THIRD FRIDAY: 12.20.19
For the most immersive experience we recommend using a PC for the duration of your Third Friday viewing.
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Thanks for visiting Rogue Gallery! Enjoy your stay!
A Decade Gone
A serenade amidst the earth and sky
Out from which I toil and turn
That milk white orb shining into my eye
Foot unto foot, I walk forward
On this nighttime path to ponder and yearn
All the time in the world for me to wonder why
A sonnet spoken by light unto ground
Walking an after dark saunter
Ever watched by the great black hound
But bathed in pale light still
Safe to veer and vaunter
And into my mind I will share and expound;
These flowers have flourished
From bleeding into breathing
By the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon
These thoughts have been nourished
Far beyond the point of feeding and teething
Pushed upward by a song coming into tune
In this umbratic garden
They weep and cry
Flowers pink as flesh
Though in shadow thin and white
A melancholic creche
Shying away and obscured from sight
And from out my heart comes a prayer
Earnest and heavy and filling the air
Thankful for the sorrow and pain
For without it I have no knowledge
No reason to grow
Nothing to explain
And on this path I will always walk
Where thinking becomes like a palindrome
I purge my heart and begin to forgive
Reading from the soul's unwritten tome
Foot unto foot, I walk forward
On this moonlit path where I will always live
For no matter how far I stray, my destination will forever be home
- Sierra Matz
Lyle Toledo Yazzie
Steven Lee Matz
If there was one thing Jerv learned, it was that no matter what, pack plenty of Cafinite and booze. Working on old robots can tire a guy out. Whether it was from all the shocks or the swearing, he always needed a drink afterwards.
Edmond would have a drink every now and then, but not when he's working. One of them needed to be crystal clear in the head if they were gonna get a story going.
They pulled up fifteen yards away from the patrol vehicle they were tailing, getting the bot ready for a little snooping.
Edmond put out his CigRet and pulled out his D.R.O.I.D.(Data Recorder Online Information Device). He clicked it on and looked over to the neon light that marked the club's territory. Despite the crappy weather, he could still see the sign clearly. It was too bad the video feed on his D.R.O.I.D couldn't focus any better even if he had the best recording software in the star.
Jerv activated the bot and hooked up a wireless control board to the harmonius machine. Each beep and whir was like drums and trumpets to the two journalists. Both men smiled and turned their attention to the possible story at hand.
A click on one of the keys and the bot was in motion. Edmond opened the side door to let the rolling crap box out. He never did like machines. Not in his youth, not in his middle aged career, not when he's a broken down asshole close to his nineties.
Edmond flipped on the video feed from the bot's lens, the picture was better than what he could get with the equipment they had, but it still wasn't perfect. Infrequently the picture would get scratchy and fuzzy, making it just that little bit unreliable for the both of them. All he could hope for was a clear image of something hot enough to get a story or a development.
Jerv was handling the control board as carefully and as best as he could, but he was fumbling just a little with the controls. Drinking might help him fix up a run down junk box of any variety, but actually handling anything becomes a bigger pain in the ass than necessary.
Just as Jerv's miracle junker was trying to maneuver up a curb, it bumped into someone walking by. Jerv tensed up, thinking it was one of the detectives in the building. Footsteps could be heard and a shadowy figure could be seen outside where they were hiding. Whoever it was, that person walked right by them and kept on walking.
Jerv exhaled, not realizing that he was holding his breath. Edmond played it calm, never letting his cool get away from him.
They continued to observe as the spy bot rolled into position for it's cameras and microphones to pick up anything happening in the club right now.
Only one thing was on each of their minds, a lead on what could possibly be the biggest story they have ever uncovered in their careers. Fingers crossed.
- Sam Matz
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A great specter is looming over the art world: the specter of Inter|Sekt. For far too long we have watched the artists of our generation turned into a disposable commodity, bought and sold by the galleries, stifled in their expression by the tastes of the art consultants who purchase pieces on behalf of financially minded clients who want a "solid investment".
They have been amalgamated into schools, said schools are a device of gallerists and art historians to divide and conquer the creatives and free thinkers.
For we live in a nation which thinks itself to be free yet is not, they expect the same of their artists.
Our culture has been raped and plundered by the upper echelon, picked apart and sold by the same greed mongers who claim to be it's patrons. The tool which has most effectively stunted the growth of modern American art in particular is the clever indoctrination of this idea of schools to not only the art student but anyone whom even reads a brief survey of the history of art sees that it is broken up into these categorized schools; the philosophies of these various sects creates conflict, division, and ultimately destruction of the morale and submission to the established order. Thus rendering the creative spirit confused and useless.
This helps curb the rebellious spirit of the average citizen outside of the art world in other spheres of society.
Art history is a lie and galleries are dens of thieves!
Inter|Sekt is not destroying the schools or the galleries, we are simply showing you they were never real, at least not in a world outside of that constructed by academics to sell text books to art students.
The reign of the gallerists and art consultants is over when you want it to be.
From the ashes of the indoctrinated schools of every form of art shall arise The New World Creative.
-Steven Lee Matz-
The inter|sekt manifesto