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Dear readers! To quote the master Big Daddy Kane: "I work…I work…baby!" "A champ like Tyson, a Captain like Kirk, no Employee of the Month, cause yo, I do work The K-A-N-E is on the J-O-B An expert, cause I get it D-ON-E So lights, camera, action—all hail the one! That gets the job done" This is the "WORK" issue. From workman to CEO, from blue collar to white, from the garbage man to the MAN, we will cover all aspects of your working life. We honor the heroic gure of the working class and mock that of the 1 percent. This is the ‘occupy your job’ issue, so take a moment to forget the politics and just get the job done. Spread the knowledge. Pass on this fanzine, let people know. You unknowingly picked up a copy of this fanzine. Maybe at a coffee shop, record store, tattoo parlor. Maybe you met one of the Antagonists at an art event or found it on the back of a toilet. We hope you are hooked. But where can you get your next x?
We make digital copies of each issue. Here is a list of places you can nd new issues: http://antagovision.com/psycho -moto-zine-archive facebook.com search for our fan page theantagonistblog.blogspot.co m Subscribe to our blog.
Ethan Minsker Marissa Bea &Kristin Brzoznowski Eric Wallin Kirsten Flaherty
& ART DIRECTOR
STATEMENT OF PURPOSE
THE ANTAGONIST MOVEMENT encourages new works of art and challenges the art world to do something different. We are not based on any one style or form of art, but believe that the piece should provoke. To this end, the Movement hosts the following events. PSYCHO.MOTO ZINE - is a branch of the Antagonist Art
Movement’s press and has been in existence since 1988 under the original title East Coast Exchange. It acts as a venue for our writers, artists and editors. In an attempt to create new forms of art and writing, we highlight the obscure and unknown artists, draw focus to subjects passed over by the mainstream media. This is a not-for-pro t publication. Artists/writers donate their time to create this. The content is a mixture of ction and non ction. We also cover news of the art world, from street to gallery. Back issues can be found at “Psycho Moto Zine archives” at Antagovision.com To learn more about the Antagonist Movement, look us up on Wikipedia. So, if you enjoy what you have read, please take a moment and look up our lms and books. There are digital copies of each for $1.99 on Amazon. We believe the price shouldn’t hinder you, so we do our best to have a cheap alternative to the hard copies. We are passionate about each project, mixing love and attention to detail to create a unique work of art. Our goal is to make something the large entertainment companies fail to do, which is create inspired works that cater to like-minded individuals. All the money we generate goes back to creating new art projects and supports a large community of struggling artists. Questions? Comments? Stories? Suggestions? Contact us at Antagovision.com, email us at firstname.lastname@example.org or follow/message us at
facebook.com/pages/PsychoMoto-Zine CURRENT PROJECTS - We are currently organizing a free school of art in Ecuador under the NonPro t Citizens for the Arts. The Antagonist - A novel about all of our projects for the last ten years and more. There is a back-story to everything we do, including this fanzine. Want to know how we operate? This is the book for you. Release date - 2014? FARENHEIT - Open mic the rst Sunday of every month, features new writers. Sign-up starts at 8pm and the readings start at 9pm at Black & White 86 East 10th Street between 3rd and 4th Ave. Five minutes to tell your best story. Comics and abstract comedy welcome. Must be 21 years of age. PUBLIC ACCESS SHOW - MNN channel 67, Saturday nights at 11 p.m. “Antagovision.” This 30-minute show covers events, artists’ studio tours and more. With over 70 episodes, you can see what we have been up to for the past ten years. To nd out about lm screenings and art shows visit us at Antagovision.com
by Dahlia Schweitzer
I used to have a corporate job. I wore blazers and button-down shirts and showed up for work before 9 a.m. and made PowerPoint presentations to clients. I loved the work itself, but I hated the packaging. I hated the
meetings just for meetings’ sake, the showing up early and staying later which somehow meant that you were working harder than everyone else, even if it could just as easily mean that you were less ef cient with your time. I suffered through it because I thought that’s what it meant to be a grown up; that this was what grown ups did.
full-time. Art wouldn’t be my hobby, art would be my work. So that’s what I did.
But as painful as it was to sit
still for eight hours a day, it was even worse to spend those days staring at a computer monitor. I have never been good at sitting still, and my lunch breaks were never long enough. I would run outside every chance I got, just to get a little air and sun and movement.
my time. When I wasn’t on tour, I spent my days doing the administrative work: emailing, networking, booking gigs. Nighttime was creative time, when I actually did the writing or the music-making or the photography that brought me to Berlin in the rst place. But I did not mind the compartmentalizing, because all those 24 hours belonged to me.
I still had to compartmentalize
All of this is why,
when I was 26, it felt right to leave it behind and move to Berlin. The corporate job would always be there—I’d always have the suits—but at one point in my life, I needed to be an artist. Not an artist during nights and weekends, whenever I could scrape together a couple minutes, but an artist
Artist: Patricio Ponce
The only problem with this kind
of work, where your work is your passion and your passion is your work, is that it does take place 24 hours a day. You end up being reliant on your passion to pay the rent, which ends up tarnishing your love, turning it into a whore you have to pimp for money.
tion I did when I had the corporate life. I no longer feel like I am pretending to be a grown up—because isn’t balance what growing up is about?
El valor del o cio
by José Egas
NOTE: Since our upcoming project is going to be a creative collaboration between cultures, that is exactly what our zines will also be.
Which is why I decided, after three years, that I wanted a different kind of work. I also wanted a job that did not have me traveling every weekend. The ideal situation for me would be a job that would allow me to integrate my interests, that would not force me to sit still for eight hours a day, that would give me a lot of freedom to express and explore my own ideas, while still giving me enough of a structure that it was not exclusively a matter of making money from art. I became a teacher. My work is still making people think, even if it is through a more formal process. It is turning them on to new ideas and new ways of seeing the world. It is still a juggling act, because there is never enough time to do my own work, but there is more integration between my own passions and my day job, and I never feel the same kind of binary opposi
Había caído en cuenta que si
aprendía a mentir con distinción sería un buen cuentista y fue por eso que se empeñó en aprender el o cio con dedicadas mañas, con mucho arte y solemne magia. La dedicación y el esfuerzo estaban explícitamente incluidos en la receta; entendió que si las cosas se hacían se debía hacer bien.
Esa cuestión del cuento nal-
mente fue difícil. Los profesores de literatura, el agobio y la soledad tatuaron dolorosamente su espíritu aún lisiado por la parálisis de la bondad y la ingenuidad. Su ilusión de escritor fue tristemente estigmatizada y condenada, postergando hasta la eternidad su esperada investidura.
Sin embargo, un extraño
elemento misericordioso le picaba ardientemente su conciencia: la justicia. Se dio
cuenta que la sed de justicia estaba increíblemente intacta en su mente. Robin Hood, pensó ridículamente. Robin Hood debía ser destripado con banalidad y sin misericordia, pensó ya sin ridiculez.Todo había sido colonial, volvió a pensar nalmente convencido. Robin Hood es un zoquete dijo nalmente y se aventuró contra la apestosa ética. Entonces su resolución era una realidad: de nitivamente lo robado no se lo daría a los pobres, ¿para qué?, pensó, él también era pobre, pensó nuevamente, esta vez con astucia.
terciopelo comprendió que no sólo su o cio áspero, severo y tan digno, como el de los obreros de la Siberia estalinista, era estafar con el cuento del verbo, sino que la vida entera era una estafa.
Phantom Fart Elevator
by Ethan Minsker
Arriving at work early on a
Entonces decidió que el cuento
no se debía contar sino vivir y forzó una conciencia, después convenció a otra, volvió a intimidar a otra, a dos persuadió y a cien ilusionó. Finalmente, sentado en un apacible sillón de
Monday morning, I stepped into an elevator, doors closing quickly behind me. The warm moist air engulfed me, moving deep into the recesses of my nasal cavities; a rancid stink of rotten food and intestinal acids so shocking to my system that I was forced to stop breathing.
If the fumes had a color it would have been a pea green
Artist: Alexis Duque
someone else gets on the elevator before I can get off?”
They wouldn't say
anything to me directly, of course, but from that point on I would be known as the "fart guy." Who knows how that might come back to hurt me? I could picture it, years later I am up for that VP of Programming job and the woman making the decision will meet me and realize, ‘He was the one in the farty elevator.’
Artist: Rul Ayala
I wouldn't get the promotion. Who would do this evil deed? From the smell, my rst thought was a truck driver, but then a second suspect came to mind. What if it was a small, attractive girl? I was sure that’s who it was. The type that might call an elevator to her oor, making sure no one was around who might witness the crime, aim her behind at the open doors, let
with mustard yellowing at the edges. If this stink stains my clothes, I will have to double bag them and throw them out. Work for me is on the 24th oor. Looking up, the red digital numbers seemed to slow down…eyes watering.
However, I had a more pressing
concern than passing out from holding my breath: “What if
it y, then send the nowweaponized box on its mission.
The lobby became a game of
Russian Roulette, each elevator like the spinning cylinders with a bullet ready to go off. For her (the farter) it would be an easy way to create distance from her evidence. For me it would be
punishment for unknown crimes against the female form. From then on, my new mantra before getting on any elevator is: "Sniff it before you commit to it."
have committed against humanity, then shame on you.
If this story describes an act you
Stickin’ it to the Man
by Kristy McCarthy
Last summer, my super talented,
funny and sweet 22-year-old, blossoming artist of a cousin was hit by a car and killed. He was riding his bike home after painting at his friend’s house all night, future so bright he has to wear shades, and BAM. Gone. Like a bird slamming into a window just after it’s taken off.
was up to us to get his artwork out there, so I started wheat pasting and stenciling some of his drawings around his favorite neighborhoods in New York City. A few weeks later, I moved to Spain to teach English and I continued the tagging campaign there. Slangin’ that grammar by day, bombin’ by night. One night, I was out putting up a few
My family and I decided that it
stencils of a badass chick that Easton had drawn, when the police pulled up and caught me, literally, red handed. I thought for sure that I was cooked. I had a full backpack loaded with graf ti supplies, a dripping wet stencil that they caught me trying to stuff into a garbage can, and my hands were covered in spray paint. If charged, I was potentially looking at a night in jail, a €750 ne, and never being allowed to return to Spain. Not looking good. I was just about to give them the old “Oh hi, of cer, I was just out here working on my project for school J” spiel, but to my surprise they just brushed me aside and started grilling my (male) friend, who had just happened to be there, but had nothing to do with what I was doing.
After about 30 minutes of trying to get my friend to confess, they nally had to accept that it was, in fact, me who was spray painting, and not him. They seemed kind of annoyed and just kind of scratched their heads disappointedly and told us we could go home. I guess when a girl does it, it's cute. When a boy does it, it's vandalism. Sexist as hell? Yes. Did it work to my advantage? Oh, hell yes. I went straight home and thanked my lucky stars for having a vagina.
I thought that that was the end of it, but the next day I opened the paper and, WTF, right there on the front page was a picture of Easton’s bad girls and a headline that read: “Female Graf ti Artist Caught
Red Handed in Realejo!” I couldn’t believe it! This is front-page news? Really? And even more surprising was the fact that the article was mainly concerned with me being a woman. The headline might as well have read: “Holy Shit! Girls Can Do Things That Boys Can Do!” I didn’t know whether to be proud, ashamed, angry or just worried. On the one hand, I did get my cousin’s artwork on the front page of the paper, and maybe even contributed to the Spanish feminist movement, but on the other hand, all of the publicity could put pressure on the police to go ahead and
punish me after all. Luckily though, it all blew over in a couple of days and I never did receive a knock on the door from la po po.
They started to paint over my
pieces the following week, but they either ran out of paint halfway through or the guy they hired to do it had ADD, because they only painted over two and a half of my painted ladies. Kind of a dick move if you ask me. If you’re going to cover it up, then cover it up, don’t stop for siesta halfway through and never nish the job! Never one to not get the last word, I went back to the wall a month later and put up one nal stencil: a hot chick in a amenco dress, writing, “Finish what you start.” And guess what? It made the paper.
Three One-Day Jobs I've Never Put on a Résumé and What I Learned From Them
By Jerry White Jr. I'm facing the end of grad school, which means I'm about to start a new era of job hunting. No more homework, just work-work. Most of the jobs I've had won't make it onto my new résumé. They're either in unrelated fields or occurred too long ago. Of course, some jobs never made it onto any of my résumés; weird larky gigs, unhappy and unfulfilling detours. But that doesn't mean they weren't valuable experiences — if nothing else, they taught me what kind of work I don’t want to do. The following three jobs were short and not-so-sweet, but nevertheless taught me something... THE PLACE: Construction Site AGE: 25 THE JOB: Move pieces of wood from one spot to another spot. Also, put nails into pieces of wood in the floor.
Artist: Kirsten Flaherty
My brother got me this job, making $10/hr on his site. I felt very out of place. Got through the day thinking of it as a sociological experiment, taking notes and quotes, learning new vocabulary. I was reminded of 7th-grade wood shop, which I also didn't like at all. LESSON LEARNED: Nepotism can get you a job, but it can’t make you like it or be good at it. THE PLACE: Speedy Printing AGE: 20 THE JOB: Printing, copying, binding, etc. I'd worked at Kinko's for a year before I quit. I'd learned some marketable skills, but seemingly only applicable in the printing/copying sphere. So I got this job at an independently owned little print shop. Their equipment was older and crappier than Kinko's. The place was cramped, dirty, depressing. I almost quit at lunch, but my friends convinced me to complete the day. LESSON LEARNED: Family-owned isn't automatically better than corporateowned and going backwards is really demoralizing. THE PLACE: Convenience Store AGE: 14 THE JOB: Take 12 oz cans and put them into plastic rings to make six-packs. Chateau de Vin — kinda sorta
Artist: Ulices Rosales Rodriguez
my first job. Not a W2 job, but the first time someone outside of my family paid me to do a task. It was very boring and made my wrist sore. I think I got paid ten cents per six-pack. After I finished, I bought some food and snacks from the store with the money I'd made, leaving me only a few cents take-home. LESSON LEARNED: Earning your meal doesn't make it taste any better. All of these lessons have informed job decisions when I’ve had the luxury to choose — and choice is definitely a luxury. Over the next few years I’ll likely work a lot more one-day jobs: quick acting or voice-over gigs, 12-hour commercial or short-film shoots. I hope I’ll continue to learn from these experiences, but I’ve really got my fingers crossed that I’ll actually enjoy the work.
THIS ISSUE’S ARTIST CONTACTs:
Kirsten Flaherty kirsten aherty.com Pancho Viñachi http://www.youtube.com/ user/ViPancho Alexis Duque http://www.alexisduque.net Ulises Rosales facebook.com/densoh.rosalesrodriguez Rul Ayala raulayalablog.blogspot.com Patricio Ponce http://www.centroecuatorianodeartecontem poraneo.org/patricio-ponce
Shop at the Antagonist shop! Get a shirt, matter of fact, get all the Antagonist shirts and know that the little money we make will support new issues of this fanzine. We have over 30 designs made especially for the Antagonist Movement by selected up-and-coming artists. You won't find these shirts anywhere else. Be the only kid on your block with one!
Do you like punk rock, Washington, D.C. and the ‘80s? Well we have a book for you! Rich Boy Cries For Momma. A rst-hand account of Washington, D.C.’s punk rock scene in the ‘80s and ‘90s as told by a dyslexic punk. Available anywhere e-books and paperbacks are sold. Also available at St. Marks Book Shop on 9th St & 3rd Ave. and Generation Records at 210 Thompson St. between w. 3rd and Bleecker St. Money goes to publishing new books. The Dolls Of Lisbon, a movie about struggling artists making work on the other side of the world. A DIY eyeball-busting bonanza. Find it on Amazon, iTunes and on DVD. Also available at St. Marks Book Shop on 9th St & 3rd Ave. Money goes to making new overseas art projects.
Barstool Prophets, a book about the dirty secrets every bartender in the Lower East Side knows. Before you date a bartender, read this book. Available anywhere e-books and paperbacks are sold. Also available at St. Marks Book Shop on 9th St & 3rd Ave. Money goes to publishing new books. This is Berlin, Not New York, DVD and Amazon instant download. See what trouble the Antagonists can get into when you make art in abandoned buildings in Berlin. antagovision.com
showcase varying visions through techniques in etching, monoprint, silkscreen and other printmaking processes, with the overall intention of celebrating the venerable art of the print.
ARTIST OF THE ISSUE:
Eric Kirsten Wallin Flaherty
“No omnium est tenebras? K irsten Flaherty's most recent Omnium est vacuum replenworks showcase themes that dum?” I recognized the Latin directly relate to society's vernacular as of the dying priest’s displacement an individual, as lips the words wellformed as culture's exile against of nature. the palm of my hand covering In her works, the artist depicts his mouth. I pulled away from the decline of our natural the padre’s trickling “Yes surroundings as well neck, as the father, all is darkness. All is, personal con icts of an truly, void.” Padre Varela individual in contemporary exhaled his last breath with a culture. Through her prints, sputtering whoosh. I tongued Flaherty hopes to further the last the fewfragility drops of his expose of life and precious blood. I have heard the fallacies in human nature similar that come to haunt us.
Grammarian, NYC Age: 28
Works the bowels
Artist & Cinematographer, NYC Age: 30
As a graduate from the School
of Visual Arts, she resides in New York while working as an artist and printmaker. She is also on the board of directors for the New York Society of Etchers and has been dedicated to presenting exhibitions that
Below 93 on FM dial
The Crying Bowery Diner Game Burger
Artist: Pancho Vinachi
Some of our issues have complex themes. Not everyone can write about zombies, or death, or whatever. BUT, everyone (EVERYONE) has a story about family. Perhaps it’s hilarious, perhaps it’s terribly sad. But it’s there, and the story wants to be told. Soooo, our next issues theme is… FAMILY! Write up that ridiculous conversation you had with your deaf Uncle Fred, or draw a picture of those marshmallow forts your sister used to build (?!?) and send them to us!
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