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Editor’s Muse
Be honest. Which would you rather read? Me welcoming you to this brand new magazine called bleach and telling you that it is going to be so unique, so different, and so new? Or me telling you about the exciting features, photo essays, fabulous personalities, and up-and-coming artists that lie in store for you when you turn the pages? Or me telling you about a friend of mine who likes to make art out of crushed snails on canvas?
Exactly! The crushed snails!
For the last few weeks I’ve been reading a horrible amount of editor’s introductory letters and views for the past few weeks from every kind of publication imaginable to refresh myself with what an editor is supposed to do in this white space. Basically it’s a forum for us to tell you about how wonderful we are or how wonderful you are. And if it’s not that, it’s a pedestal for us to dictate, moralize, defend, castigate, applaud, champion, sermonize, or approve of something. Anything. Then there are those editor’s pictures. Goddamn! You editors know who you are and you should be ashamed.
So I know it’s the premiere issue and all, but let’s talk about snails...
I’m at my friend’s house the other night and she tells me that she’s been contemplating long and hard about how to approach art in a new way. Normally the girl just paints. Well, I shouldn’t say just paints, because she does produce some damn good stuff. But she’s a painter. And she’s troubled. Troubled because she feels that to make it in the art world she has to give birth to something unique, extraordinary, and never before accomplished in order to win the attention of the artistic aristocracy. So that she may one day be successful and earn a living doing what she loves. So to make a long story short, she’s gardening, comes across these snails (they’re pests anyway), and voila!–she has a revelation! They’re gooey and crunchy. They have that “natural” thing going for them, she can mix paint with them, and/or apply it later after they’ve dried, and they don’t scream. If people can eat them, why can’t she create art with them? She wants my opinion.
Hmmm? Dead, crushed snails applied to canvas. Mixed wth paint. I tell her it sounds like a winner. Hell, what are friends for.
Michael McCullough
Editor in Chief
Contributed by: Fiel Valdez
http://www.lovelybrand.com
http://www.grafuck.com
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