Live Free or Die

My friend Eric owns a frame shop in town. He recently set up the shop's web site, built on my fave software WordPress, and has integrated the current brick-and-mortar art exhibit with his site. Eric did an open call for reviewers, and considering I like art and writing, I dove right in. My family and I rubbed elbows with the punkerati on a Friday night, and here's what I wrote. You can also find this review on the EBK Picture Framing web site, as well as a link to the Hartford Courant's review. If you're a local, definitely check out the show.

Live free or die
Armed with the time and inspiration to create, and angst bubbling forth, Tim Wengertsman presents a body of woodblock prints rich with the iconography of his punk-rock tribe. Wengertsman's steadfast perspective on the world is as black-and-white as the palette of his poster-sized prints.

Wengertsman's take on being hard-working but broke, accepted yet afflicted, and boozy flood the page. No space is left untouched. Try not to get lost in the constant patterns and minute details of his story. The fine linework and repetitive icons bring an assuredness to his raw emotions, worn like a sewn-on patch on his sleeve. Joy may not be apparent in his message, but the act of creating these pieces clearly brings peace. Relying on a catalog heavy with skulls, noserings, dogs, cheap beer, and bikes, he's not afraid to broach the heavier subjects of gender and marriage equality, family, religion, and the disparity between the haves and have-nots. PUNKISM affirms that Wengertsman's been shaping his manifesto, and finetuning his iconography, for some time.

Perhaps fueling his palpable aggression, the artist has a posse of punk rock brothers and sisters, who dress and ride and rock-out alike. Together with his undeclared self-portraiture, they are undoubtedly the subjects of these prints. The opening at EBK Picture Framing was brimming with a tattooed crew, outfitted with ripped tights and studded denim. In a world of No-Smoking on shopping mall grounds, this crowd still steps outside the gallery to smoke a butt, and comiserate. They have each other. They don't need you.

The artist may be broke, but he's young and free. By working a job that provides the space to execute his work and the flexibility to tour with his band, he may not be able to buy much more than a six-pack of Pabst, but at the end of the day, he's free to ride his bike, carouse with his punk rock family, and create a solid, politically-charged show of art.



I can't help but feel jealous of artists who do. Up until a few years ago I'd draw and doodle and make art, and post pieces to this blog. It was fun and I enjoyed sharing. But I don't do that stuff anymore. It's a nagging source of frustration. I wonder, Can I still draw? What should I draw? I feel paralyzed in that department, and hope that the time, inspiration, and space to create returns, even if in small doses. I want Edie to know that I'm an artist, and to share that with her.