The cool kids hangin with Mod Sun on the Cheyne video shoot

Some parents shuttle the kids around to soccer practice or  lacrosse game, some parents do,well….. other things. About a month ago we had the opportunity to put our kids in a music video. We were contacted by a friend and artist that we’ve known for a while now and is originally from the Ocean City area. Cheyne Truitt  has made a good name for himself in the piercing world and in the last couple years in the hip-hop world.   Hailing from OCMD, Cheyne has partnered with drummer Matt Thorson and now lives, works and makes music in the DC area.

But when it comes to videos he  always comes back to where he was born and bred to give a little love to the city that made him who he is.   Cheyne never is at a shortage of words.  Rapping genre bending music with hip-hop on one end, and punk on the other he seems to be a natural fit. He approaches his craft with the same tenacity that he to approaches everything.  He has opened for some major headliners and with a new record coming out, looks to further his career.

When he contacted us to help be a part of the music video for “Spirit of 94” which features national recording artist Mod Son we jumped at the chance. Interestingly having a reflective nature of the song he had actually wanted our kids to be involved to represent some of his years growing up. We have instilled in our children the sense of adventure and music appreciation that would enable them to be willing participants in such production. After two afternoons of shooting at the boardwalk in Ocean city and at our house in Berlin   We are  excited to see the final product and the part we’ve played in the Spirit of 94.    ”It was all a scheme…..”

I also came home and searched through all my past Bond & Bentley shots and decided to compile them here…

This is the part where you tell me how good the Walking Dead is, or how riveting the drama of Animal Planet, or the deep intellectual benefits of the History Channel. I’ve been having arguments about the comparative worth of television since O.J. Simpson was known  as a mediocre actor. And it boils down to this: I don’t think I’m better than you because you spend money on things I don’t see value in.

But, when people get angry, defensive or even genuinely perplexed that I don’t respect television, it is with an addict’s attitude. If you have any real emotions about my television hatred, you are inferior to me. Also, you’re not going to see this because, somewhere, there is tension in the duck carving studio, or whatever the hell happens on Duck Dynasty.

It’s your money, and you can do whatever you want with it. Especially since you know your Walking Dead money and your Animal Planet money and even your Duck Dynasty money goes to ESPN.

Now, I don’t mind ESPN per se. Although their website is an utter horror show, they do sports coverage well on radio as well as on television and they pay for one of the first premium longform journalism sites on the Internet: Grantland. (Actually, I guess you pay for that. So thanks.)

But ESPN’s success has encouraged people who don’t cover sports to be more like ESPN. Specifically, CNBC Money. Now that I go to the gym with some regularity, I get to see this a lot. I used some of the money I don’t pay for Duck Dynasty on an upgraded YMCA membership. Yes, I know it’s sad to pay for the “high end” YMCA, but it counts as luxury to me and it’s worth the $15 per month.

The locker room has the television blaring constantly and often the blaring is two CPAs disagreeing over the latest tax law. Now. Whether Michael Jordan is the best athlete of all time could reasonably be settled in an ESPN-style screaming match. Whether or not millions of viewers should invest their life savings cannot. No one is served by important things being influenced by screamed sarcasm, or by a corespondent’s tone of derision when reporting.

In case you missed it, I’ve been reminded John Stewart (another show I don’t see regularly) said pretty much the same thing when he trashed CNBC’s Jim Cramer.

Lately, I’ve taken to turning the TV off when I walk into the locker room. If there’s someone there, I’ll ask if they mind (no one seems to or at least won’t admit they do), then snap it off. On occasions when I succeed (often, there is a room full of guys watching last night’s highlights, and it would be rude to ask) it stays off; sometimes for an hour, sometimes more. I feel a little bit like Tyler Durden, a revolutionary in the war against the mundane.

True, it is sad when turning off the television feels like fighting the power. But what must it feel like to turn it on? To be compelled to fill the silence with arguments about dividends and whether or if we’re entering a bear market? It’s probably a false dichotomy, but I’ll take pathetic revolutionary over television servant any day.

We do the Todcast each week at Burley Oak Brewing Company. Take a listen below or subscribe here

A little Good Clean Fun at our back yard bar, The Crow bar.  With craft beer from Evo and Burley Oak Bluegrass Music with Nate Clendenen and Sam Guthridge.

CGI characters in movies can be rendered more accurately. They could look more like real people than they already do, but audiences would find the movies unwatchable. The Uncanny Valley is a place we don’t want to be. It violates the edges of both our senses and our imagination.

It could be said artist Patti Backer works in the Existential Uncanny Valley. Her art could be described superficially as whimsical—fantastic creatures with large eyes and overly cute faces. But the faces have a darkness. There is something wrong about them, but the description feels just out of reach. We are attracted to the way they question reality but unnerved by it at the same time.

Big-eyed art is, Backer recognizes, overdone. But the attraction to her work isn’t that it belongs to a rising genre, in fact just the opposite. Generally, big-eyed art is a blunt object. It falls into two categories: “I painted this to disturb you” or “I painted this because I know cute things sell quickly.” Backer’s work unselfconsciously falls in the cracks between these two extremes.

And then there’s the soot.

It has taken me a few years to get a handle on it, but all of Patti’s work appears to have a nearly-undetectable layer of gray. The eyes are prominent, they dominate most of the painting. As a result people consider the painting’s mood to come solely from the eyes. But is isn’t merely that the eyes are off. It is that the color is off. Baker’s work is both gray and brightly colored. The presence of the gray signals something amiss, but the signs are so subtle, we don’t notice. So the unease is transferred.

The eyes, as it turns out, are the clue rather than the answer. In CGI, eyes are the barrier that create the Uncanny Valley. The random way the light hits them is un-reproducible so the renderings look soulless. This isn’t a metaphysical point, but a biological one. In the Uncanny Valley we are all primitives, as terrified of the unknown as of the consequence of attaining knowledge. We are in a primal panic.

Backer’s creature’s eyes evoke almost the reverse, a psychological double cross. The eyes say, “We’re patently not alive,” but still make an emotional connection. Our fear, then, is that connection. We know the subjects are made with painted, colored lines but still allow them direct address in our minds. They have stories and histories. The assurance they aren’t real and aren’t threatening is what makes them real and threatening.

During this week’s Todcast, she told me said the titular shrimp (pictured as well) was wistful. What it is wistful for is where we are bothered. The shrimp is fake, its psychological pain is real. And even though our rational brain knows better, the primitive in us cannot separate the humanity from the inanimate. CGI people disturb us because they have no souls, Backer’s creatures disturb us because they do.

Backer’s art lies somewhere between the uncensored Grimm’s and Alice in Wonderland. It is the nightmare you can’t explain. And, in the end, I suspect this is what makes her so successful. We are drawn to work like hers because of its surreality. We are attracted as if down the basement stairs (or rabbit hole, I guess), our curiosity about the mystery beyond the dark stronger than our fear.

In the Existential Uncanny Valley, we’re not afraid of death. Instead, having glimpsed its reality, we’re afraid of losing touch with the the imaginary.

Patti Backer will have an opening reception for her newest show, “Talking Birds, Sea Creatures and Animals I have Yet to Meet” 5-9 pm. Friday, May 11 at The Globe. The show will remain up until June 11. Her work can been seen and purchased here. 

Regret the error:

Our guest this week, Patti Backer, is low in the mix. It’s my fault because I did not account for the fact that, being less self-centered than I, she doesn’t bellow into the microphone. Patti can be heard on the Todcast, but sometimes is difficult to understand. I’ll be more careful in the future.

Also in this week’s Todcast, some police hate and the improvised State of the Beer. Take a listen below or subscribe here.

Can I do this monthly??