Art equals escape. Who's with me on this one? After all there are a million myths we could write or pictures we could paint about the random contents of an abandoned drawer. Or we could just light the drawer on fire. Either of those options could be fun.

At the age of five I had life figured out - when I grew up I would either be an artist, a scientist, a historian, or a dump truck (not the driver, the actual truck). So when genetics shattered my dreams of becoming heavy machinery, I decided to become an artist who makes installation/performance pieces with a grounding in local history and ecology. Right now I'm working on three separate Art-with-a-captial-A series: Mapping the creeks and slaughterhouses of Butchertown, making paper mache "Urban Camo Seed Bombs" designed to look like litter, and designing more effective eco-street art techniques.

I've also started a blog about urban space called http://www.perceptionfilter.com/ and I'm working on a project to map all the ghost signs in San Francisco which can be found here http://g.co/maps/4mdyb. I'm also turning that blog/map into a self-published book on hand painted street signs in SF because the only thing I hate more than myself is having free time (obviously).

What else? I dabble in costume design and set design for a small theatre company called KoLabs. I used to run a Burning Man theme camp called Costco Soulmate Trading Outlet but I've developed a dangerous, potential fatal allergy to fun fur and glow sticks. *ACHOO* Get out of my immune system hippies! *ACHOO* I also take part in a lot of experience art events and costumed shenanigans. The last one involved Richard Gere's butt, gerbil costumes, and several hundred pounds of shredded newspaper. I swear that's not as fucked up as it sounds. Well, actually, it sorta was... *shrug* Hooray for interactive underground art events and Bad Ideas!

What else, else? I'm building a tiki bar in my bedroom and painting my front door to look like the Tardis. Fuck Yeah Warehouse Living! I'm learning how to boot black because I like the idea of being a street urchin. I have an unhealthy obsession with googly eyes.

Of course none of these things actually pay my bills but that's a different, more boring story.

Using four letter words in the presence of children. Creating a passable pirate costume from 6 scraps of cloth, a couple pieces of trim, and some clothes from a free bin in Oakland. Wearing heels while running to catch the bus, using power tools, or hammering in rebar. Breaking my sewing machine. Taking blurry photos. Talking with my hands to the point where I knock things over. Making weird noises and trying to force my vocabulary of weird snorts and squeals and DARPS! onto other people. Local history especially when it applies to geography and ecology and the use of water/waterways. Thinking about social and physical space. Being kinkier than your Fifty Shades of Grey reading mom and less kinky than your creepy uncle with the dungeon in his basement (P.S. tell him to stop trying to friend me on Fetlife). Plotting evil ways to improve/change/redeem them. Enthusiastically bad dancing and pinball playing. Playing Bad Idea Fairy and the Muse of All Things Evil. Having awkward hair. I mean being awkward and having hair. Oh, nevermind.

That you can never quite pinpoint the color of my eyes.

Sounds: I cannot deny my weakness for a good foppish front man or anyone channeling the Cocteau Twins. This seems to transcend genres although my taste leans more towards the indie side of things. Rdio would say that I listen to a lot of Twin Shadow, Geographer, Future Islands, Yeasayer, Wild Nothing, Grizzly Bear, Grimes, Young Galaxy, Bear in Heaven, and Active Child. I would also add Nick Cave, the Knife, the Swans, Pulp, TV on the Radio, Joy Division, Zola Jesus, Skinny Puppy and Firewater to that list.

Words: I have a weakness for magical realism, dystopian novels, and non-fiction books about local history. The last five books I read were: We by Yevgeny Zamyatin, Bohemian San Francisco - Its Restaurants and Their Most Famous Recipes; the Elegant Art of Dining, In the Country of Last Things by Paul Auster, Wanderlust: A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit, and 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami.

Moving Pictures: I own two Doctor Who scarves, a Blade Runner umbrella, and a Star Trek uniform - this should tell you something about my taste in teevee and moovees.

Pictures: Once upon a time Louise Bourgeois and Eva Hesse were my heroes. Then I discovered Land Art, Conceptual Art, and started going to Burning Man. That seemed to change everything.

* Bad Idea™ notebook
* Roadtrips
* My shitty hipster bicycle
* Absurd knee high socks
* The camera I don't really know how to use
* Being an agent of chaos and evil

That the Ikea in Emeryville was built on top of an ancient burial ground. That Drawbridge is the Bay Area's sole ghost town. That the Mission and SOMA are crisscrossed with buried waterways and that the original waterline downtown is somewhere around New Montgomery Street. The Raven's Manzanita, the California poppy, and the fragility of urban ecologies. The physiology of moss, the logos on bottle caps, and how I can make art about them. How to unfuck the world and build community. Whether $100 is too much to spend on a life-size inflatable Dalek. Would this booze work well with that mixer? Can I redeem this subpar recipe by adding bacon? Would a pirate *really* wear hot pink booty shorts?

Talking with my hands, probably over too-expensive bourbon, about the big ideas and small details that make up life.

I drool and talk in my sleep, and often have vivid dreams where people say they hate me over email.

Let's climb trees, drink whiskey, and talk about art! Let's ride bikes, eat pie, and talk about social justice. Let's go on a road trip, drink all the coffee, and talk about urban space!

Update: 9/26/12
I'm a busy bee with a lot of ongoing relationship type thingees (no primary but one secondaryish relationship and various other Important People), who is bad about checking OKC and answering messages. I will try and be better about that? No promises.