February 13, 2016

POST_VALLEY





OOF

That darn mysticism of VALLEY can sure stink up the place.
BB is back, armed with fancy sticker pads and nubby erasers she plans to NEVER use.
Ariel is setting a fire to the recording material. She was fired last week, but we're keeping her around for morale. We suffer for our arse AKA still on the look-out for nimble fingers to wind tape. The tracks are setting in a train to somewhere with an inter-dimensional soundtrack - and we're providing the music - with WILDERNESS, a two-tape set of Valley music to inspire awe and pawing around.
The sounds wafting down the hallway from the studio carve out invisible strange into the walls, all the more sweeter the second time around as VALLEY flings its delicate body into stage two, with the further release of materials pertaining to the mystery event, and the evidence that Shalo P is a madman that should probably be locked up for good (or at least paddled).

FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P :
After VALLEY closed, I half-expected free dinners every night,
but carrying this running chainsaw didn't win me too many pals either.



POST_VALLEY

Now with the second exhibition of VALLEY closed forever, only the tangential elements of the project will persist in production until the time comes when full completion is all globbed in perfect pristine puddles at our feet.
Things aren't clean cuts in the real world. Closure isn't necessarily an objective either, when it boils down to extending that elusively glorious thrill.

(How really?)

Don't ask us, but keep on praying to your black glistening idols.

We wracked our brains and wrecked our minds to get close to something real.
All it produced was four sturdy walls that bleed at will, and a mirror on my desk that shivers, shatters,
reassembles - repeat
H. P. Lovecraft had it correct in a few respects: Deep Gods got that dope-ass wifi.

Bask in these failures that drove half the interns mad while out on the company picnic, some leaving to rest in the pale stone caves below the Falcon's Roost, only to come back changed - stretched motley by feasts of soiled seawater. The captain was found cooped in his cloister of stone coffins, amid tense spiders of sweat and mental exhaustion. The girls gathered to draw straws as to who could save the poor man's soul with a large stone's strike. THAT WAS TUESDAY.

THINGS ARE LOOKING GOOD.

From the Desk of Shalo P :
(prolonged, anguished scream)

From the desk of BB :
The sounds sure have been Delia Derbyshire all up in this piece, amid a gaggle of other ladies of strange sound. What if DD had been the inspiration for BB in TVG?

JUST FOR YOU
A taste: "Beginning as trainee studio manager, her troubles were compounded by an addiction to inter-dimensional music, coke-invoked seances, and a devastating preoccupation with a mysterious department known as Television for Ghosts. Perhaps there's an avant-garde ballet of threads of tape... cascade to some mad one's serenade..."

In other news, we're chalking one up for responsibility. TVG has it's own official ledger for 2016. In accordance with Shalo P's perpetual deconstruction of tomorrow, all serious business is peppered with little musings and cryptic records, lest we forget that the mad boss nearly hovers on his shamefully airy persona. 

Your (psycho) ward,

BB
San Francisco, California


p.s.
We're opening up the store with new music and books for 2016 (and eternity's ceaseless loop).


BONUS : Here is a link of Shalo P Discussing Valley  

: )


NEW FROM DOWN DATE








NEW FROM DOWN DATE

Spring came intermittent, flanked by cold daze, swooping into the studio like a gaggle of epileptic flashers.
The curtains flutter, slashed red by kind news.
Although Petey says it's totally more ellipses than a bobsled, even the shadows seem to smile.
The boss paid the player, so it's ultimately his sad ballad to cringe beside (GASP).

SPEAKING OF WEIRD REQUESTS

We've been getting some fun faxes from that fox, the boss. More on that later.
BB is bringing in fun material, earning second place in "troubling us", with Dodo slouching in the gutters behind a liquor store, passing out cigarettes along with trembling excuses on tardy deadlines.
More correspondence from that bunch soon.



NEWS / FEB 2016

We have the sweet 18th for an RSVP Event with THE BEDROOM SUITE at Catharine Clark Gallery in San Francisco. Here's a link with info concerning the NEW EDITION available now.





We also have a fine bit of news with inclusion in :
ALLIED FORCES ANNUAL ISSUE NUMBER ONE
.

Shalo P supplied ten seething pages of thoughtfully cerebral wild. This looks like a very fun book. Please pay these kind independent crazies a visit and taste the sumptuous indiscriminate madness in which they partake.Warmest thanks to Jared Pittack.

more info:
Allied Forces Annual Issue No. 1 is a collaborative publication of visual stimulation, cultural advancements, and literary supplements. ALFA No. 1 features works by Jeffrey Cheung, Yardsale, Jin Young Choi, Derrick Oldman, Ann Le, Muzae Sesay, Joseph Shane, Ken Lorenzo, Shalo P, Lester Del Ray, Charlie Crush, J.L. Coffinwasher, Todd Jr., Erik Zepka, Kenny Meyers, Smet V, Maudry Vallens, Edward Zipco, Santos F Parcs, noa-, Kati Ledar, Ed Fuzuka, Christian Riechert, Jared Pittack, and much more.
Books are available in random stamped and screen-printed editions with cover art by Muzae Sesay.



ABOUT FEB 18.

There's a screening soon. Please check out Catharine Clark's Instagram for information regarding reserving a seat. Hmm. I'm still just on good ole' FLICKR and that thing is still FUN.

We'll be Screening FURNACE (video still, above) along with The Bedroom Suite.
FURNACE takes The Bedroom Suite's immersed narrative of a digital afterworld facing "mystic energies groovily attaining (and surpassing) critical mass" into a more ethereal zone of cosmic sensual cinematic delight, with a mystery journey into its jingle-jangle springing inner-workings, with themes riding fully in the flames of the movie itself.

I went to a psychic and she said "My shows are out of bounds of internet time."
And I said, "Do you mean your show right here, or mine up now?"
She then rejected every offer to dress up like Elvira or wear a red tux. Please see: THIS BRUTAL WORLD.

BB's NEWS :

Hot hash heat studio - BROILER ZONE,
the appendixes to a single heat-lamp blaring on a bare bonnet. Some say hot as hell as I recall,
I say a BEAUTIFUL HEAT! A fucking brilliant one, DAMMIT!
(if I faint I'll feign it was due to enthusiasm)
A knock on the door: it's the famed Johnny Woo and his associate, a silent hovering Sphinx they call circumstance (it's a cut that has him standing that way). BB travelled here to remain propped in bed with the phone cord wrapped around her neck (NICE), balanced like a plank while diddling with the pay pal piper with all ten fingers.
"Pay-up punk", sez SHE. No word yet from yonder giant anthropomorphic insect looming close…

Piper Lady: Your Birthday, Shalo Ma'm…What is your Birthday? 
*long silence, centuries mayhaps*
BB: MMmmmarch…I must confess, haven't the foggiest, really. 
PL: You do not know your birthday, sir? 
BB: I am Jehovah Whiteness. Christ could not afford me a Birthday! 

Still, the piper pays out…two pieces of secret info (Birthday being one, checking account being number other)
and the $10.85 is left for ten fingers to grip later.

AND THAT WAS BB's report on company finances.

We'll open the BEATIFUL HEAT bookstore soon.
There's also some fine music in the works.

Hell Prevails,

SS


links







our Tumblr satellite (run by BB & Dordery Marks)

our Flickr database


January 6, 2016

Shalo P | THE BEDROOM SUITE at Catharine Clark Gallery






We're happy to announce: Shalo P | THE BEDROOM SUITE at Catharine Clark Gallery, opening Saturday, January 9th, 2016, with a reception from 4 - 6 pm in San Francisco, CA, alongside a concurrent exhibition featuring the vibrantly phantasmagoric brilliance of the work of Masami Teraoka in the main gallery.
We'll both be giving artist talks around 4.

https://cclarkgallery.com/
https://cclarkgallery.com/exhibitions/shalo-p







The Krowsworker's Festival / Dale Hoyt's FARM world premiere




THE KROWSWORKER'S FESTIVAL / DALE HOYT'S FARM WORLD PREMIERE
FEATURING: Liz Walsh, Janet Norris, Laurence Elias, Hillary Maslon, Rik Ritchey, Jeff King, Gina Werfel, Hearne Pardee, Lili White, Lorna Stevens, Milly West, Maggie Preston, Nicole Shaffer, Amelia Williams, Alan Clark, Rebecca Najdowski, Robert Beier, Torsten Zenas Burns, Darrin Martin, Shalo P, Farley Gwazda, Indira Morre, Juan Carlos Quintana, Carlo Ricafort, Sonya Rapoport, Paloma Modupe, Laura Zuspan, Dale Pendell, Daniel Konhauser, Anne Lesley Selcer, Jonathan Mindes, Kit Young, Margo Majewska, Eddy Falconer, Kim Miskowicz, Carol Selter, Jason Engelund, Jeff Rosier, Carolyn Radlo, Alanna Simone, Tim Graveson, Christina McPheeMinoosh Zomorodinia, Leslie Zablan, Lauren Ari, Ron Weil, Kathy King, Kally Williams, Barbara Kyne, Laura Pendell, Monet Clark

Join us for the premiere of FARM, a 3D experimental melodrama and abstract narrative that uses multiple story lines, fractured editing, and pulsating color fields to tell the story of a fictional urban farm co-operative in a withering decadent San Francisco. Written and directed by Dale Hoyt and produced and engineered by David Lawrence it may be the first video art project in RealD Cinema 3D. The work comments on loss, family disfunction, merciless progress, and mortality. Shot with the generous cooperation of The Free Farm and the Alemany Farms, this tragicomedy invokes gentrification as a symbol for the greater fatalistic existential crises that face the world and every personal soul. Featuring a score by Chrome, Annette Peacock, Cameron Ember, and Lian Amber and featuring Cliff Hengst, Winston Tong, Helios Creed, Annie Sprinkle, Monet Clark, Róisín Isner, and the final screen appearance of the legendary Arturo Galster.

Presented as an installation with timed entry to each screening.

OPENING: January 1, 2016, 3-7 pm
CLOSING: January 10, 2016 2-4 pm 
PERFORMANCE BY PALOMA MODUPE: Friday, January 8th, 8pm
OTHER HOURS: Saturday, Jan 2 1-5; Friday January 8th, 4-8; Saturday, Jan 9, 1-5.

FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P :
KROWSWORK Fest is a marvel of the new, bold, and bombastic. Plus Paloma Modupe dances an ode in the key of VALLEY.

krowswork.com
2015 RESIDENTS
krowswork.com/krowsworkersfarm.html





November 25, 2015

ATOM HEART AND BEYOND THE INFINITE





ATOM HEART AND BEYOND THE INFINITE
SOLO ORGAN 
TWO Bay Area record party jam-outs for the SOLO ORGAN "ATOM HEART AND BEYOND THE INFINITELP!!!
Special one-time prices on LPs & limited edition shirts!


From The Desk of Shalo P :

WE HERE AT THE HIVE PLAYED A HAND IN THE VISUALS
FOR OUR PAL, THE METAPHYSICAL HAMMOND CHANNELER, SOLO ORGAN.
LIMITED EDITION FUN.
sp

San Francisco FRI DEC 4th
Artists' Television Access  (21st / Valencia)

SOLO ORGAN 
BLACK SPIRITUALS
ETTRICK


West Oakland SUN DEC 13th
LCM  (8th / Peralta)
SOLO ORGAN
GODDESS APHONIC
BROWN UN
TRIGGER-INVERTER





November 19, 2015

READING AT MISSION COMICS AND ART






They came down from Carson City. A few travelled on the backs of bears.
Some made home between the panels of pages, tunneling to China through a piece of paper with self-reflexive VIGOR.
I came in where the story went strange, "Saturday's Alright for Fury" was promptly placed behind me, as the title came on while I broke my way into the SFMoMa to pee on some paintings. Quiet night on the east garden letting the wind manhandle my mad nakedness. Then I thought about all that jazzy new material I had set to be READ ALOUD by someone dressed just like me (same face, same hair, glasses, everything) pretty darn soon. 

Dasha SevaShalo PScott Longo, D. McKeever




VALLEY / BABY GOT BACKSTORY





1. VALLEY - FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P

MOUTH TO MOUTH WORTH DROWNING FOR.

BABY GOT BACKSTORY.

WITH DUAL SUNSETS CLOSING IN AT BOTH SIDES.

V A L L E Y  is a sprawling multi-dimensional body of work (books, writings, sound, video, etc)
set to the tune of ominous gloom.
Its composer, Shalo P is reticent to speak about the project in full, some blame his nervous nature, or the fact that he hides himself away for months at a time in an office steeped in books and dust. 
We do receive letters though, sometimes referencing a certain mythical personal figure, or else going on about the nature of "The Sister Spread" as an aspect of immediate memory, the frenzied free-time that memory naturally wisps away in its continually coiled recalibration of the self's illusions. 
"We are only who we remember to be", he wrote to us. "As far back as I can recall,
I've been Sister Spread", he added.

If a life were to be mapped out as points that memory guided back, like sign posts, towards some vestigial semblance of an initial self nestled in the primordial influences that doomed us to our natures, so does this exhibition peer back in order to pull this landscape with it like a black cape wherever it treads, like a valley crackling across mountains made of lush styrofoam. 
If these signposts, routinely called "memory" - as unreliable guides as they are - serve some workable version of ourselves for the present, it's still to present merely the opposite of the amnesiac, another bad detective riddled with jumbled clues, conveniently framing some mishandled conclusion with withering fragments of story. "We are only who we remember to be", he wrote. And yet who is to say that this was not written by any of the myriad of interns and secretaries that ensconce the self-styled digital wizard of North Beach?

With VALLEY, Shalo P presents us another way to envision memory's lack by embracing the seemingly dark dense expanses of The Sister Spread, the space between those prized little markers leading back to the only self memory grudgingly allows, like dark energy cradling all the visible. 
It is with dark energy in mind that this valley was conjured.

The spread between memories is a free place, clear of guilt, death, or memory of pain. It is a honest nothingness; the memory of trees, fields, and streams.

As with any intangible idea as heavily depended upon as memory, whose currency frequents self-deception and subtle streamlining, we present the history of what never happened - as it did. 
It crawls best across a new landscape bereft of the familiar. It is a thing complete in its regards to being incomplete. A valley is merely the tendon of mountains, a gulf bridged by the invisible - lush, foreboding, empty, or reaching -
a synergy of viewpoints.

It began as a investigation into exciting forms of lust, although unfaithfully it simply mutated violently into another creature.

From The Desk Of Shalo P:

The original concept was bound by an oath between artists concerning the other as sensual canvas, with hungry bodies expressing wordless whimsy, with only a glittering gulf between them swarming with tigers.

It served as a natural extension of the work I'd made resulting from friendly dares, deals, and promises. 
I'm like a vampire. I needed to be invited.
(honestly, I just need fresh warm blood...)

- sp

The work held solid promise, as the lengths they reportedly took to woo one another often took turns vicious and frightful.

After the project eventually fell through, a vast emptiness lay before the artist. 
Whilst his collaborator's works were summarily pulled from the project, his still lay still abed in thoughtful incubation. 
It would take some years to grasp a shape from within that void, but it did indeed manifest.
"It rose up with a black cape..." he wrote to us in an email,
with an attachment to a music video on youtube by Bob Welch.
"Or was it the black cape that I followed..." he added in the post-script, while also asking for additional money to get some posters done.

We could feel for him. He was left with a project without its other half, and yet stubbornly clung to his promise like Linus Van Pelt's iron grip on his blanket.
"And still, nothing is more intimate than promises kept to an empty room." he said.

When his collaborator opted for anonymity, the codename Sister Spread was adopted, styling her as a refreshed Melody Nelson, a new courageous Vivian Girl, a newly anointed Made In Heaven Cicciolina bristling in bronze. 
But in this case: 
"I could never hope to present the ethereal goddess. I couldn't believe in her, even though it seems that's what folks seem to talk about. But I never met an ethereal goddess. I met a real woman though, much more remarkable, in my opinion. I wanted to present that - but specifically HER. I want the insular logic of stereo obsessions on blast, tethered like a rabid dog to the heavy weight of amorous wants, like all them vials of organs pulled out of that secret scientific research center, and laid out for viewing like in AKIRA... And there is no viler organ than the valley."

Also:
"An interesting aspect of the project is that over the years I incorporated as many and more of Sister Spread's own personal traits / talents into myself as I could, infusing myself in a well of wasted wishes,
knee-deep in coarse whore's hair.
I had wanted so much to be utterly obliterated by ideas. I wanted my body to be scoured by someone else inside my skin, thrashing at the places I pretend are tender.
But In the end I'm uncertain how much of Sister Spread resides inside me... but when I look at my Maze I can't tell if I'm the Minotaur of the Medusa either."

These are the new gestures apparent in the work: 
"They say La Saranghina is the devil. But Sister Spread expanded my way of thinking.
I thank her by setting my self on fire".

VALLEY is a series of whimsical gestures bridging a complex rift.
It's a searing journey of sorts, with liminal discoveries lying somewhere mysteriously beyond the horizon over the horizon. 
The original premise was based on mutual lust, now it's all ostensibly about _______.

As Shalo P is wont to say, "Hell Prevails",

San Francisco
Oct 2015





2. SHALO P's description of VALLEY

V A L L E Y  is a series of whimsical gestures bridging a complex rift, spurned on by a couple of awful freaks.

Taking advantage of our respectively rambunctious fiery personas, along with a shared fondness for flair, we initially approached the project as artists bound by love and duty. The goal was to evolve a call / response framework of frenzied pitter-patterned adulation with honestly scathing bittersweet scintillation. It was a noble quest for those of restless sex, but reality's fangs fared sharper than oaths.

With VALLEY, the investigation takes place long after the fact, to thoroughly assess what remains
to be gleaned with "ruse-tinted" frames.

At first, it presented a blend of structured, and semi-stream-of-thought books of funnies, and yet it expanded into videos, musical compositions, as well as a series of essays, parables, and poems regarding "The Sister Spread", and the demon named "Lust". 
It has filled out into a strange subdued narrative splintering into facets of self-effacing stories - mirroring, documenting, and paralleling in tone the ultimate shape of the emptiness that engulfed the original project, drawing a silhouette of its absent half - with its exaltation to lost causes full of fire, with its wastelands of wanton energy smoldering in piles of literary lithe.

It's a clever show for clever cats.
Milky thinkers welcome.

love,

Shalo P
North Beach, San Francisco, California




3. A Note on the Initial Death / A Letter concerning VALLEY

Dear Friends,

I wish to confess that VALLEY (the initial exhibition within a physical space) died a quiet death
during the week of Thanksgiving four years ago. 
An open window enabled the warped sensibilities of the work to come through materially,
and the images shriveled up like wet leaves on the dew-dropped walls. 
The show lasted five days. 
Weather, the harsh critic of marriages, boating, and picnics, had poetically foiled a show earnestly concerned with the nature of "wasted energies" - which had also initially been a picnic of sorts, with a grip of small promises I was undoubtedly married to, on this swishing ship called LIFE
An artist is nothing if not bound to certain duties - "finish it" - being paramount.
And yet, re-botched as it was, it was also revived by an ice-cold bucket
of fresh wasted energy: and so the valley widened accordingly.
Sheer resolve became implacable stubbornness on my part.

What had begun as a project fulfilling a lover's pact grew out of scope and form, spurned on by a new spirit.
The appendices to a few scattered rooms became a haunted mansion of ghouls. 
Like a ghost I paced the studio looking for the links to the chains of inertia that kept my corporeal form trapped, which obscured the new shape the project had take before me.

(And yes, the show is cursed, and all that watch it will die or eventually curl into a screaming stone statue.
There, I admitted it.)

This work became a document of a time, and a place crafted by that time there.
It exist now as a shard of moment reigned upon by the ssspirittt of ecstasy.

Please enjoy.

love,
Shalo P
San Francisco
October 2015


THE REVIEW



images shown.
Video Still from "Television For Ghosts : Wilderness / White Furnace" from Valley, Photograph "Watching", Video Still from "Television For Ghosts : The Spy / The Secret Group", Image (collab) "The Descent Down" 

October 31, 2015

SHALO P - V A L L E Y

OCT 17 - NOV 10

M O U T H
T O
M O U T H
W O R T H
D R O W N I N G
F O R

SSSPIRITTT OF ECSTASY / A STROLL 'ROUND MEDUSA LAKE







Hey Ho!

Valley is up. All howls past All Hollows, 'cause the terror is flowing nonstop down the administrator's hilltop.
These days we got devilish good news. V A L L E Y - OCT 17 - NOV 10. An Eternity in one month.
IT'S THE WRATH OF SISTER SPEAD.
Call your pals, and get your hankies 'cause Shalo P's gonna make you laugh 'til you cry.
It's probably just gonna by a lot of weeping and kicking things into corners.
V A L L E Y

Sorry for the INTERNET lags - we make up for it by being negligent! 
We were letting the new girl work on the updates. Can you EVER trust a mohawk? Tell me true.
She made about fifty little paper boats with the notes we supplied, half of them downstream by the time we decided to just write the word "DOOM" on all those sheets ALL OVER AGAIN.
We are priming up for some "choice" fun on Halloween with big news from the office.
There's going to be a personal tour. Check here.

PLUS, this came into the office today (A REVIEW). Some scamp copied it like crazy (along with a bevy of scanned butts) and papered the walls of the workshop like a madhouse. There was a hush when the boss came in. Breath was held. At the office we're kind people - we want the environment to spring forth with cheer,
but surprises are more important.
Anyhoo, Betty's out back crafting a totem pole of crack addicts out of wax with the leftover paper. 

Strange, a message from Linda:
Sometimes I'm asked if Shalo P is real. I tell them: no.

Yep, a tour. Usually, there's nothing like a little silver spray paint to the eyes to make silly requests go away, but this gig is LOCKED DOWN. See you there, unless one of the interns finds that box of spray cans I KNOW I stashed somewhere in the storeroom.
Personally I'm just hankering for a crack at lighting that big ole' pumpkin's head just to see fire spurt from behind his glasses and curly hair.

Fun Fact: Shalo P was originally going to call the show: AKA everything in this universe fought me to finish this sentence, 'cause I'm releasing the blasted thing, or I die right fucking no- 

And that's when I heard news of Shalo P's passing. This was, coincidentally, also his reaction to the walls. He just withers and dies. We embalm him, and then boil his remains, ladling the Shalo P syrup into a tin "The Smiths" lunchbox until he adequately recovers.
Yep...
Just spoke to Sister Spread over the phone. She's fine with me handling things for now. I felt trapped in keeping back that this "mid-career opus" thing Shalo keeps mentioning isn't magically turning into the sort of "loving gesture that echoes out into eternity" like the "human psychic energy reverb" he'd hoped for. It's nice and all, yes, but frankly, Mr(s) Franks, I work alongside him, and I'm of the mind that he's all out of loving gestures these days.

Oh He's fine.

This was his last email:
Did you read the review? It might have a connection to a dream I had of a loud stone echo symphony shaking the trees as distant loping wolves wildly led each other to a moonstone marbly ravine where they all howled, nestled like leaping lizards in the dark lord's ivy bowl, carving out the shape of the sky. The sky was affected like a prism. Can you please send a bouquet of those to the writer? 

What sounds like hell swallowing down a thousand souls playing little laughing pianos? VALLEY.
What reads like an all-at-once novel swirling in questionable literary mischeif? VALLEY.
What do cunningly crafted conceptual comic strip soundtracks and orientation musical mystery thrillers have in common? VALLEY.
SEE YOU THERE.
OR SEE YOU NEVER. (how about a little of both?)


From the Desk of Shalo P:
Let's let the curve get another raise from what we have carved of dark.
But then again, having a three-way with your Calculus and Algebra teachers isn't the only way
to be a Polymath.
sp

Let's motor,
BB


Sarah Burke's Review of VALLEY for East Bay Express