Andrew Schroeder

It appears that within American culture, there are three times it is acceptable for a man to be an enthusiastic gardener: either when young in rural Nebraska, when in one’s late 60s, or when one is British. Although I am technically none of the above, I am incredibly thrilled by the variety of things growing this summer.
I’ve been somewhat of a flake when it comes to the actual work, but I have had the extreme pleasure of sharing a community garden plot with two good friends. The concept of urban gardening is truly something that any resident of a major city should not take for granted. As I was walking around the garden this afternoon taking photos, I started to wonder about the evolutionary effects of our species movement to urban areas will have on the plants we bring with us. Will we engineer and come to favor planting pollution resistant variants of spinach? Or, instead of changes to the plants we tend, will our cities take on the positive qualities, biodiversity and egalitarian aura of the average garden?

Perhaps one of the greatest things about trying to work minimalism into my life is the practice of curating all the objects in my home. Although nothing is overly luxurious or rare, each of the objects I am exposed to daily has some actual significance. In a society that makes consumption inescapable, this tiny act of concentration makes an enormous difference.

I am fortunate to live with this tiny bit of Mid-Century modern furniture in my house…

In the film Amelie, there are a number of great scenes where the characters likes and dislikes are rapidly recounted for the audience. I’ve always found these little tidbits fascinating and wish I could have a similar narrator’s voice popping into my consciousness throughout my workday. What could possibly be a better social lubricant than having that information up front? If I had to narrate myself… “Andrew is obsessed with cleaning, organizing, and photographing the workspace where he rarely actually works.”

An oldie but goodie from the days when George W Bush was still president. Somewhere in central Minneapolis, there was an enormous sculpture/installation of sorts depicting all of the evils of the administration. Nothing says political protest piece like baby heads and astroturf.

"October 18, 1977", Gerhard Richter, 1988 from the series of 15 paintings.

It has been two weeks since Osama bin Laden was killed by US marines in Pakistan. There has been an enormous amount of healthy discussion on blogs and news sites about the importance of seeing images of his body. I’m going to refrain from joining in on this discussion of “seeing is believing” and instead look for a way to analyze the images that have emerged in broader art context. (more…)

When I came across this image in the news this morning, I couldn’t resist. It appears that everyone’s favorite source for marriage and morality advice, Newt Gingrich, has officially announced his bid for the presidency of the fine crap-hold known as America. Now, don’t get me wrong here, I’m a liberal (AKA in the USA: a gay-communist-anti christ-abortion/death squad leader) but now I’m having second thoughts. LOOK AT THOSE CHINS! Yes, plural: C-H-I-N-S. Seriously! Look at all the gloriously lustrous, bulbous bags of fat under that man’s mandible. Just think of the sweat that accumulates there on a warm Washington DC day. I’m ready to see some gravy dribbling down this man’s grossly over-indulged chins as he takes us back in the 19th century. God bless the USA!