Loren Connors' fantastic "A Coming to Shore" gallery exhibit is now open at Blank Forms through March 25 at the Brooklyn gallery. Seven recent large- and small-scale works are on display. 

"Much like his guitar playing, Connors’s visual works are always slowly transforming: when he runs out of canvas space, the artist paints over 'finished' pieces and starts again, this ritualistic layering contributing to what Aki Onda has described as their 'mystical quality.' Diagnosed with Parkinsons in 1991, Connors’s strength and range of movement are in decline, yet he paints every afternoon, committed to visualizing the intangible. The works on view 'have the feeling of horizon, but not all of them depict horizons,' Connors has said. With gestural swathes of black, gray, yellow, and green, the paintings in 'A Coming to Shore' limn boundaries, the spaces between what is 'beneath, behind, above, below, and within' which have occupied Connors for nearly half a century." — Blank Forms

Bruce Anderson (& his MX-80 family) was the reason Family Vineyard was founded. For me, MX-80 Sound’s debut 1976 EP and LP is a pinnacle of rock n roll’s possibilities. “Tidal Wave” or “Man on the Move” just makes me lose my mind.

So FV's first release was Strict-- a darkly brilliant tapestry of Bruce's savage n’ meditative n’ barbed guitar wrapped in Feldman, Monteverdi, etc. samples & MX-underpins. Between 1999-2004, Family Vineyard released five albums by Bruce, Dale and the gang as O-Type that culminated in The New Edge boxset and DVD. Then, it was the total honor to release MX-80's first studio album in over a decade.

When Bruce came back to Bloomington, Ind. in 1999 as part of a 50th birthday trip to see family in his tiny hometown of Oolitic he also performed solo at the Buskirk-Chumley Theater. A lot of the locals expected the MX-juggernaut sound. But that was never going to happen.

Bruce’s guitar somehow got knocked out of tune before he hit the stage. So, he played a few notes then worked his effects for an hour, shaping tones into a flutter, then conjured a blood thick drone that swallowed everyone up. At the end, when we got spit out, most walked bewildered out into the street.

Thank you, Bruce.

RIP, Bruce Anderson
October 22, 1949 - January 10, 2022