photo by Denis Jeong Plaster, as far as we know, no relation to Cynthia. Click to enlarge.
Yo! We know, we know, you been calling and we ain’t been picking up. What happened was the repo man took away our phone–but now we got a fresh bag of burners, all good. So if you’re not busy after the holiday, let’s grab a stoop and catch up over some warm 40s. Our (bosses’) treat!
So anyway, we were recently clicking through this gallery of last weekend’s Matt & Kim show in Minneapolis (they’re Williamsburg art kids, Skullphone’s a fan, get acquainted) and noticed the strange location of the club’s mens’ room john. Urinal line-ups aren’t our area of expertise, but we understand this to be a really odd placement for such a thing–most folks want to drop the kids off at the lake in private.
But what’s more important: if you’ve been around these parts before, you probably recognize that slim paint-line tag beside the john, the one that looks like a wiry F-Clef. It comes courtesy of our old Minnesotan friend Deuce Seven. Dude’s still so prolific he even bombs the toilet. Nyuck nyuck.
Welcome back, turkey brains!
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on November 21, 2008