my exploits...im mr. orange...HA!!
im mister orange and one of my pics reveals that real hardcore
May 11, 2004
Guerrilla florists add flash and dash
By Sherry Lucas
slucas@clarionledger.com
The guerrilla florists wish to remain anonymous. I'll oblige. They made me laugh. I'm on their side. I didn't catch their names anyway. But they were easy to spot sunglasses indoors, fake flowers on their lapels.
There are five, I hear, in the guerrilla floristry. I met with three of them, to find out who/what was behind recent random acts of flowering in the city. The blooms first caught my eye on pruned crape myrtles along the sidewalk in front of Bailey Magnet School a yellow rose "sprouting" from a stubby branch, or pink petals peeking out from new green growth. After a doubletake to confirm they were fake, I had to laugh. Who'd rescue a brutish silhouette with such a snatch of whimsy?
I sat down with my answer, a trio of Jackson-area 20- to mid-30-somethings, armed with an artistic bent and a sense of play. "There's a crape myrtle near where I live, and whenever they go through that extreme pruning, it looks like somebody jammed a twig into the sidewalk," Mr. Orange (color of his flower) said.
A daisy a day
Somebody should put flowers on the poor thing, a friend said. "I ended up Andy Warholing her idea." Next day, their flower was taken down. So, he bought 150 bunches of flowers, six of the longest rolls of Duct tape he could find, called friends and, under cover of darkness, bloomed Jackson.
Duct tape?
"It's very tacky," White said.
Aesthetically or adhesively? They left it to me to decide.
It started right about the first of the year. "There was almost a vacuum of aesthetic appeal. And I guess we felt a calling to fill it," said Mr. Orange. "We're adding to something that will make people smile when they see it, pause and wonder what it's all about."
Urban installation art, dada performance, flash mobbing, culture jamming maybe elements of each. Those with questions and ideas can e-mail flashmobjackson@yahoo.com.
It's not a meaning thing, they say. It's action. A reflex. Fun. Some flowers carried messages the open-ended sort you usually find in horoscopes and fortune cookies. "You're really good at that" was one they recalled.
Spreading cheer
It's a happy side effect, a community service. And more than just naked branches benefited. They festooned a basketball in Belhaven one night, taping a good dozen fake flowers on it, then put it back where they found it.
They hit a drive-through, without an order but with a delivery. "What's this for?" said the girl who got the flower. "For you, of course," came the reply. When Mr. Orange went back through as a customer later, she told him it made her night.
They stuck a flower on the lapel of the Andrew Jackson head.
Floristing is a seasonal thing. Nature does it better, and is doing so right now. But there are always other media to dabble in. "Like maybe guerrilla snowmen. Or premature jack-o'-lanterns, in August," Mr. White said.
Mr. Orange, headed to New Zealand soon, takes the zeal with him. "It's their winter, luckily enough, so I get to, I guess, plant a seed."
im mister orange and one of my pics reveals that real hardcore
May 11, 2004
Guerrilla florists add flash and dash
By Sherry Lucas
slucas@clarionledger.com
The guerrilla florists wish to remain anonymous. I'll oblige. They made me laugh. I'm on their side. I didn't catch their names anyway. But they were easy to spot sunglasses indoors, fake flowers on their lapels.
There are five, I hear, in the guerrilla floristry. I met with three of them, to find out who/what was behind recent random acts of flowering in the city. The blooms first caught my eye on pruned crape myrtles along the sidewalk in front of Bailey Magnet School a yellow rose "sprouting" from a stubby branch, or pink petals peeking out from new green growth. After a doubletake to confirm they were fake, I had to laugh. Who'd rescue a brutish silhouette with such a snatch of whimsy?
I sat down with my answer, a trio of Jackson-area 20- to mid-30-somethings, armed with an artistic bent and a sense of play. "There's a crape myrtle near where I live, and whenever they go through that extreme pruning, it looks like somebody jammed a twig into the sidewalk," Mr. Orange (color of his flower) said.
A daisy a day
Somebody should put flowers on the poor thing, a friend said. "I ended up Andy Warholing her idea." Next day, their flower was taken down. So, he bought 150 bunches of flowers, six of the longest rolls of Duct tape he could find, called friends and, under cover of darkness, bloomed Jackson.
Duct tape?
"It's very tacky," White said.
Aesthetically or adhesively? They left it to me to decide.
It started right about the first of the year. "There was almost a vacuum of aesthetic appeal. And I guess we felt a calling to fill it," said Mr. Orange. "We're adding to something that will make people smile when they see it, pause and wonder what it's all about."
Urban installation art, dada performance, flash mobbing, culture jamming maybe elements of each. Those with questions and ideas can e-mail flashmobjackson@yahoo.com.
It's not a meaning thing, they say. It's action. A reflex. Fun. Some flowers carried messages the open-ended sort you usually find in horoscopes and fortune cookies. "You're really good at that" was one they recalled.
Spreading cheer
It's a happy side effect, a community service. And more than just naked branches benefited. They festooned a basketball in Belhaven one night, taping a good dozen fake flowers on it, then put it back where they found it.
They hit a drive-through, without an order but with a delivery. "What's this for?" said the girl who got the flower. "For you, of course," came the reply. When Mr. Orange went back through as a customer later, she told him it made her night.
They stuck a flower on the lapel of the Andrew Jackson head.
Floristing is a seasonal thing. Nature does it better, and is doing so right now. But there are always other media to dabble in. "Like maybe guerrilla snowmen. Or premature jack-o'-lanterns, in August," Mr. White said.
Mr. Orange, headed to New Zealand soon, takes the zeal with him. "It's their winter, luckily enough, so I get to, I guess, plant a seed."
piracy:
comment?