My words are pretty simple.
I wrote these words for this mural. It’s made of more pushpins then you ever want to imagine.
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Think Indian
The latest campaign for the American Indian College Fund.
My role was the “Writer”, but I worked with a team that was pretty generous with sharing the creative decisions. Creative Directors: Dan Wieden & David Kennedy (plus Jed Alger), Art Director: Patty Fogarty, Art Buyer: Mia Chong-Hanssen, Media: Jonas Green, Account Director: Elisa Silva, Photographer: Grant Delin, Illustrators: Souther Salizar, Silja Goetiz, Cecilia Carlstedt, Option-G and Ryan Jacob Smith.
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Castor & Pollux Pet Food
These are some pages I wrote for a pitch that didn’t make it to print. It was a sweet little challenge to get into the mind of the average middle aged pet lover by way of the average pet’s mind.
This work was done at Leopold Ketel & Partners. Jed Alger & Andrew Reed were the creative directors and Austin Hilde was the art director. If you ever get a chance you should totally work with these kind folks.
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The Oregonian
Gentleman’s Club
(this was an intro to an art show, paintings of balding bearded men)
The Oregonian Gentleman speaks loudest through his actions. He tips street musicians. He offers bubble gum and tobacco to strangers. He picks up your jacket when it falls off the chair. He jumps into freezing rivers to save injured animals. He handwrites letters to friends and family. Even his presence on the downtown bus causes you to tingle with comfort, glad that he is there.
The Oregonian Gentleman is sensitive. Of course he cries at movies like the rest of us, but his version of sensitivity is more like a hunter’s sixth sense. He stays alert, wide-eyed, ear to the tree and hand on the ground. He is sensitive to every breath and branch snap. Like a good naturalist or artist, the Oregonian Gentleman stays in touch and digs his roots deeper with every consideration.
The Oregonian Gentleman is kind. His generosity knows no limit, often letting others take credit for his good deeds by signing their names into the work he crafted by tooth and nail. It is a unique sort of selflessness that allows the man to give and forgive without any hope of an exchange.
The Oregonian Gentleman is resourceful. Living closer to the environment than most of us, he knows that resources are limited. To live within nature’s obvious boundaries he salvages all that he can and reuses it. Often he resembles a beaver or a squirrel due to his so-called “junk collection”. To this he only shakes his head, smiles and say’s “I can’t believe they threw this away”.
The Oregonian Gentleman is strong. If he has muscle it’s only because he commutes by bicycle, turns wrenches, or swings an axe. His willpower gives him the strength to move mountains, dam rivers, build homes and repair things with duct tape.
The Oregonian Gentleman is not hungry. He is content, satisfied with his own life, balanced and humble. The Gentleman never begs, but he is courteous enough to say “please pass the butter”.
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Fruit of Men (a list of real and unreal inventions)
-switch blade with comb for blade
-silver spork
-waterproof matches
-chocolate milk
-slip on shoes
-checker pattern zebra
-neon paper
-coffee flavored tea
-gold teeth
-ice cream flavored condoms
-double sided tape
-cake flavored ice cream
-gas powered bicycle
-big ass pocket knife
-camera phone with built-in credit card
-sustainable rocket
-authentic Native American computer
-portable rope swing
-buy one get on free (beer & cigarette)
-ID microchips in dogs
-GPS microchips in missing children
-cheap movie theaters that serve pizza and beer
-American Gladiator
-Hulk Hogan
-hulkamaniaics
-water purification straw
-corn
-Elk jerky
-chalkboard spray paint
-magnetic paint
-Maple bacon donut
-flashlight lighter (doubles as bottle opener)
-Pocket Chainsaw
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CAMP (my book)
I gave an advanced copy to my boss Dan Wieden (I work at an ad agency) and after reading half of the book he told me that it was “Mythic”. I thought, “Fuck you Dan.” Later in the week I read a little something about myth. People like Joseph Campbell think myth isn’t just a collection of lies strung together to tell an entertaining story, rather it’s pure condensed truth arranged in a way that we can see ourselves better with. In sort, we are myth. Maybe it’s a little confusing, but hear me out.
All the characters in CAMP are real people; I didn’t even change their names. Mostly all of them are friends I wish I had more time to spend with. When I sat down to write this book (in just three days) I thought I would write it about my friends to show them how much I love them even though I don’t show it. The book started out with Sally crawling out of a creek, I haven’t seen her in years, but we used to live the good life together as house mates in Arcata, CA. Arcata is in the Redwoods and that’s why this story takes place there too.
The twins are real too. Matt and Josh grew up with me in Burbank, CA. We rode our bikes in the foothills, skateboarded all the schoolyards and had a lot of fun together. Years after I moved away Josh hunghim self. He does so in this book too, but the beauty of myth allows me to give his death the true meaning, as I understand it, he died trying to protect his innocence.
Greg, the lead character, is also real. He is my big brother. Although I grew up as an only-child, the two boys my dad had with his previous wife were never far. You see my parents moved to Canada and build a house from scratch right before I was born. The boys, Greg and Donald, grew up there in the woods. They climbed trees, dug snake pits, caught wild animals and had the time of their lives living wild and free. Shortly after I was born my parents split and I ended up in Burbank. Growing up with the stories of these two mythical brothers running wild in the woods I always felt a little cheated and eventually grew to romanticize the Pacific Northwest as a sort of Holy land, the mythical place of my creation. I longed to return and live life to my full potential wild and free like my brothers. Right before I moved to Portland, Oregon my brother Greg grew a brain tumor and died. He was the biggest toughest guy who ever lived, and if you ever met him you he would make you pretty uncomfortable for he was truly wild. Once he made me ride a wild horse bareback and when it kicked me off he was mad at me for not holding on. I was mad at him for making me do crazy shit like that. Little did I know how much he would continue to inspire me to do crazy shit for the rest of my life and how much I love him for it.
Anyways, myth: it allows us to tell the truth without being retarded by facts. This book is “mythic” and it tells the truth about “me” by using all the people around me. Maybe you do that to, like in real life. All the friends and family you keep near and tell stories about are the ones that represent who you are. Maybe when you die you will live on because of all those people. Maybe you should let them know how much they mean to you?
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Mushroom Hunting
(an article published in the A&C section of the PSU newspaper)
It all started with an e-mail titled “Field Trip?” It ended with microscopic maggots wiggling in mushy mushroom juice atop my kitchen counter.
Early on a Sunday morning Bwana Spoons (radical publisher, curator, artist and general nice guy) showed up at my house wearing a hunting cap, armed with a mushroom hunter’s guide. Soon after, Aaron and Ayumi (also known as “Apak the wonder-filled art duo”) drove up in a nondescript minivan. Hazel, my dog-friend, and the rest of us all jumped into the van and made our field-tripping way into the deepest reaches of Forest Park’s Wildwood trail.
Although the Wildwood trail is in a constant battle with invasive plants like Himalayan blackberry and English ivy, we found ourselves engulfed by native Elderberry, Creeping Oregon Grape, feather-like Cedar branches and titanic Doug Firs who seem to grow too big for their britches.
None of us had ever been mushroom hunting before, so each new ’shroom that blossomed before us was utterly amazing. In order to hunt ’shrooms, the hunter has to look at the world up close and tiny. Just like Hazel, we were on all fours looking and sniffing. Yes, sniffing!
Apparently there is this ’shroom called a Matsutake, it can fetch over $20 a pound and smells a bit like cinnamon. So even Bwana (whose sniffer was clogged with snot) sniffed a lot that day. I think that I got a wee bit buzzed by sniffing something eco-groovy, but it’s impossible to tell because we probably sniffed over 20 types of ’shrooms.
Identifying each strange and beautiful ’shroom became the biggest part of our field trip. Shaggy parasol, earth star and Zellers bolete were among the few that we could find in Bwana’s guidebook. However, one such cluster that brought us to our knees was the Corpse Finder. Yep, these ’shrooms are known for growing out of rotting dead people. The size and shape of the cluster gave way to the shape of a medium-sized mammal about Hazel’s size and shape. After the Corpse Finder cluster we pretty much gave up on the possibility of finding edible ’shrooms.
Crispy, crunchy autumnal leaves paved the trail, but joggers in reflective vests and squeaky sneakers kept our urban environment in sight. We ended up taking some of the Zellers bolete home because the guidebook labeled them as edible. Once Hazel and I were dropped off I turned on the stove and started melting butter in a pan. Unfortunately when I sliced the ’shrooms open an odd juice oozed out onto the counter. Tiny maggots wiggled and twisted in infant ecstasy. Needless to say, I turned the stove off.
I think the mushrooms we took home might have been symbolic of some greater understanding or metaphor, but I don’t know what it means yet. Apak thinks, “It means that all is transient and the best way to enjoy nature is in the moment of experiencing it.” Yeah, that might be the lesson here. The magic of mushrooms is in their spontaneity and surprise. Or, the lesson might be “take a hike.”
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Oregon Tourism: TV Script
“The Road Home”
Voice Over:
The road home is a mirror.
It shows us who we are and reminds us of what we’ve gone through to get here.
The road helps us see beyond ourselves.
Between the tall tree trunks, through the turbulent surface water, and over the canyon walls we see in our hearts what matters most, our home.
Oregon has a thousand different roads, yet every road leads us home.
This landscape echoes our values, our personal history and our dreams.
It’s just as responsible for us as we are for it.
As wagon wheels and canoe paddles brought those who came before us, the road brings us here.
Today we travel the most scenic, the most curvy, the most café garnished and the most personal road home as our beloved state turns 150 years old.
We’ve come a long way, but we still have plenty of road on the horizon.
So celebrate Oregon’s sesquicentennial birth date on the road home.
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Career Builder: Job Envy TV script
In red electric clock numbers 6:00am blinks as the alarm sounds.
A guy in his late twenties frantically jumps out of bed, steps and slips on cat barf landing on a note he must have written before going to sleep. The note reads, “I hate my job”.
Dashing out the front door in a scruffy suit and tie that obviously don’t fit his style, he slips in dog shit and spills his coffee all over the sidewalk. The spill reads, “I hate my job”.
Just then two goats pulling a wagon loaded with cash, confetti and a giggling half naked version of the same guy walk over the spilt coffee.
“How was work?” asked the guy in the scruffy suit.
“Awesome!” answers the guy in the goat cart.
Find a better job at careerbuilders.com
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Happy Together. (Target: Back to College 08)
The Inner Mascot quiz is a bio-structural systemic journey towards better understanding your “true self” resulting in informational videos demonstrating how you will interact with others as you explore the academic landscape known as “College”.
Peacock (Extrovert) Ever wonder what caused a boom or bang in the distance? It was an Extrovert like you, who said, “let’s do it”. Let’s go street bowling, let’s play bicycle polo, let’s have a pizza eating contest, let’s take photos on top of that statue of Abraham Lincoln and let’s make that thing over there go boom or bang.
Hermit Crab (Introvert) Some one must have forced you to take this personality test. It’s just not like an Introvert to climb out of their shell. Inside your shell you can think for yourself without interruptions or meaningless chatter. If you’re ever mistaken as shy it’s only because you prefer to think before you speak. Just because you refuse sing karaoke doesn’t mean you refuse to go laugh at your friends while they make fools of themselves.
Dove (Early Bird) Why isn’t there drool dripping out of your face during a 7:30am lecture on Greek algebra? Most likely you are the type who wakes up before the alarm clock. They say the early bird gets the worm, but really they mean you get the freshest coffee and donuts before they get stale.
Owl (Night Owl) Ever notice how the best music is usually played really late at night or watching a movie in the daylight is distracting and weird? You’ve probably noticed these things because you’re a Night Owl. For you, midnight is a mountaintop with an amazing view and getting up early just isn’t you. So long live the evening and ignore the day when the sun rises up you’ll hit the hay. Besides there’s a reason they invented night school.
Turtle (Minimalist) If you like ice cream without toppings, windows without curtains, coffee without sugar or bumpers without stickers you might be a Minimalist. You like to keep things simple and pure, not too simple though like those cats without fur. That’s just gross.
Horse (Clothes Horse) How many shoes do you have? If you can’t remember you might be a Clothes Horse. It’s okay, don’t be ashamed, that mess in your room is a monument to the imagination. After all it takes a lot of thinking to decide what you’re going to wear when you have 15 pairs of shoes to choose from.
Squirrel (Planner) Do you have to check your calendar every hour or do you know where you’ll be a week from today? Chances are you make a lot of plans. When it’s cold you pack a scarf, in the rain you bring an umbrella and during a sing-a-long you know the words. So let it be known, you’re prepared like a boyscout without the weird uniform.
Butterfly (Dreamer) Can we stop the world from turning, silence the ocean, or keep all the trees from growing? No. So why not go with the flow. Dreamers are spontaneous and ready for whatever. Like a rubber tree, when you fall down you bounce back up.
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(Nike: Random 08 Olympic Ideas)
Remember to thank your competition.
Without them you would be slower, softer and settle for less.
They make you better.
They raise the bar.
They reach for further goals.
They dare you to beat them.
Your competition gives you something to push against.
They give you traction.
They give you a reason to push your self far beyond personal limitations.
In the face of failure, competition gives us strength.
So thank your competition, without them you would never triumph.
Go Olympian!
Make the most heroic choice.
Pursue that noble dream.
Compete against the world.
Write history by tooth and nail.
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The Painted Pony (American Indian College Fund: Blanket Hang Tag)
For Northern Plains Indians the horse is tightly woven into their culture. The horse got them off of the ground and liberated them from human limitations. Through the horse each Indian became independent. This freedom however came with a promise. If the rider took care of the horse they would return the favor. The Circle of Life is painted on the horse to remind us all that we are connected just as the horse and rider. We are united in the Circle with respect and responsibility for one another. The Painted Pony blanket was designed by Thomasina Stevens. Thomasina is one of over 5,000 Tribal College students who will benefit from this blanket. By sharing her heritage we may all benefit.
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The Maria Martinez Blanket (American Indian College Fund: Blanket Hang Tag)
The ceramicist Maria Martinez is a monument to Pueblo Indian pottery. Her black on black pottery reached new heights in artistic expression and became world-renowned. Maria developed innovative new skills and techniques for traditional Southwest pottery. However, the knowledge that made her successful had no true value until she shared those skills with her family, her Pueblo and the world. She believed that an individual could not succeed without supporting the group. In that same generous spirit the American Indian College Fund offers over 5,000 tribal students the opportunity to succeed yearly. This humble blanket hopes to remind us all that we can only reach new heights together.
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NAU: a sustainable outdoor clothing company that needed a brand, or a personality.
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The Northern Spotted Owl (a discription of this painting)
A lot of folks are moving to the Northwest from far away places. These folks ought to know about the spotted owl. This little owl changed the course of Northwestern forestry, town life, music and culture forever.
It’s kind of Richard Nixon’s fault, he didn’t think that the United States’ environmental laws where strong enough, so in 1973 he signed the Endangered Species Act. This Act is the world’s most monumental piece of legislation because it works to protect the rights of fish, birds and other tiny critters.
Since the Northern Spotted Owl primarily inhabits Old Growth forests, most Old Growth logging in the Northwest came to a grinding stop once the bird was listed as “endangered” in 1989. In addition logging in national forests was stopped by court order in 1991. Up until that point only fire danger got in the way of clear cutting Old Growth forests, now a mossy old owl stopped everything. Timber harvests dropped 80% and the Northwestern logging industry suffered massive layoffs.
As if a rain soaked, muddy and generally sunless logging town could get any more depressing massive unemployment destroyed all hope. Alcoholism and social abuses of every kind became standard issues for families. However, a new generation was growing up in these sad times armed with something to say.
Pawnshops and thrift stores fueled this new generation with a style that changed the world forever. Grunge was born in the Northwest free from mainstream influences. If the style said anything it was “leave me alone”. Grunge took all problems, all cares, all hope and threw them out the truck window.
Once the mainstream got a hold of grunge and properly harnessed it, the life style that was purely Northwestern became easier for the whole world to adapt as their own. It’s not a bad thing that folks found a new way to express themselves. It’s an epic thing. It’s a thing to celebrate. Grunge might be the reason so many folks have been moving to the Northwest.
We owe it all to the northern spotted owl. We owe it to the Old Growth forest. We owe it to the loggers. We owe it to Grunge. We owe a little recognition to those who have come before us and we owe a little attention to Northwestern culture.
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Let’s Go Camping
Camping has come to mean much more then marshmallows, baiting hooks, chopping logs, digging holes and burying poop. These days Camping is a ceremony or a yoga position, in the way that the motion symbolizes a greater meaning.
Camping means leaving the human-made system behind. Camping means living by natural laws. Camping means living a life within reach, within nature’s limits.
Camping is not a product or service you can buy. It’s a brave call to action, it’s the most heroic lifestyle and it is the deepest meaning of freedom you could physically participate in. To camp is to know what words and pictures fail to express.
Let’s go camping!
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Totem Polar Distortion (an article published by the Old Growth journal)
Growing up in the electric-blanket warmth of Los Angeles County, my only link to my cool, crisp birthplace was a small piece of tourist bric-a-brac, a plastic totem pole. After my birth on Vancouver Island, B.C., my family slowly migrated south until they reached Disneyland. As my mother and I moved from one single-bedroom apartment to the next we packed and unpacked our Canadian souvenirs, including the beaver totem. Its ears popped up like a typical Disney forest character, yet its prominent teeth and hard curved lines looked more like a video game gremlin. The beaver totem has always been with me as a reminder of where I came from and the mysterious Pacific Northwest.
Since my move to the radical and lovable City of Portland I’ve visited the permanent “Grande Ronde Center for Native American Art” exhibit deep inside the Portland Art Museum a couple times. The sheer antiquity and raw appeal of an original perspective on Pacific Northwestern landscape and life itself is deeply magnetic. Artwork like the Tlingit frog hat hits my mind’s eye hard and spins my mental Rolodex recklessly. There is no influence or reference point for Native American artwork. Nineteenth century European landscape painters and modern Japanese pop artists are all anchored in work that came before their “unique” artwork was created. Native American artwork from the Totem Polar region, however, hasn’t any stylistic influences. Totem poles are pure representations of how the first people saw life on Earth.
There were some unavoidable influences as Euro-American traders arrived in the region looking to get rich quick. The otter pelt trade permanently changed the lives of tribes such as the Haidas living on the Queen Charlotte Islands. Imported steel chisels and abundant wealth caused totem pole construction to increase dramatically. Yet at the height of totem pole production, immigrant epidemics struck. Smallpox left only 600 Haidas from a population of 9,000 or 10,000. Whole Tlingit villages were utterly wiped out. However, the totem poles remained as a reference point for all as the Pacific Northwest became repopulated and native tribes recuperated.
All Totem Polar artwork begins as a useful object. A potlatch ladle, a storage box or any religious ceremonial tool is adorned with crazy, distorted images. Because the artists have to apply their ideas to existing objects they have to deconstruct the images in their minds then reconstruct them onto, or into, the object. For example, if you imagine all the visual characteristics of a raven separately - wings, beak, eyes, etc. - then put all those characteristics together on, say, the handle of a canoe paddle, it’s a totally distorted way of viewing nature. It’s psychedelic!
The Totem Polar tribes had no system of writing, so totem poles were erected to express stories and symbolize powerful steps up the social ladder. Apparently, you are supposed to be able to read totem poles. I can’t do it, but I’ve read a couple books with common stories that the poles relate. A lot of poles explain the origins of traditions, such as salmon taboos or how fire came to the world. One of the most common characters is the raven. He is usually referred to as Yethl and his mischief gets him into many funny situations.
One of my favorite stories about the lovable Yethl is the one in which he tries to sleep with the chief’s beautiful wife. When Yethl opens the box in which she is kept and lifts her up, two small birds that were concealed in her armpits fly up into the sky, informing the chief, who consequently orders the seas to rise and flood the land. Hee hee, that darn Yethl.
Totem poles are much more than touristy. They are the most radical and distorted artistic representations of the natural world. We should be proud and honor the tribes who made totem poles a monumental part of Pacific Northwest identity. The next time you see a plastic totem pole on the thrift store bric-a-brac shelf, check it out - it’s psychedelic.
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Dear Phil Elverum, (an interview)
I have been on the living room floor listening to and reading your No Flashlight album. Its sincerity reminds me that having a personal relationship with abstract/unspeakable/unseen ideas is possible and well worth the effort. The huge map you included with the white-vinyl record and CD really helped guide me deeper into the album. Your song explanations go beyond the sound of music and lyrics. What you have created is not an album of songs but a treasure map with atmosphere. If more songwriters included explanations to their songs, less people would be thrown off by the tragically hip.
I have some interview questions for you. If you could please find the time and generosity to answer them, I would give you some thanks.
Sincerely,
Justin “Scrappers” Morrison
What does Mt. Erie mean?
All the songs.
What is the difference between writing poetry and song lyrics?
No difference.
What are the most common misunderstandings that exist between the “hearer” and the “singer”?
I cannot generalize about that. There are a million understandings and misunderstandings.
In “Stop Singing” the idea is that singing about the world (a dawn for example) is to stop experiencing the world, as if you can’t sing and listen at the same time. Isn’t artistic expression (singing in the rain) a form of experiencing the world or being more connected with it?
To me it seems like we experience the world, then sing about it. When I sing I am only experiencing my own self singing. To me, “experiencing” happens when I am empty, quiet and receptive.
How are your photographs like your songs?
They are very similar. I think those photos are the closest visual version of the sound I try to create, and the world I try to make in the words. In many cases the song is inspired by a photo. One way the photos are like the songs is that the photos usually don’t look like the real world through the naked eye. They’re night photos with long exposures and stuff. So, they are an exaggerated expression of the world, just like the songs are an exaggerated expression of the same world, but in word and sound rather than in color.
Why the big foldout poster and map instead of a book?
I like imagining people in the act of unfolding it and unfolding it and unfolding it, surprised that it keeps going. I would like to do one 100 times as big.
The point of No Flashlight, I think, is to find our hidden sensitivity, on our own without the help of a flashlight in the dark. Why is sensitivity worth the trouble?
Some people prefer to be numb and asleep I suppose. It’s worth the trouble to me. I prefer to wake up. That’s also why I think drugs are dumb.
Can you explain how the night overflows with generosity?
Because it is empty. In the dark you could be anything anywhere. This is generous in the same way that being a good listener is generous. The night is completely receptive.
In a song explanation you wrote, “Fuck ambition. Fuck nostalgia. Fuck perfection. Fuck fuck.” I think it’s a good idea, but how can we do this?
I just meant that we don’t have to try so hard. “It’s not meant to be a strife.” “Everything is given, nothing is due.”
In “What?” you admit that you are not as sturdy as a mountain, but more like thinning clouds. Is this a sad realization?
No, it’s a relief. It’s like a football player admitting that he wants a kitten. Everyone knows it’s sweet and honest and rich to surrender.
Is wilderness real? If so, got any examples?
Wilderness is real, but I was just saying that also Everything is real. Since I have written so many songs that apparently take place in “nature” I have become known as a “nature type of guy” and I feel like it’s sadly missing the point to focus on this idea of an “unspoiled original world.” It would be dishonest of me to only sing about soft mossy groves with newborn baby deer jumping around in them. It’s 2005. I’m making vinyl records out of petroleum and cutting down forests to make my huge posters. I am not that hypocritical. My point about nature is that we are in it now, where we live, and that a good “wilderness management” plan is actually just a good “neighborhood management” plan, because why should we look at ourselves and the machinery of our existence as “spoiled” or “less pure”? It is better to become acquainted with the little wild parts still left inside ourselves and look at the parks as the same world as our parking lots. No park boundary.
Thank you,
Mr. Phil Elverum.