contents sept 2010.
Michelle Wojtasnek - 9
Stephanie Jones - 11
on the front cover: Untitled
By: Steve(ToyRobot)smith Ink and watercolor on paper
on the inside front cover: Procreatrix
By: Scott Cook & Karolina Romanowska Watercolor and colored pencil on paper
on the inside back cover: Egrets Amid Mountains and Streams III
By: Rachel Peeters Oil on canvas
Untitled - Steve(ToyRobot)smith
cover
Procreatix- Scott Cook & Karolina Romanowska
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How I Really Feel About the 2010 Affordable Care Act - Beth Ferstl
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blue spoo - Douglas Somers
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Tattoo Girl - Steve(ToyRobot)smith
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The Age of Innocence - samuelbeaton
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Human Trash - Scott Cook
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Egrets Amid Mountains and Streams V - 7 Rachel Peeters Can - Steve(ToyRobot)smith
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If a Mountain Gorilla Could Speak for Itself - Robin Lee
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Deal - Douglas Somers
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Rebecca Kleefisch from “If You Lived Here” - Chris Talbot-Heindl
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Madre Raiz/Mother Roots (Los Hermanos Unidos) - Jenny Lila
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Bruxism II - Michelle Wojtasnek
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A Reflection on Art - Jan Haskell
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The Second Revelation - Jan Haskell
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Tips to Pass the Time During the Apocalypse - samuelbeaton
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Drip torch Love - Samantha RussellBlumenstein
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perilous vortex of disintegrating reality - 10 Scott Cook & string Consumption and Waste/Consume= Waste I - Stephanie Jones
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Consumption and Waste/Consume= Waste II - Stephanie Jones
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fitting - Chris Talbot-Heindl
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Smirk - Stephanie Jones
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Donors
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Index
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Egrets Amid Mountains and Streams III - 13 Rachel Peeters
about b’k: bitchin’kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. it exists for the purpose of open creativity. if you have something you want to share, please email it to chris@talbot-heindl.com.
submission: if you have something you want to share, please email it to chris@talbot-heindl.com.
donation: we love our donors. If you would like to become a donor, email chris@talbotheindl.com and make your pledge.
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beth ferstl. How I Really Feel About the 2010 Affordable Care Act By: Beth Ferstl
I’m feeling desperate these days. I don’t know how else to describe it. The new House of Representatives has passed legislation to repeal the Affordable Health Care Act of 2010. Repeal it. Maybe I’m being naïve; I’m not claiming anything other than my myopic view of my life, of my world. I’d love to have all of the answers; I know that this legislation is far from perfect. Personally I don’t think it goes far enough to encourage preventative care, but don’t really know how we can mandate that everyone gets a physical every year from a primary care doctor and not the ER doc that’s treating whatever their current emergency is. I think that this legislation enables the 60 million uninsured who get their primary treatment from the ER to get affordable health insurance that includes preventative care is a good first step, but it’s not changing their behavior. So many people eat fast food because it’s cheap, and then are surprised when it doesn’t bring any nutritive value to their bodies. So many problems with our health care system. I don’t like that this legislation forces more people into a system that I feel is inherently flawed, and I do think that single-payer is the most efficient way to control costs, but know that it won’t happen overnight. In my heart I believe that the 2010 Affordable Care Act is an important first step in rewriting our health care story. I just watched the movie Milk and was fascinated by one part in particular. In Harvey Milk’s battle for equal protection for gays and lesbians he focused on the fact that if people knew a person who was gay, they were more likely to be sympathetic to the cause. If they had a face to put with the stigma, the stigma went away. My goal is to put a face to the health care debate, to decrease the stigma associated with pre-existing conditions, to share our reality with our elected officials so they can in turn share it with their colleagues who are fighting to take this away from us. I’m very fortunate to have health insurance through my employer. I’m doubly fortunate that my employer pays for a percentage of our family’s premium. After all is said and done, we spend nearly a third of my net income on premiums and deductibles. Our insurer does not cover Henry’s PT or OT, and won’t cover his Speech Therapy should we get surgery to get his tongue snipped next week. (He’s tongue –tied). Those are currently all covered through our county’s birth-three program, and our income level qualifies us to not have to pay for those services. Henry has thrived under these skilled therapists’care and he unequivocally would not be where he is without them. In addition to his therapy, Henry also has orthotics that he wears on his feet and a splint on his hand to help him keep his hand open. The orthotic on his right foot has a price tag of $1,046.00, his left foot orthotic, $563.20. The 4 inch piece of neoprene that serves as a splint for his right hand: $387.00.
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In 2010 alone Henry received nearly $9,000 in Physical and Occupational Therapy. Another $4,000 in services from his pediatric neurologist and Waisman Center’s CP clinic team. Then the normal pediatrician visits that every kid gets. I know that these numbers speak to the volume of the problem. The health care industry is inherently flawed, as the cost of all of the uninsured visiting the ER for all of their problems are written in to every service, every OT visit, every specialty clinic. Providing insurance to all reduces the costs for everyone. I’m in support of this legislation for several reasons. First it would financially devastating to pay for Henry’s basic needs out of pocket, and with the 2010 Affordable Care Act our insurance can no longer decide to drop him from coverage because of his pre-existing condition. Second, our costs are higher because there are so many uninsured who are unable to pay for the services they receive, and because we spend more than the average family on health care it impacts us more. Third, I don’t know what Henry’s fate will be, but do know that he will always have more health care needs than the “average” kid. I’m thrilled that I will be able to care for him longer, now until he’s 26, under my health insurance coverage. I do hope that some day we have single payer, Medicare for all, and this is a nonconversation. I don’t understand why the new Republican house is so hell bent on taking Henry’s insurance away. What do they have against kids with CP? Maybe it’s because he’s non-verbal and can’t make a stink the way his mom can? Is it the dimples? Really? He’s the face I go to when I think of what the 2010 Affordable Care Act means to me. If you don’t know anyone whom this legislation directly impacts, think of Henry. Let him be your face.
douglas somers, steve(toyrobot)smith.
Douglas Somers blue spoo Print on paper
Steve(ToyRobot)smith Tattoo Girl Ink and watercolor on paper
bitchin’ kitsch
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samuelbeaton, scott cook. The Age of Innocence
breaks, I guess. That cop was a douche bag. At least you made it home before 1 a.m.
Remember when it was cool to go to the bars all night long, sing along with the loud, over played tunes such as “Crazy Bitch”, and go home about $80 poorer? Neither do I. However, I’d like to talk about some of the times that were cool. Or ones that should have been.
The Age Of 24 All your friends have now found girlfriends, so you have to select a new crew to go out with. So many options. The girls that talk about ex-boyfriends all night, the guys who know WAY too much about sports, or the creepy kid that you’re not totally sure is a murderer. I went with myself. I figured I’d find new people and make a go of it. Well, this didn’t happen and I basically became a fatty with nothing to offer other than buying you a drink. Oh, and my stunning good looks.
By: samuelbeaton www.samuelbeaton.com
The Age Of 21 The best thing in the world was to not have a job that started early in the morning. Why? You could sleep off the night before. And you know that you were with me on this. Unless your name is Lisa and you live in Kansas. Anyway, you’d go out with your close, selected group of friends. I had an entourage. The phone would ring at about 6 p.m. with the same question: “Dude, do you have pants on?” The answer was usually a resounding “no”, but sometimes I did have pants on…..my drinking pants. We’d meet at our local hangout called 29 steps. It took me about a year to realize that they named it that because you had to climb 29 steps in order to reach the bar. Give me a break, we pre-gamed it. You would all sit in your comfort zone, which happened to be a disgusting couch from 1978 with stains from spilled hopes, dreams, and bacardi. One friend would always decide that it was time to “make his move” on the bartender. What he didn’t know was that the girl was a self-hating, anti-man, alcoholic that liked to slap people in the face. He found out quick enough. By the time of 2:30 rolled up on you, it was time to either find and after bar or go home. I’m not sure which we usually picked, but I know I somehow found myself waking up on the floor of a bathroom in either mine or someone else’s apartment. With your head ringing, along with the phone, you decide that breakfast should start with a whiskey sour. The day begins again.
The Age Of 25 I’d like to say I became serious at this point, and I kind of did. I had a fairly good job, a prospect for the future, and my drinking had cut down massively. Things were looking great until I discovered that EVERY bar in town had Journey on the juke box. I know it sounds like a terrible excuse, but when you really want something, you’ll take the easiest excuse to go out and get it. Journey is my drink of choice. The Age Of 26 By this point, you’re just boring, alone, and have lost most of your friends to the bottle, or to girlfriends. That’s why you decide to meet a friend at a bar, but he never shows up. You hit it off with a lady, and the next thing you know, you actually have a girlfriend too. Awesome. Things are looking up once again. The Age Of 27 All your good friends are married, divorced, or dead. You and
The Age Of 22 You still haven’t really gotten the partying out of your system. You still hang out with mostly the same people, but with a few new ones that you’ve met from going out. At this point, you are most likely in debt, over weight, and have a lot of frozen chicken pot pies in your freezer. One thing that did change is that you no longer go out so early. You wait until 9:00 now because you’ve become smart and found the deals. Also, the question asked on the phone call is now “Dude, do you have any clothes on?” The common answer was “Boxers count as clothes, right?”. Yes, they do. So, you go out, to whatever bar you find the best price, stay out until bar close, go to Taco Bell, and try to remember why you hang out with your friends to this day. The Age Of 23 Time to take a break and get a real job. This is great for about 4 months until the party going entourage decides to come back together for “just one night out”. About a week later, you’re at the top of a parking ramp with a bottle of beer, some fireworks, and a cop chasing you down. I’m not sure how we escaped this one, but I’m sure it’s on some video footage somewhere. So much for 6
Scott Cook Human Trash Oil on canvas
samuelbeaton (con’t), rachel peeters, steve(toyrobot)smith. the lady had broken up, you work constantly, you hurt your knee by falling off of a rail car, and you seem very depressed. This isn’t going to end this way, peeps. No, I won’t let a depressing blog be written. So, the thing that should happen is this: You wake up one morning on a day off, you go out, read the paper, and decide that it’s BEAUTIFUL outside. Play tennis, play golf, kick a squirrel. I don’t care. I go out to the bars MAYBE once a week now. Usually it’s once every two weeks, but with people who are genuinly coolio. And yes, they DO still have Journey on the juke box. Steve Perry sings his enchanted melodies to me as I sip a Heineken and remember how strange it is to not be 21 anymore. Happy birthday, Gina. samunelbeaton
Steve(ToyRobot)smith Can Acrylic on spraycan
Rachel Peeters Egrets Amid Mountains and Streams V Oil on canvas bitchin’ kitsch
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robin lee, douglas somers, chris talbot-heindl. If a Mountain Gorilla Could Speak for Itself By: Robin Lee http://creativecollectivity.ning.com
If a Mountain gorilla could speak for itself It’d say, “Won’t you help me please? There’s only 750 left of us and we’re fighting infectious disease.” It’d say, “I know you know not what its like, to have such a small population 750 is barely a town in your grandiose old nation.
“To protect us from poachers and release us from snares. Who provide local education and veterinarians who can care.”
“And yet you still care and yet you still give; so we might reproduce, and survive to live.
And although they can’t speak, they’d try to say thanks, for the people who donated money from their banks.
“And if we reproduce, and increase our population It’s thanks to you and your generous donations.”
“But 750’s all we got, which is more than we once had. the fate of the mountain gorilla has gone from worse to bad.
They’d say, “I know it’s a lot, for you to care, for those you can’t see but know that is there.
“Thanks to good people who start good foundations and get people to fund raise and gather donations.
“That we’re up in the mountains of remote African towns, fearful of people afraid to come down.
Even if the Gorrilla’s can’t speak for themselves, we can interpret their cries and shouts and listen to their words of thanks for trying to help them out.
Douglas Somers Deal Sharpies and paint pen on paper
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Chris Talbot-Heindl Rebecca Kleefisch from “If You Lived Here” Book page
jenny lila, michelle wojtaszek, jan haskell.
Jenny Lila Madre Raiz/Mother Roots (Los Hermanos Unidos) Mural
A Reflection on Art By: Jan Haskell
Time eyes endless Endless eyes time time endless eyes eyes time endless
The Second Revelation By: Jan Haskell
Michelle Wojtaszek Bruxism II Ink on paper
Silence went a walkin’ Silence went a talkin’ Silence fell a cryin’ No one noticed They all went a talkin’ They all went a walkin’
bitchin’ kitsch
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samuelbeaton, samantha russell-blumenstein, scott cook & string. Tips to Pass the Time During the Apocalypse By: samuelbeaton www.samuelbeaton.com
I survived the 80?s, 90?s, Y2K, and even 10 years of remembering it. However, I must now survive the apocalypse. Yes, 2012 is going to happen soon, so I thought I should give you all some safety tips. 1: Get a flame retardant suit. You will ask me why, but by the time I’m done explaining it, you’ll be on fire. Sometimes, it’s just better to trust the professional. 2: Don’t beware of the four horseman. Even if that does happen, it will take them days to get to where you are and you will know in advance, so you can just take off in your car and be set for about 5 months until they reach you in Florida. When they do, guess what: You can leave again. 3: When stocking up on food, try to do better than rice and beans. Just because you’re in a bomb shelter, it doesn’t mean that you have to live like you’re in one. Make sure to get a pizza oven and a ton of pizza rolls. You’ll thank me later. 4: Break up with your girlfriend or boyfriend prior to 2012. I’ve always liked the idea of dying alone. Some people will call it sad, but think about it: You just saved yourself a ten minute speech about how you “love” them and will “miss” them. No thanks. Those ten minutes could be spent eating pizza rolls. Much more enjoyable. 5: Start the biggest feud you can think of with your worst enemy about 2 days before you take shelter. This will just be fun for you, but also relaxing in the fact that you know they’re stewing about it. Stay away from “Your mom” jokes though. They’re outdated. samuelbeaton
Drip torch Love
By: Samantha Russell-Blumenstein The wind kisses the prairie; she ripples like she breathes Flowers bloom and explode like too-expensive wine from the smashed glass A lightening strike! Fire roars, spirals, races across her Ashen kisses and I am sooty--covered in her. Seedlings and sprouts and silly text messages and wtf is poetry anyway? More smashed glass and dry red wine--fire and nothing blooms and nothing grows. Cold nights, hookah pipes; the prairie sleeps, but spring is coming.
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Scott Cook & string perilous vortex of disintegrating reality India ink, charcoal and pastel on paper
stephanie jones, chris talbot-heindl. fitting
By: Chris Talbot-Heindl
she said: my house smells like cat & single woman... you know, piss and desperation he said: i am a shooting star. maybe i’m going to poop out soon. and the timing is poor facial distortion was too much for me they had nothing amiable to say to each other; the pure honesty that comes from that fellow is well received (even if we both are unbelievably selfish/or because)
Stephanie Jones Consumption and waste/Consume=Waste I Second Space Exhibition Photograph
fitting that i am my own best friend she housed me for reflectivemoments we had a plentiful conversation i can’t remember what was said, i just relish the moment for my own sake i had innocent intentions which was wonderfully sweet i can play with the remnants for posterity’s sake the hilarity/hypocracy of two polar opposite reactions with the same name to the same occassion white trash carnies talking about girls with oedipus complexes the hottt pink neon cross is attached to a church and not floating in space she and i said “self-important” at the same time; that must mean it is true there’s nothing more annoying than a documentarian who pigeon-holes his “subjects”; i was awkwardly awkward
Stephanie Jones Consumption and waste/Consume=Waste II Second Space Exhibition Photograph
he said: if two people think and believe the same thing, there’s no point is there being two i paraphrase i enjoy purporting myself as myself it is only fitting bitchin’ kitsch
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stephanie jones, donors, index. advertisers Bitchin’ Kitsch mcfishenburger Second Space www.talbot-heindl.com
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artists Cook, Scott Ferstl, Beth Haskell, Jan Jones, Stephanie Lee, Robin Lila, Jenny Peeters, Rachel Romanowska, Karolina Russell-Blumenstein, Sam samuelbeaton Somers, Douglas string Talbot-Heindl, Chris (ToyRobot)smith, Steve Wojtasnek, Michelle
2, 6, 10 4 9 11, 12 8 9 7, 13 2 10 6-7, 10 5, 8 10 8, 11 cover, 5, 7 9
Stephanie Jones Smirk Oil on canvas
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We love our donors, and to prove it, we’re going to let you know who they are. Without their generosity, the Bitchin’ Kitsch would probably not make it through the year. If you would like to become a donor and see your name here, email chris@talbot-heindl.com and make your pledge.
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the bitchin’ kitsch, a talbot-heindl project 1735 division st, stevens point, wi 54481 www.talbot-heindl.com