It may well be that what I regard as my sense of humor - not just that, but large tracks of my artistic vision - may in fact just be an extreme form of the Helsinki/Stockholm syndrome. I may be Patty Hearst.At art-school, I was targeted by a group of "upperclassmen". Their very artsy performance piece was to follow me around repeating certain questions and statements.
I recall at one point I ended up underneath one of those little foot-high tables in the quad, surrounded by a chorus of:
"What is humor, Rolfe? What is funny?"
"Tell me about your mother."
"Stroke my knees, Rolfe, make me feel like a man."
While that was happening, I sure couldn't see the humor (or art) of it at all. It was torture. It was terrorism. Worse: it was like being back in Junior High. :)
Then one day Dallas Brunson says to me that they'd deliberated for a long while before deciding who to target. They'd chosen me because they figured I'd get it: I'd appreciate it, and wouldn't wig too badly. With those words, it went from horror to honor.
Looking back, I'm sure that without that transformation, the concept of the postcards never would have occurred to me. Dallas also gave my name and address to a marine recruiter - they sent me some really cool posters. Thanks, Dallas!
5 comments:
Oddly enough...
A daughter of Sara Jane Olson (aka. Kathleen Soliah), the SLA fugitive found living in St. Paul, attended the same high school some years later.
I was working there at the time and on the side trading drugs for guns while raising an army to kick the Mormons out of Utah and claim it for Mars.
True story! In some sense.
I have no recollection of this project that Dallas and company subjected you to, Rolfe. None at all. Were the results any good?
In retrospect, yes. I'm glad it happened. The technical aspects of the craft weren't anything to write home about, but the impact on my life and long-term thinking was powerful. I kind of wish they'd given it a more polished or produced look - had there been costuming or props, I'd have known it for the art it was. Instead, it just felt like hazing.
At the time, it was a very poor choice on their part. They barely knew me. I had just moved from a school were I was under threat of physical violence on a daily basis. I think I came close to snapping that first night they did it.
Had Dallas not made that overture a few months down the road, I probably would have remained bitter about all that for years. Today I have only positive things to say about Dallas. I tend to not talk about his co-conspirators. :)
Take a look at page 149 of our 90-91 yearbook. Ed Caldie didn't hand in a page, but I was helping the yearbook staff in that rush to the deadline...
Huh. I'll go look that up when I get home.
I see Dallas every time I make it back to MN. I enjoy his company tremendously. He's hilariously funny, self-effacing and warm.
Dan Mohr is also a mensch. I can't say I think much of the rest of that bunch.
Say "hi" to Dallas for me next time you talk to him. Let him know I no longer grind my axe.
Not that I suspect he's lost ANY sleep over it. I wouldn't have in his shoes.
Eventually Audie may get around to blogging images of the postcards. Then Dallas will be able to see a lengthy project that he indirectly inspired.
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