[ it's no secret that i like old things. ]
growing up i never pictured myself at 32. seriously. never… i always had a live-in-the-moment mentality and didn’t worry too much about the future. it kinda makes life interesting now as i discover new things about myself without any preconceptions. for instance, who knew i’d be sportin a beard. i stumbled upon it about five or six years ago and it never left. weird. beyond my appearance though, there are other traits i never thought i would become accustomed to either, like being a total mess… i used to be the neatest, cleanest freak in the east (of LA). i’m the one who invented o.c.d. and now i kind of enjoy a little clutter. or i always liked bright colors… but thought it would just be a phase. nope. give me the zarape baby. and i love running. and reading. who wouldof thought…
recently, i’ve been reflecting on who i am and things i surround myself with. my over-arching conclusion is that i like old stuff, things of the past, vintage – if you will. i took and collected loads of snap shots of some old stuff that i find a new kind of joy in. it’s just my style.
a coca cola sign in our backyard says it all. “s(old) here.”
like the stripe on my old 1975 open road motorhome.
or the brown of my ‘77 vw bus.
the brand name and logo for the carpet cleaner that my dad got from his dad.
my collection of LA’84 olympic memorabilia.
can’t hate on the psycho stick (mini) with slimeball wheels.
the stove in our ancient 1970’s apartment.
the vintage vans that dr. canova hooked me up with 15+ years ago.
the wood working tools from grandpa.
a logo that reads well in motion. from my father-in-law’s history.
the harmonica from grandpa cooks.
an old solvent label from rose’s trash can.
my famous pimp chair.
and hanging lamp that no one likes except me.
how about that. a ‘91 ford taurus fender from the junk yard.
random shot in LA can’t ignore the colors.
random truck in an arkansas gas station. with a bunch of junk.
arkansas again. self-explanatory.
the letterpress room at csuf.
some old books on my shelf.
the wannabe old record player from target, circa 2007.
the fridge from a cabin in lake arrowhead.
the butter door inside that fridge.
and finally (well, not finally… i could find 100 more things, about 3 that i’m starring at now, just too beat to take anymore photos.) the butter label found in a vintage painters case from a garage sale a few years ago.
old. yes.
new. always.
change. never.
i’m just me.
