers, video artists, comedians, chefs, nurses, martial artists, actors, painters, costume makers… Energy Consultants Inc. will reduce all arguments to their negating polar opposites with frenzied theremin. Julie Lequin will be screening her video True Stories (almost). Jen Bruce will be sewing a quilt made form donated pieces of performers clothing/costumes that will then be auctioned off near the end of the broadcast. Body City will lead several participatory dance pieces including a human knot untangling. Stephen van Dyke will be doing several projects. Among them, calling wealthy artists and asking them for donations and looking for Eternal Telethon supporters on chat roulette. Claire Cronin will be performing a series of sad folk songs for electric guitar. Musical acts include Emily Lacy, Birdstrike, Pangea, and BYOFF. Nicole Antebi will be making date shakes. Elana Mann Elana Mann is going to give a live News Broadcast with reports from artists living around the globe. The experimental meditation center of los angeles presents 30 meditations in 30 minutes: shouted version!! Tyler Calkin will bring some of his participatory sculptures for the studio audience to interact with. B & T will be playing a game of horse. Gordon Winiemko will be doing some unmotivational speaking session. Sojung Kwon will initiate 1 discussion amongst 5 people, each speaking a different language.. Also a lo-tech light show by Anna Mayer, cactus puppetry, poems generated by google search predictions, Balinese gamelan, Bob Ross impersonation and much more!
Why make this Telethon 24 hours long? How do you feel about endurance as an art material?
JB: One reason this telethon is so long because we wanted to be able to include everyone who was interested in being involved. It also felt like a logical step because endurance is often apart of telethons, pledge drives, dance-athons and the other activities that continue to inspire the project. I’m not quite sure what will happen in the twenty third hour, but I like that uncertainty. We might all be totally wrecked and barely able to hold up the microphone, but that might still make for a great Telethon.
Will you be taking any naps?
JB: There has been some talk of a nap session accompanied by live lullabies… you’ll have to watch to see what happens.

ETERNAL TELETHON: INFINITY + 24 BROADCASTS LIVE FROM MACHINE PROJECT AT WWW.ETERNALTELETHON.COM ON NOV. 20-21, NOON TO NOON.

The first time seeing Tommy Santee Klaws perform should be by the sea at night, or on a shipwreck, or in a cabin filled with taxidermy, rusty contraptions and old books. Luckily, L.A. art galleries afford these opportunities. Machine Project and Echo Country Outpost have hosted Tommy’s music lately because it’s simultaneously epic and playful, just like the surroundings they create. The band’s backyard gospel—accompanied by toys and kids’ party favors—recently got them a distribution deal with Imaginary Music, the label owned by Lol Tolhurst, a founding member of the Cure. Like the Cure, Tommy Santee Klaws finds the darkness inspiring in prophetic, romantic ways. This interview by Daiana Feuer.

Why do you hate sand?
Tommy Santee Klaws (guitar/voice): It’s harder to walk through and it feels dirty. It’s gross—gets between the toes. I’m kinda anal about that stuff.
Why did you start writing songs?
TSK: I was 20 years old and feeling feelings so I wanted to put them down in music form. My mom passed in 2001. That was when I wrote my first album, and that was all for her. That was a big impetus to start doing my own stuff. I’ve made eight albums, a 7” and an EP. I’ve released them myself up until this new one.
Does your music come from a darker place?
TSK: Maybe not darker but I have always loved sad songs. It does come from ‘a place.’ I’m a jovial guy in general but I can get out that stuff through music. My mom’s death was hard for me and my brother and sister. Coping with it, a lot of it still comes up. That’s where the darkness maybe comes from.
Is it hard to perform some of your songs live?
TSK: It’s therapeutic and I enjoy playing them. There’s some I don’t.
What song is too rough to play?
TSK: It’s called ‘He Sharp.’ It’s on Healing Power Of Sunshine. My wife Donna thinks it’s the best song. That’s the roughest for me to play. I sing it really high and, lyrically, it’s a sad song.
Why do people like sad songs?
TSK: You don’t have to know what it’s about to relate. Even just playing a sad chord can send you to whatever place.
What’s the saddest chord?
TSK: A minor.
How much do you use it?
TSK: It’s in there a lot. We don’t think of ourselves as sad music. I think it’s hopeful and kind of like anthems of life. Having Donna doing bird sounds and things like that with toys takes it to another level so it’s not so serious. It’s a familial thing. It feels good and you can join in.
Sometimes you and Donna and her toys appear as Freaky Mountain. What’s that band?
TSK: Evan Roberts and I wrote some songs together. It’s a way to have a happier contrast. The brighter side of songs. The lyrics may not be but the music is.
Why do you dress in white?
TSK: I don’t know actually—because we get so dirty.
What’s with the animatronic cat?
TSK: That’s Snowball. Snowball is an official member of the band.
Why do you make music?
TSK: It’s my favorite thing to do. I have fun. It feels good. I love playing with my family and friends. Those are the most important things to me.
What were you listening to in high school?
TSK: Joy Division, Depeche Mode, lots of 1980s stuff—the Cure. I think those bands were influential in terms of what I liked listening to and song structure and things like that.
What is behind the song ‘Smoke Spells?’ The chorus is dark. ‘You look better when you’re dead…’
TSK: It’s an older one but it came up on Gloria. I wrote it during that time period after my mom had passed.
It’s cool how you say ‘fuck’ in it.
TSK: We’re really deep. We use words like ‘fuck’ and ‘shit.’
Have you had your heart broken much?
TSK: I don’t think if I’ve ever had my heart broken.
Where did you come from?
TSK: I’ve lived here a while. I was born in San Gabriel. My folks were missionaries in Thailand so I lived there when I was younger. Then they moved to Missouri where my dad did seminary. We traveled a lot and ended up in southern Orange County.
Are you religious?
TSK: It definitely shaped the person I am and how I think about things and do things. I grew up in it so it was a big part of my life.
What did your parents teach you?
TSK: Be nice to people. Some people have bad days. Just be nice.
How often do you have bad days?
TSK: I don’t think that often but Donna might disagree.
What’s wonderful about being married?
TSK: Just sharing everything. I love her. She’s the most talented person I’ve ever met and one of the nicest and most considerate people. She’s my best friend.
Do you try to be the good guy?
TSK: I suppose so, yes. I think it’s important to be good and nice. I’m a pretty go with the flow type of guy.
Define ‘hope.’
TSK: It’s just having a positive outlook on things as opposed to being negative all the time—getting along with other people and doing things together.
What’s your favorite childhood story?
TSK: My sister, who is a couple years older, was jealous when I was born. She was always messing with me. My mom walked out once and she put a pillow over my head.
That’s your favorite childhood story?
TSK: It’s the first one that came to mind.
What was the outcome? Obviously, you’re alive.
TSK: Oh, we love each other very much. Donna wants to talk to you.
Donna Jo (toys/voice): It’s tough for Tommy to talk about what he does. That’s why his music is so awesome. He can’t articulate it but he puts together this thing that is moving and expressive in and of itself. That’s how he can speak. That’s why he has me.
Do you believe in opposites?
DJ: I think there’s something to it. It’s good to balance yourself out.
Must that be with another person?
DJ: No, it’s better if you sort everything in yourself. But it’s useful to have a mirror held up in front of you. When you look in yourself you’re not necessarily seeing all the flaws. Another person adds a dimension that lets you get there quicker.
Are mirrors just for seeing flaws?
DJ: Oh no—they’re good to underline the positive qualities as well.
Define ‘truth.’
DJ: I believe there is no objective truth. Everyone has white lies. It’s putting forth the most real picture of yourself. And that of reality.
Is reality real?
DJ: I sometimes think I know and believe it’s real. The more I know the less I know. There’s a lot of mysteries out there.
How do you approach a mystery?
DJ: It happens to me on a frequent basis. Even if it’s beyond my truth and reality, I try to be open to the possibility that there’s more than meets the eye.
Do you believe in ghosts?
DJ: I haven’t yet. So many people have told me their experience and they believe so deeply. I kinda wish I would see one already, so that it could become my truth. I would have fun with it. I want to yell at them and ask them questions and see their experiences and ask why they’re stuck. I don’t think ghosts would look like people. They would be an energy force. They would turn on classical music and turn the fan on and make things surface that we couldn’t understand. It would be a bump in the night, not an old decrepit lady in disintegrated clothes.
Why do you play with toys?
DJ: Tommy’s music seems so moody and broody and dark. There’s also something childlike about his music, even though it’s profound. The perky element of toys contrasts his dark yet childlike side. It’s fun too, figuring out something that fills the space like an accessory. For me it feels more natural to make sound effects.
Do you go to toy stores and look for noises?
DJ: Toy stores, garage sales, thrift stores. I want something that whirrs. And a billowing noise. I need to find these sounds. I might make my own toys because I haven’t found certain sounds. Can I say something about Tommy without a question? I was a fan before a wife. He’s tapped into something of the beyond. It’s good to lose yourself in the puzzle of what he’s trying to convey. We’ve both had major losses in our lives. When you experience that as a young person, you stop tolerating the baloney that’s around. You go to a deeper level. Your perspective changes. It goes from ‘everything’s fast and fleeting’ to ‘everything is meaningful so let’s sink into it on a deeper level.’
How do you maintain that everyday?
DJ: It’s not like we’re always trying to have deep meaningful days but we coexist in what we’ve been through so we are a united force against hardship. Helping other people gives meaning. The best thing you can do for yourself is help others. I try to figure out how to do it.
Can music give meaning?
DJ: People have to make their own meaning. We’re all meaning makers. If someone is on the same plane as you it can be transcendent. If you hear music that is soulful and hits that chord, you feel like you’re not alone.

TOMMY SANTEE KLAWS’ RAKES IS RELEASING IS OUT ON NOV. 16 ON IMAGINARY MUSIC. VISIT TOMMY SANTEE KLAWS AT MYSPACE.COM/TOMMYSANTEEKLAWS.

They are enveloping. Potentially they are in an echo chamber, or they are reenacting the scene in Ghostbusters where the EPA shuts off the containment grid and there are ghosts everywhere.  Tommy, with family, vacillates between delicate tenor pleas and a stabbing coyote yelp.  I have seen them perform five times in the last two months and, beyond all hyperbole, dammit they are good.  As fuck.  No joke.  And they are ripe for sea chanties, with their industrious, pained stomp.  Not to mislead: they are not about gnashing teeth and fretful weeping (though, it is not prohibited), but they are stronger and more playful.  Tommy’s wife, Donna, constantly plunking on miniature pianos or shouting into knock-off Fischer Price bullhorns (awesome, cheap robot voices), makes it all so fun, making Tommy occasionally smirk.  If you fret, here, it will be joyful.

There’s an analog here with what is happening in terms of the Los Angeles folk scene that’s got all the people interested.  We get gut-dripping sincerity with extraterrestrial weirdness.  The whole Lynchian unreality and amorphous real/not real stupid meta-whatever bullshit that is now beyond standard in L.A. commentary, is more than plentiful, but it doesn’t feel tired. The large fictional cavities that pock the city (the showmanship of fakeness: in Hollywood, it’s the last scene of The Hills, or Joaquin Phoenix, but in Echo Park, it’s Machine Project’s fabricated shipwreck or Beck’s claim that a submarine was found in the lake) are dispensaries, rather than the absence, of a churning mess of emotion.

—Gerard Olson

Over December and January I will be in Residence at LACMA conducting ‘Temples of the Mind’, making music and films based in the Pavilion for Japanese Art. Throughout this process an entire album will be recorded on-site at LACMA, mysterious radio transmissions will be available over the internet, and mystical reckonings will occur inside a tiny Hermit’s Cabin, where performances transpire for just 1 to 2 people at a time.

DEC. 5, 6pm: Opening Concert in the Pavilion for Japanese Art, followed by Machine Project Book Party at 7pm, in LACMA West.

Will they give her a bed and snacks, is what we wanna know…

Somewhere down in Chinatown, the ‘70s are coming back. The East L.A. Art scene of late has mined these years—with varying degrees of success and, perhaps, to the brink of exhaustion—but Elana Mann’s Performing Economies demonstrates just how dynamic and even necessary participatory art can be. For almost three months now, Mann and artists and collectives from across the city have presented panels, performative works and visual artwork exploring the ideas of alternative economies. This interview by Drew Denny.

Tell me the story of Performing Economies—when did you get the idea for the show? How did you choose a space and participants?
Elana Mann (organizer/curator): This past February I was invited to submit a proposal for a curatorial project at the Fellows of Contemporary Art. I had just finished a year-long project called ‘Exchange Rate: 2008,’ which was an international performance exchange created in response to the 2008 US presidential election. With Performing Economies I was interested in deepening certain ideas and questions that emerged during the Exchange Rate project around politics and participation. I also wanted to highlight a community of Los Angeles artists who are interested in exploring alternative economies of activism and intimacy in this time of global political and economic crises. The Fellows of Contemporary Art was an ideal space to hold this type of exhibit, as it is a model of alternative giving and patronage. The organization, founded in 1975, is made up of 140 art patrons who pay dues and use this money for multiple philanthropic programs, all of which relate to the development of art in California.
I didn’t expect to see the Journal of Aesthetics and Protest sharing a bill with artSpa—what’s the uniting factor among the participants?
Performing Economies crystallizes a growing movement of Los Angeles based artists who are addressing current political calamities through methodologies of participation, collaboration and community involvement. The Journal of Aesthetics and Protest, for example, has an editorial collective that ‘facilitate[s] the meeting of artists, political activists, theorists, and media makers’ who contribute to their publications and events. artSpa, organized by Adam Overton, works with artists and healers, creating such events as ‘open-mic meditations,’ ‘free aura readings’ and ‘experimental music and massage.’ Both of these projects are deeply invested in social change, whether through political writing and activism or healing workshops.
Could you describe the Free Free Market? What kind of goods and services were gifted at that event?
The Free Free Market (FFM) had nine participants, who are all part of the Artists for Social Justice collective, which was founded by the artist Evelyn Serrano. The gifting at the FFM was really varied—from a woman typing love letters for people passing by, to folks with a table of homemade ‘seed bombs,’ to a singer offering free voice lessons. One of the artists had a table of goods she was giving away, from cans of soup to jig saws that were all ‘acquired’—or stolen. All of the artists were spread out in the courtyard and surrounding the building where the gallery is located. The artists interacted with people coming especially to see them, but also folks passing by who were heading to dinner or to a shop elsewhere in the building. One of the artists gave the janitor of the building a bunch of vegetable plants left over from the day and he planted them in spots all around the outside courtyard. All the participants in the day were really pleased with how it went and are planning to expand the Free Free Market to farmer’s markets, the beach, and other social spaces in and around Los Angeles.
I know the Johns pretty well—from CalArts—but I must ask, what’s this ‘we’ business all about?
John Burtle and John Barlog are two artists who often work collaboratively. They both have rectangle tattoos on their forearms, which they use as gallery spaces. The Johns invite people to do projects on/with this particular demarcated spot on their arms. Since working together they have noticed that their language has changed, from ‘my project’ to ‘our project,’ from ‘I am doing this’ to ‘We are doing this.’ This change in the Johns’ language has been a powerful one, shifting their ideas of individual versus collective identity and they wanted to further explore this shift for the Performing Economies exhibit. For their piece, the Johns proposed that a new form of the English language be used in the gallery space. This new form would eliminate all pronouns except ‘we’ and ‘us,’ abolish command forms, and eradicate possessives. Instead of ‘Get me a beer,’ one would say, ‘Would we like a beer?’ And so on. Tom McKenzie, the executive director of the Fellows of Contemporary Art, is a writer himself and was excited to help facilitate the use of the language in the space. Tom said that this new form has actually helped him think of the Fellows of Contemporary Art as a ‘we’ instead of individual members. The Johns also placed a wall didactic on the wall of the gallery explaining to viewers the ‘rules’ of the new language and inviting people to participate.
This show runs from May through July and involves so many people—did you experience any hiccups in the curatorial process? What have you learned?
The curatorial process was remarkably smooth and maybe this has to do with the fact that the participants in the show are all used to working with others through collaboration or collective art making. Many of the artists have even curated their own projects within the show. In all, over sixty-two artists/collaborations have created artwork through the Performing Economies project, which is pretty remarkable given the size of the gallery space and budget. Of course I have learned so much through this process of working with all the incredible artists participating in the show and with the Fellows of Contemporary Art. One of my curatorial lessons has to do with assuming a type of artistic output for each participant. When I started the exhibit I had the participants divided in my head as to who would make an object for the gallery space and who would produce an event or performance. This was a particularly bad idea, as some of the artists who I thought would want to create a performance expressed a desire to make an object and vice versa. As an artist myself I should have known not to make any conjectures about what an artist would want to create for a specific project. Luckily, this did not create any major problems, but only enriched the exhibition.
So no catastrophes? What about miracles? Surprises?
The show has been a really inspiring experience all around and I can’t wait for the rest of the events that are coming up. Last weekend the gallery was visited by various garment district workers who participated in an artwork by Ashley Hunt and Taisha Paggett called ‘On Movement, Thought and Politics: Garment Worker’s Center, Los Angeles/En el movimiento, el pensamiento y la política: El Centro de Trabajadores de Costura, Los Angeles’ (2009). It was wonderful to share the exhibit with them and talk about how some of the ideas of the artworks could be incorporated into their everyday lives. We hope to host more outside groups to the space through the run of the exhibit.
How did the garment workers participate in the piece?
Ashley Hunt and Taisha Paggett began working with the Los Angeles Garment Worker’s Center this spring. They conducted various movement workshops, which focused on the way the garment workers’ political situation was affecting how they used their bodies at their jobs. Many of them have injuries related to unhealthy ways that they work. Hunt and Paggett also investigated how the garment workers carried or expressed themselves through their bodies in different interactions with each other or with their bosses. For their piece in the exhibit Hunt and Paggett had the workers direct each other to physically recreate some educational posters. These posters indicate—through endearing hand drawings—different ways to position oneself in negotiations, confrontations with bosses, and discussions with each other. Hunt and Paggett filmed the workers as they were acting out the positions of the characters displayed in three posters and added subtitles in English and Spanish.
How do you critically evaluate the role of activism and/or education in your own work and the work of your participants? Could you give me some examples of works you believe to be inspirational or successful in activism and education? What about works that you believe to be unsuccessful?
Yes, this is a good, but difficult question… Over the past few years there has been a renewed interest in ‘participatory’ artwork that involves artists and art audiences in new and recycled ways. This type of artwork is often positioned as activating a political space. From the recent historical surveys such as Allan Kaprow: Art as Life at L.A.’s MOCA and The Art of Participation 1950-today at SFMOMA to exhibitions highlighting new artwork, such as Perific 8: Art As Gift Biennial for Contemporary Art in Iasi, Romania, artists worldwide are creating salons, swap meets, gardens, walking tours, and schools. Art institutions are focusing on interaction, collectivity and collaboration like never before. These projects are created for different reasons—to activate the viewer, so that she or he will be more active in the world, to counteract the disappearance of social bonds in our communities, to be more inclusive rather than exclusive and question authorship of the singular ‘I,’ etc. However, many of these projects are utilizing participatory methodologies as a style rather than a pointed political stance. Some of these projects ask people to do things and participate, but have no critical substance behind their actions, or else create an experience that ultimately a community doesn’t really want or need. The artwork that I chose to highlight in Performing Economies emphasizes artists who are investigating the ways in which participatory and collaborative approaches can challenge the socio-political context in which they are produced. These projects function as social critique rather than style and have direct political content rather than empty symbolic gestures.
How can we—the Los Angeles community—access these people and these types of events outside of Performing Economies?
There are some great alternative art spaces in Los Angeles where people can find the types of events that are part of Performing Economies. There is Machine Project in Echo Park, Outpost for Contemporary Art and Sea and Space Explorations in Highland Park, Beta Level and the Public School in Chinatown and g727 and Farmlab in downtown Los Angeles. These are just a few examples of a growing movement in the Los Angeles art community. LACMA recently hosted a day of ephemeral projects with Machine Project and MOCA has started a series of events called ‘Engagement Parties.’ I think museums are currently trying out different methods of hosting this sort of project.
What advice would you give to people looking for ways to create and interact with alternative economies in their own communities?
What I have learned through researching and creating artwork for this exhibit is that there are currently thousands of alternative economic structures in the world and these movements are currently gaining momentum. I merely had to scratch the surface and was amazed at the plethora of complementary economies that are in existence all over the globe. Here in the city of Los Angeles you have the Echo Park Time Bank and a Co-Op starting in Highland Park. Some great examples of alternative economic structures can be found on the websites of the E.F. Schumacher Society and the Local Exchange Trading Systems—LETS. However, in many ways these alternative economic structures are only making up for the enormous problems of our national and international economic systems. Along with creating our own local systems, people need to pressure our government to initiate necessary reforms and changes to our current economic system.

PERFORMING ECONOMIES THROUGH SAT., JULY 25, AT FELLOWS OF CONTEMPORARY ART, 970 N. BROADWAY, STE. 208, CHINATOWN. CLOSING RECEPTION 2 PM / FREE / ALL AGES. MORE INFORMATION AND GALLERY HOURS AT FOCALA.ORG. VISIT ELANA MANN AT ELANAMANN.COM.

Sara Newey and Christy McCaffrey endured hours of exposure to toxic chemicals and hamburger patties, emerging as a pair of friends who have created an alien baby, beautified Sea World Tokyo, survived a streetfight (against one another), constructed a boat, mastered the art of landscape architecture, and built a forest inside the Machine Project gallery in Echo Park. This interview by Drew Denny.

What is the name of your forest?
Sara Newey: Forest.
Christy McCaffrey: I don’t think we every really named the forest. We just kept calling it ‘the forest’ or ‘the goddamned forest.’ There were a couple of volunteers who made a particularly impressive bush that they named Reggie, though.
What is it made of?
SN: Fake trees, real trees, fake dirt, real dirt, fake rocks, real rocks.
CM: We couldn’t use too many real things because of the length of the show. All the real
plants are shade-loving plants like ferns and moss.
What types of flora and fauna are represented? Is this a representation of an actual forest? Did you consider real ecosystems and attempt to create a realistic combination of species or were you guided by aesthetics alone?
SN: It’s probably closest to a Pacific Northwest forest, with elements of the woods of New York thrown in. Definitely not an exact representation. We really just went with what was going to be most visually rich—and affect people the most.
What is your history with forests? Do you come from a wooded area? Do you have a garden?
SN: I come from the foothills of the Adirondacks in upstate New York. Christy is from Long Island. A lot of parties in high school happen in the woods on the East Coast. So, that’s how we wanted to open the show—a kegger. I am starting graduate school at Harvard for Landscape Architecture in the fall.
What was your inspiration for the forest? Is this your first foray into the world of forest construction?
CM: Mark wanted us to do a bigger project with Machine and we had been tossing ideas around. We definitely wanted to do something that would transform the space and would use our experience in set design and construction. Sara had done a forest set for a snowboard company a while back and I had helped her. It was really fun and we thought it might be cool to expand on that.
SN: We wanted to build a set without a client. Making a forest inside that could last through a month of activities seemed really challenging—and exciting. We built the forest for that photo shoot on a much smaller scale. It was nothing like this, time-wise. That is one of the interesting parts of this project. We are used to building and breaking down sets in a couple of days, but a month seems pretty permanent to us.
How did you meet?
CM: We actually went to the same college but never met there, which is weird because it’s a very small school. We both ended up moving to L.A. and met through mutual RISD friends out here. We were both looking for work and ended up getting a job doing scenic painting for a set shop together. The long hours and toxic chemicals really cemented our friendship. We did a lot of painting for places like Sea World in Tokyo or Magic Mountain. It sounds a lot more glamorous than it was. We also both made the jump into art department on commercials together. We were PA’s for some crazy but brilliant people who taught us a lot. Everything was very hands-on and we got to do some cool projects—we also got to wash condiments off of hamburgers all day but that’s another story.
SN: One of the funniest jobs was our first when we ‘decided’ we were going to be production designers. We worked together on a low-budget sci-fi movie. For $1,000 we really made some movie magic—but I think we put way more work into it than anyone with any sense would have. Needless to say, we learned a lot about latex on that job since the story was based on an alien baby that we had to make. Fun, though. This has probably been the most exciting project, I think.
CM: We’ve been doing commercials and film for eight or nine years now, but we’ve always tried to sneak different projects in on the side. Sara has done a lot of very artistic photo and prop styling and has started doing landscape architecture. I built a boat, and have continued doing illustration and graphic design jobs on the side.
What do you enjoy about the collaborative process the most? Do you ever fight?
SN: We have had our share of fights, but overall I think we work pretty great together. Generally we trade off minute-to-minute on who cares about the budget, or time, or how it’s looking. It’s sort of great, because neither of us end up ‘owning’ specific parts of the project. Also, we both commit to projects in a similar way—we are both willing to work a ridiculous amount. Really, a match made in heaven—except when we hate each other.
CM: We always say that we take turns being the slacker and the perfectionist. One minute I’ll be telling Sara to relax and quit working on something and the next I’ll be freaking out about the color of something and decide we need to re-paint everything. We go back and forth and that helps keep us balanced, I guess. We are both sort of crazy work-a-holics though. The craftsmanship of everything is really important to us. For instance, with the Forest everything had to be really sturdy and last for a month. It wasn’t like a set which would just have to last a little bit and only look good from certain angles. We went back and forth on the ground structures so many times to get them strong and durable. We ripped up the styrofoam more than once—sort of a low point, but in the end we got it right. Which is good because so many people were at the opening that it could have been a disaster—trees being uprooted, art fans falling through tiny mountains and beer everywhere. We definitely fight. We were pretty good this time, I think we had it out before the project even started, but there was definitely some yelling. There have been tears and a particularly memorable street fight—in the middle of my street—that wasn’t very pretty, but we always make up. I think we both get over things pretty fast. It’s like, ‘I hate you,’ ‘this is about our art,’ pause, laughing, ‘let’s get a beer’—or something to that effect. In the end we did spend probably almost 200 hours together this month—around many dangerous power tools—and we’re both here to talk about it. For this project we had an overwhelming amount of support from Machine and their members. Mark and Michelle helped us get a grant from the Durfee foundation. Then when a movie approached them to film there, they helped coordinate it and put all the location money towards the forest. We also had so many great volunteers who came day in and out to help. It was pretty amazing. People were coming on the bus from the valley and driving from Irvine and Anaheim to help. We had former art students who were psyched to help out on a project and people who were just psyched about Machine. They helped make branches, picked up sand and rocks from Craigslist ads, they brought beer, carved styrofoam, donated the fake grass and built the beer stump. It was such a great out-pouring. We are very grateful to all of them.
Do you talk to plants?
SN: Sometimes. I have two baby redwood trees that I probably care too much about.
What sorts of events are you hosting while this forest exists?
SN: Double feature: Lost Boys and Twilight, lumberjack pancake breakfast, mushroom identification, lecture given by Bigfoot enthusiasts, ghost stories, etc.!
What would happen if I released one hundred bunnies in your forest? Have you considered the possibility of catastrophe—forest fire, invasive species or drum circles?
SN: We would probably end up with a thousand bunnies. Fire has been a concern, but I think we are cool. Drum circles are scarier. I don’t know how we would handle that.
CM: I doubt you could convince even ten bunnies to go out to the forest. They’re so lazy and they hate art. As far as catastrophes… we’ve already filled the forest with babies, a pig, a gecko and a film crew, not to mention having a keg party in there so I think it’s pretty tough. I’m not sure how it would stand up to a drum circle though, and I wouldn’t want to find out. Everyone has their limits.

THE FOREST THROUGH FRI., APR. 24, AT MACHINE PROJECT, 1200 D N. ALVARADO ST., ECHO PARK. 11 AM-6 PM DAILY / FREE / ALL AGES. COMPLETE SCHEDULE OF FOREST EVENTS AND MORE INFORMATION AT MACHINEPROJECT.COM.

Mark Allen (executive director): Machine Project’s Field Guide to LACMA is another way to interpret the museum. I discovered while walking around LACMA that there were parts of it I’d never seen before. I’ve been living in L.A. for ten years, and I’m an artist! I want to lead people to these hidden corners. On my eighth curatorial visit to the museum, I discovered a whole building I hadn’t entered! It took the artists and me three to four hours every time we walked through the museum, and the show will be structured in such a way that it will be impossible for anyone to see everything we’re doing.
How did you pick which projects and artists to include?
Machine Project has been open for five years now, and I invited everyone who I thought would work well in the context. I walked through the museum with the artists, and we generated hundreds of ideas—some just funny to us, some impractical. The process of deciding who and what would be involved was really a group effort. About twenty percent of the projects will be installed. The rest are either performances or workshops. There are lots of cross-disciplinary projects. For example, Corey Fogel’s sculptural sound performance piece—he’ll improvise dance and noise while wearing a suit he constructed out of 300 pepper shakers. There will be musicians in the elevators, a murder-mystery museum visitors can solve, a tour of the ambient sounds of LACMA. There were several ideas that we knew wouldn’t pass. Joshua Beckman came up with the idea of a driving-school valet—people who had just gotten their driver’s licenses would be parking all those BMWs! Then there was the plan to make the museum entrance look like airport security—you have to take your shoes off and put them on a belt, but instead of getting your shoes back at the end, the belt takes them to a big cardboard box and you have to dig yours out before you leave.
Have you met with any resistance? Confusion?
One core aspect of this process has been [LACMA photo curator] Charlotte Cotton’s involvement. She’s such a strong advocate. We developed the ideas with her, and she brought them to the people inside the museum. This really has been an educational experience to work with such a large institution. A much higher percent of our ideas passed than what I was expecting.
What has been the hardest part?
LACMA gave us a budget, and it’s been a challenge to work within that. I invited all the people first, then started working with the budget. I think most people do it the other way around! I’m trying to create a visual picture of how pieces relate to one another. There are various relations—formal, acoustic, conceptual—that weave in and out of each other. Every artist works differently. Liz Glynn has been crucial in this respect. I couldn’t have done this without her. I just had this feeling the other day—imagine you’re standing on a tall building, leaning over the edge, and your cell phone falls out. That vertigo… like, if I hadn’t hired Liz, this show would be a total disaster!
Sounds like you’ve got a good team!
My team consists of Liz and myself on the Machine end of production, with Michelle Yu helping us and also running the gallery. Charlotte and Eve Schillo produce from the LACMA side. The curatorial team consists of the more than forty artists who walked the museum with me and spoke with me about ideas. Then there are about fifty artists. Most of them are people I’ve worked with before, but there are a few new people. There’s a gallery of glass—Greek and Roman glass through the Middle Ages. I really wanted someone to play the glass harmonica, but I didn’t know anyone. Laura Steenberge gave me a name of a man she’d seen play but didn’t know—Douglas Lee. He’s this really theatrical guy who’s played on Japanese game shows and everything! At Machine, I like to bring artists in who can can create something specifically for the space. Joshua Beckman is a poet. He came up with this method of poetry-making in which an audience member suggests a topic, then Josh would say the first word of the poem, his collaborator Matthew Rohr would say the second, and they’d create the poem back and forth. The audience is always thinking about what the next word should be, so it’s a really interesting way to lead people through the process of making poetry. At Machine, we employed that concept a bit differently. We drilled a hole in the floor with a lens then another hole with a pipe and a funnel and a slot in the floor. Participants put their suggestion—along with a tip—into the slot and the size of the poem reflected the size of the tip. At the opening, people were just standing around the gallery talking while one person was pressed up against the floor listening to his or her poem. This is what we’re doing at LACMA: combining my experience of reacting to and working with a particular space and the artists’ willingness to step outside their experience and create something new. One gallery, for example, has a beautiful gothic arch. It was removed from a cathedral and now stands in the gallery. I wanted to fill it up with amps and have a man playing heavy metal guitar for one minute every hour—
Heavy metal church bells?
Yeah! But the curator of that gallery was just not into it. So Sarah Newey and Christy McCaffery—they build sets for commercials and the like—they’re building a replica of it. We’re going to put it on this outdoors porch area that’s behind a locked door. The guitarist will be out there playing one minute of speed metal every hour and people can watch through a telescope that we’re placing at a bank of windows. [Mark shows me an old black rotary phone, with the letter ‘M’ taped to the center of the dialing ring.] This is a rotary phone that I’ve fashioned into a fully functioning cell phone. Every hour, this phone will ring, so you can hear the music through the telephone and see the artist perform through the telescope. This is a good example of how this show has evolved—I have an idea of what’s gonna happen, but it’s probably going to be something really different. The plan is constantly changing.
Do you consider yourself the producer of this event?
The roles are fluid. Concepts emerge out of conversations. I operate on them, but the process is collective. My primary role is just the facilitator-catalyst-e-mailer.
So what’s next for you and Machine Project?
Here’s a picture of my mental space: there’s the election, which takes up about six hours each day. I’m checking blogs and reading reports and polls. Then there’s the event, which I’m working for every day. Two days after the event, my girlfriend Emily Joyce and I are going to Bali and Singapore. Emily’s dad works in Singapore, and her parents travel back and forth so much they gave us frequent flyer miles! Then the future ends. I guess there’s the book…
LACMA’s publishing a book about the event?
The book will be a guide to thinking about the museum. The projects that happened and the projects that didn’t happen will be treated the same way. The next thing will be our 4th annual Fry-B-Que. Five dollars—all you can fry. We rent the apartment upstairs for visiting artists—Josh Beckman will be staying up there to write the main essay for the book. He’s looking at 19th century naturalism, a period when people were interested in everything—natural phenomena, art, music, science… That’s the ethos that exists here at Machine Project. Josh’s girlfriend Jen Bervin is an artist, a poet, and a pie consultant. She’s an expert in pie and works with restaurants. So we’ll be having lots of pie-related activities. A pie-off/fry-off, if you will.
The Machine Project history is rich with tradition. How did this all start?
I moved here to go to CalArts, graduated and joined a collective called C-Level that had a basement space in Chinatown. It still exists there under the name Beta Level. I was living in Culver City but wanted to move here (Echo Park) because all my friends lived here. I saw this store front for rent, and I moved in. I used it as a studio and hosted a few events. The events built up, so i turned it into a 501c3 non-profit. I got a grant, hired Michelle, and she wrote more grants. You know, if you just keep doing something, it builds momentum. I’m interested in different kinds of things—poetry, music, science. I wanted this space to be public. We host participation-based events and the events are free. Plus I get to see all the things I’m interested in without having to leave. It’s like having a party at your house so you don’t have to drive home. This year’s interesting because we’ve been invited to all these different events—GLOW in Santa Monica, the L.A. Art Fair… LACMA is the biggest. It’s not about Machine as a venue but Machine Project as a collective activity. I love this location. It’s mission control hub, and the building is a family base. Everything you need is in walking distance—groceries, the cafe, Taco Zone.
Best taco truck in L.A.! This is building is a good spot. Were you affected by the recent fire?
The fire affected the apartments upstairs. The cafe had lots of water damage, and we had a little bit, too. I almost had a heart attack, though, because my landlord called and told me, ‘The building’s on fire!’ We had an electronics workshop, and we had a robotic-blimp-making workshop that day. I envisioned a mini-Hindenburg!

MACHINE PROJECT’S FIELD GUIDE TO LACMA ON SAT., NOV. 15, AT THE LOS ANGELES COUNTY MUSEUM OF ART, 5905 WILSHIRE BLVD., LOS ANGELES. 12 PM / $8-$12 / FREE FOR MACHINE PROJECT MEMBERS / ALL AGES. LACMA.ORG. COMPLETE PROGRAM INFORMATION AT MACHINEPROJECT.COM. VISIT MACHINE PROJECT AT 1200 D NORTH ALVARADO, ECHO PARK.