“Bullshit said: omg. this whole thing where everyone and their mother is getting shows for their 'art' has to stop.”

That was a post left on Templeton Elliott’s blog on the Skateboard Mag’s website announcing Dave’s then upcoming show, “Minutwar” here in Portland. If you’ve only begun skateboarding during this current decade you are probably not that familiar with Dave’s work at Big Brother. To go back even further, if you weren’t skateboarding in the late 80’s and early 90’s you wouldn’t know that Dave rode for Foundation skateboards and, in my opinion, had one of the best styles in skateboarding. No, Dave wasn’t the gnarliest dude to ride a skateboard. He didn’t have a huge bag of tricks, very little if any street skills, but what he was doing on transition looked proper. The things that stand out in my mind are backside smith grinds, head high, straight up and down stalefish’s and loud lien to tails. Oh, and tail blocks of course. I know that even in 1990, as far as cutting edge technical skateboarding goes, the “tail block” was an antiquated maneuver, but still he made them look rad. I am very much into the idea that at times less is more, do a few things in a good way instead of doing a little bit of everything and having poor form across the board. For me Dave’s skating was the perfect example of less being more, and, in some ways, it carries over into his photos.
I will not fault “Bullshit” for his initial reaction to another skateboarder having an art show. Most of the time I feel the same way. And it’s not just “Bullshit” who didn’t know about Dave’s work. A lot of my friends who casually knew of Dave through his writing would be totally unaware of his photography. They had no clue, and how could they? Dave’s stuff hasn’t really been all that accessible to the public these past 10 plus years. His last solo show was, I think, in ’94? He might come across as a bit late to the whole skateboard artist boom. The reality is that Dave was heavily involved in the skate art world during the early 90’s having shown his work in Hollywood, San Francisco, London and at Aaron Rose’s Alleged gallery in New York. I believe that if Dave had continued to produce his photography instead of focusing on writing that he would be held in league with other successful contemporary artists like Chris Johanson, Thomas Campbell or whoever else got their start in skateboarding and went on to gain acceptance in the mainstream art world.

Dave would never consider himself a “serious artist.” I doubt he would consider himself a serious anything—maybe he’s serious when it comes to food and drink, but I believe that would be about it. The thing about Dave’s current art is that—for me anyways—it works on just about any level. Is "Let's Hear It For The Chickens, (Easter)" a joke, or is it supposed to fill you with a sense of dread, or is just absurdly ridiculous? For me it is all of these things and more. Do I need to know that it's Addie who's laying inside the coffin to fully understand “My Mother is a Fish (As I Lay Dying)”? No, I could be illiterate and it would still convey the same intense feeling of struggle and loss. Or, for somebody else, it could just be a cool looking picture, nice composition or whatever—you don't need to get the literary references that appear throughout this collection, or feel like you are ignorant to some deeper meaning and don't know how to appreciate high-end art. "Minutwar" is accessible to everyone and isn't condescending in any way, it allows you to take whatever you want from it and feel satisfied.
—Arthur Lindsey

I asked some of Dave’s friends for a few questions:

Tobin in Brooklyn has a multi-part question, "How did you make the portrait of Chris Johanson, and does he really have only one arm?"

I’m pretty sure Chris has two arms. But I did cut one of them off with some very sharp and dangerous oil pastels from Switzerland. I cut off Cash’s leg in “As I Lay Dying” as well. Although not as convincingly. I had to cut Chris’ arm off. He deserved it. Have you ever seen his paintings? He’s always cutting people’s arms off. They’re all getting in knife fights in front of Al’s Liquor Hut and cuttin’ each other’s arms off and bleeding in the streets. I had to teach him a lesson. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Next we have Jon Humphries from Portland OR, Jon writes, "Have you ever pushed Larry flint in his wheel chair?"

No, I haven’t, Jon. But, I have pushed Larry Flynt OUT of his wheelchair. HAHA! I make funny. I have touched his wheelchair, though. It’s gold plated. Like everything he owns. Just trashy. Yet, at the same time, kind of cool. I mean, kind of cool in the sense that he has the money to do whatever stupid shit he wants to do. What would happen if Muska or Smolik suddenly came into millions of dollars? I suppose they both probably did make a lot of money and bought a lot of stupid shit, but they didn’t make the money Flynt was making. Flynt made the kind of money where you have so much of it you can’t do anything but buy jets and buildings. And gold plate your wheelchair.

Ethan Fowler in LA is curious as to why you no longer make huge oversized prints?

I’ve come to accept the size of my penis and I’ve realized that I no longer need to surround myself with large, loud, ostentatious displays of grandeur. Plus I’m running out of the big sheets of paper I use for those.

Another question from Portland OR is from Ray Gordon, "Dave could you please describe in detail the recipe for a ‘Portland Frank,’ and don't beat around the bush on this one."

The Portland Frank was created by me in Ray’s kitchen in Portland in the middle of the night. Drugs and alcohol were involved, so it shouldn’t seem strange that I did this all by myself in the dark, wee hours of the morning. I still marvel at the genius of the recipe.

Ingredients:
Your penis
Someone else’s refrigerator (can’t be your own).
Mustard. (I’m not a big fan of French’s yellow mustard, but for this dish its bright yellow color is ideal.)

Open refrigerator door and remove mustard. Whip out your penis and squirt mustard all over it. Without touching it, bathe your cock in the light of the refrigerator until it is fully erect. Once erect, use your index finger to wipe the mustard off your penis and then spread the mustard liberally on your upper lip so that you have a bright yellow mustache. Voila, you have made a Portland Frank.

Bryce Kanights would like to know why the name "Whalecock"?

Subconsciously this might have come from O, who used to say “Bird cock” all the time. But when “whale cock” came out of my mouth the very first time, it was out of nowhere. I was doing an interview with some lady for a Japanese fashion magazine. I have no idea why, but you think I’m going to turn that shit down? So I got dressed up like a crazy wigga, “Yo yo yo!” and basically just acted like an idiot and never said anything remotely close to the truth for the duration of the interview. She totally bought it. At one point she asked me, “What, ahhhhh, crothing companies are, ahhhh, hot light now?” Without missing a beat, I said, “Oh yo dude, WHALE COCK is off the hook, yo! That shit’s hella puke, bitch!” I also invented the term “hella puke” during that interview. “Herra pook?” she asked. So that’s how Whale Cock was born. As to why I decided to use it for the name of a skateboard company? Well, I think my skateboard company is very similar to the biggest cock on earth. It’s huge.

We have another question from Tobin Yelland and this time he would like to know if you are currently working on any music projects?

Yes. I’m in a band with my wife and our friend Sharan called THE SLUTZ. I play all the music and they write the lyrics and sing. The subject matter of every song is really slutty. Like, “Slutz Go All the Way,” and “I’m a Drunk,” those are great Slutz songs. Unfortunately we’re not very good because we have a rule: no music can be made sober, or before midnight. So not only is the music all slutty, it’s sloppy drunk slutty. The lyrics to “I’m a Drunk” sum it up: “Drink too much, talk too loud, knock things over, I’m a drunk!”

Billy Holcumb from West Virginia asks “If you could be any hockey player who would it be and why?” Billy believes that it would be Willie O'Ree.

Ah, the first black hockey player. And he was a Bruin. Good guess. If Billy hadn’t already given away the punch line, that would have been a good joke. Well played, Billy. And now I’m obligated to play along and match him wit for wit. There was a little goalie from Japan that played a couple of games for the Kings a couple years ago, but that’s too similar to Willie O’Ree. I want to say something like Bobby Orr, or Eddie Shore, but they’re too obvious. Mark Messier is the most scandalous homosexual hockey player, but he hasn’t come out and all the stories are just rumors. Don Cherry is awesome. He only played a couple games in the NHL but he’s a lifer. I like Tie Domi for some reason. He was such a great fighter. He laughed while he was fighting. Oh! One of the Hanson brothers would be good? Actually that’s really unoriginal as well. I have this thing with “clever sweaters.” Clever Sweaters are worn to display a deeper level of knowledge about hockey. Most people will wear a simple Teemu Selanne Ducks jersey to a Ducks game, but those that are really into it (or want to appear more in the know) will wear Teemu’s Finnish National Team jersey. “HEY! I’m wearing a shirt from Finland!” I could go on, but one of my favorites are the douche bags that wear Chiefs jerseys. The Chiefs are a real team, but everyone that is wearing one is saying, “Hanson Brothers.” The problem is that there are at least a dozen of these assholes at every game and they look like those two girls at the prom that wore the exact same dress. Real original guys. So, yeah, Willie O’Ree. Nice work Billy.

Here we have a couple questions from Russ Pope: Mush ramp or Page Mill? Toast or beer?

Russ is that dude that’s in every classroom that just loves to hear the sound of his own voice, so he asks questions he already knows the answer to. It’s a form of ass kissing. Because he also knows the teacher enjoys answering the questions. And that is precisely the case here. Russ knows the answers, and I am delighted to provide them. Because I'm a narcissist like that. Mush Ramp is the answer to the first question. Because that was our ramp in San Jose (technically Cupertino). Page Mill was a ramp in Los Altos owned by a kook. In terms of construction, Page Mill was the better ramp. For one, it was much wider. Mush Ramp was kind of janky in comparison, but it was taller and cooler (both in vibe and temperature (it was in the woods)). The parents at the Page Mill ramp were English and they fucking sucked like the worst English people. The snobby asshole kind. There were only certain days and times you could skate at Page Mill. It was by appointment. Mush Ramp, on the other hand, was on a creek in the woods and you could drink, and smoke pot (we were still too young for that stuff at the time, but the older kids did), and skate pretty much when you wanted. The sessions were way better at Mush Ramp. In regards to the second question, I think everyone knows the answer is beer. But Russ is bringing to light my infinite love of toast. When I first met Russ in college in San Luis Obispo, my roommate and I were very poor. All we could afford was beer and toast. We became quite the connoisseurs of toast and we had thousands of ways of preparing it. To the naked eye, it just looked like the same piece of toast, but to us each slice was magnificently different than the one before. Probably because we were drunk on beer.

And finally Chris Johanson writes, "What did then to for now?"

Is a good question. There is the kinds of questions, the I have pleasure the answer. The I seems as something wrote, because I has pleasures always to tie the packages together delayed words which seem, like it together, but to finally go would not have to seem. Imported, which reasonably it. Chris estimates the nonsense writing likewise. Did you see its painting? It is word forges. Thanks.

•All work on this site is for sale. All of the works are black and white, silver gelatin photographs, hand printed by the artist. Each of the pieces is lovingly toned in extremely dangerous toxic chemicals and dyes, and then it is treated to a soothing oil pastel massage. Because of the amount of work involved in crafting each work, and the volatility of the chemicals involved, there are very few duplicates, if any, of the pieces shown. Prices are reflections of the quality of the craftsmanship and the work that goes into creating each piece. If interested, please email davidcarnie@earthlink.net for prices and more info.*