what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

Thai Bui photos here with the artist's permission

22 Heather shared these photos with me in an email. She knows I like arrows. When I saw the thumbnail images, I thought they were cool.

Arrows are cool. I will flip through catalogs of traffic signs and scroll through sites that sell arrow signs. I find arrow signs all around on the ground and offer them a new home. The walls of my batcave are covered with arrows.  There are arrows tattooed on my arms and legs so I don't lose them. There are arrows silkscreened on my hoodies so I know which way to go. There are arrows all around. So many in fact, they tend to blend in and become the scenery. 

When I started looking at the full size images of these, I realized they're more than cool, they’re really really really cool. Actual arrows on asphalt enhanced by Thai Bui the artist with chalk, adding drop shadows and highlights. 

good stuff

one way

or another

orange you glad I didn't say "I thought you said you'd never forget" 

there's a story unfolding here

meanwhile have another beer...

talk amongst yourselves

talking points:

reciprocity

repetition

retrospect

r e s p e c t

still life with glass fruit

postcard

mailbox

old school

hand built

artwork

banana

banana who?

two-two

knock knock 

let's roll

"Spirit House" at the Henry

Duncan Cycles photo from the MADE show in Rip City

AHTBM photo

it’s an iterative process

like watching paint dry

two coats of primer

two coats of paint

iterations

regurgitations

lamentations

ululations

lather 

rinse

repeat

repeat 

repeat

repeat

keep doing different things

keep expecting the same results

keep doing different things

keep expecting different results

keep doing the same things

keep expecting different results

keep doing the same things

keep expecting the same results

open to outcome       but

not attached to outcome

yeah right

you wish

as if

it’s all Hallmark Card

jibber jabber

East Bound in the bike lane one day. A bike lane I’ve ridden countless times before. So many times I subliminally know when the bumps are bumping, the cracks are cracking, I know what’s down there, because I’ve been there, done that. I post up out of the saddle and absorb the bumps right in time as they’re bumping. All muscle memory. No thought bandwidth used. No static at all. I’m pretty proud of my lizard brain. But just as I’m patting myself on the back the front wheel hits a chunk of wood, hits it hard, a chunk that’s not supposed to be there. I...

This scrap of cardboard is the jumbo postcard of the day. Soon to be hand-delivered via electric ass bathtub to the Medicinal Herb Garden Guy via the Life Sciences Greenhouse. 

The gold cow is on the fence, looking one way, then the other. She cannot decide which side has the greener grass. All the while she’s hearing her grandma’s voice in her head, repeatedly repeating reminders to be careful what you wish for...

infinitely 

variable

within

limits

as 

if

what

ever

label 

maker

marketing

horseshit

opportune

i s t i c

sticky

fingered

call 

it

what 

you 

will

more

than

you

can

chew

bite

me

point

view

change 

scenery

greener

grass

my

ass

got my hands on a rather large number of planning committee blue ribbons with built-in adhesive strips to adhere to your name tag at the convention or meeting or large event that required a planning committee to plan. So as I walk around and mingle and schmooze you’ll clearly see my name MATT PINTER and that I’m obviously a proud member of the planning committee. 

In this package there are several hundred perhaps a thousand of these blue ribbons. Why would I buy it? You might ask. Well I bought it because it was there. Because it was 50 cents. Because I could take them out of context and put them back in some how some where some time. 

These ribbons have been sitting here for a few weeks, waiting for me to deploy them in a new and interesting way. But a little while back I gave about 25% of them to 22 Heather and said “what would you do with a bunch of planning committee blue ribbons?”

Several days later Heather presented me with a little cabin in the woods down by the river made with cardboard and a healthy heaping helping of...

What’s the g for?

it’s just a g

What’s it mean?

it’s a lower case g

And there’s more than one?

yep

Why is that one backwards?

so when I’m brushing my teeth it reads correctly in the mirror

What?

the font is important

You’re weird

it’s a mirror image lower case g and it's Burberry

weirdo...      ...and what's with all the arrows bro?

Tuesday I got this matted & framed photo at UW Surplus. Not for the photo, for the frame. However,  the photo has since haunted me and I’m not sure I want to mess with its mojo. I may just keep it intact as a true 1987 artifact. I can always find another thriftstore frame for the project I’m envisioning. 

The more I read about this quintet, the more respect I have for the frame.

Philip A. Trautman was a distinguished professor in the UW Law school for 50 years. He passed away in 2019. 

Mark E. Abhold fell off the internet, perhaps in an Applied Physics military secret nuclear engineering way. Let me know what you know about him. 

Ann L. Darling is in the UW Communications Hall of Fame. She went on to teach at the University of Utah for years.

Paul Pascal was a distinguished Classics professor at UW for 38 years. He passed away in 2015. 

Loveday Conquest is currently Professor Emeritus in School of Aquatic and Fishery Science. She taught at UW from 1978 - 2014. Even though she retired before my time, her name vaults her into the top...

A few days ago one of my coworkers discovered a dusty old large box of paperclips in a storage cabinet at the mother ship. It was placed there years ago by a former government worker. 

Yesterday I dug my hand into the box for no real reason. Just to hold a heaping helping of old paper clips. Just because I could. This of course, inspired me to make a chain of clips. Which in turn brought to mind a little ditty I wrote 17 years ago when I was a shit-talking legal messenger, making shit-talk observations of various government workers, specifically King County Superior Court clerks. 

Here and now, seventeen years later, I’m a shit-talking government worker observing other government workers. As I taped a chain of paperclips to a pen I smiled the smile of a completed round trip. Out & back. Full circle. Always on time. Never working late. Getting the job done.  See my pen-paperclip display below.