Lowbrow Rural Pop Art. The cultural vacuum of small town living leaves much to the imagination. Nights and days alone, living in your head and laughing at the absurd. Gotta turn things upside down once in a while. Nothing’s cool and no one wants it to be. “Liberalism is a social disease. Go back to California!” All you can do is laugh. Everyone is twice my age and I kinda like it that way. Escape down Highway 89 to flush the toilet of my polluted mind, but I always come back for more. This is life inside of a snow globe.
Mountains of garbage in the streets and the roar of the garbage man’s truck down the block, rotten half empty beer cans behind the dumpster with their sweet odor. Ruined lives on the side of the road waiting for salvation in the form of a tow truck to haul away your burned out car and the whole existence you had in it. A bad mushroom trip in a filthy apartment, and the smell of cigarette smoke on your jacket after a long and blurry night. A bad haircut. One too many al pastor tacos from the hole in wall taqueria leaving you delirious and bloated. The empty stare of the scary man coming towards you on the sidewalk is jarring. Looking for something you don’t know exists at 1 AM on a Tuesday.
“Go on, defend yourself!” The work speaks for itself. I need to keep doing this or I’ll lose my shit. That’s the idea. We can all spice it up a little for the artist statement. I’m lucky to be able to do this. How do I describe this feeling? I guess I just did. This body of work is influenced by the beauty of the ignored.
S. Jordan Palmer was born and raised in Prescott, Arizona