The Quest Party Rides!

Last week during my artist residency at my in-laws (big up to my in-laws who make any writing possible by watching the kids on Sunday), I crashed out hard. I just straight up fell asleep on a curved couch and slept for 3 hours. By the time I woke up, I hadn't the time to log any thoughts. I know y'all were probably like, "WAIT, you didn't write last week? I hadn't even noticed." But, I wanted to keep you in the loop, okay? Even if you didn't notice among the 4,000 other newsletters you now receive to your email inbox, I know I did.

I feel a sort of way if I don't get to have my say in a week. I feel more automaton than human, especially since my job as a technical writer involves employing a style guide that is comprised of someone else's grammatical rules and dryly summarizing facts and events. There is no waxing poetic about what anything means in a wide expansive sense. Instead of romanticism, it's a pure pursuit of rationalism. Instead of the exploration of mystery, it's the surgical exposition of facts. I do believe strongly that freely available information is key to a functioning democracy, so I have no qualms with doing that work. By the end of the week though, I do crave to use my writing toolkit in a more outrageous and outlandish manner.

Enter my rich descriptions of my weekly quests that I have been embarking on all summer as a survival strategy. As I get ready to write, I can imagine the lead of the article: "Local man quests to art gallery with friends," as foreboding organ music plays in the background. That is precisely how I want to think about the quests I make up for myself or I am gifted by my collaborators. I want background music. I want smells. I want to know how it feels outside. I want to know what oddities are beheld. In short, I just want to be embroiled in telling stories using all the information that I am required to exclude from any of the stories I tell for a living. Whereas I am a nameless cog in a bureaucratic process at work, here I am a vital member of a web of relations. I ain't no main character, that's a capitalist fallacy of rugged individualism. I can be an important part in a chain reaction that propels the world I am building with friends forward in some way.

One of the most important ways that one can contribute to a local community is by viewing and caring about art. There is no more deflating experience than to work to put something together and then your community doesn't show up. It's cliche to thank one's fans, community, and collaborators for a reason; it lacks a life-changing force without them. Without people to experience the art, the art remains a solitary personal expression (which is totally valid and personally transformative). With people in the spell, the art takes on a larger than life expression that can lead to all sorts of important developments for a whole group of people beyond yourself. As a bike questing wizard, I am interested in stirring in people into cauldrons (contexts) where people have worked hard to build something. That's where we have the capacity to build new worlds together.

This is why I decided incredibly last minute to organize a bike quest from Z cycle shop on Colfax and Steele to Rachel Ralph Gallery ("RRG"). I had planned to ride over to Jae Mo and Kevin Hennesy's show for four reasons. First Jae and Kevin's show looked amazing. Second, Jae and Kevin were gonna hold open hours during the afternoon on Saturdays when I have a little pocket of child care. Third, I had some Psych Blues film #5 in the fridge and knew that it would be a really cool spot to photograph with it. Fourth, I missed Jack Cackovic's show, so I was itching to get over there to see what I could of it and the mural Jack made. The thought occurred to me one night: "What if I just put an open call on my pirate radiostation on the web ("xillenial-gram ") and invite anyone who wants to to attend. I felt like this was a great opportunity to take my personal questing practice and transform it into a community praxis. AND GUESS WHAT? PEOPLE CAME! Huzzah! HOORAY!

The decision to have the first quest at RRG is perfect, because that gallery exudes the ethos of community art. They invited a weirdo like me in with open arms when I came to the first show by Heather Link Bergman with my simple polaroid camera. I had no intention to buy anything, but what a lacked in dollars I made up for in enthusiasm for local artists, like Heather, who I respect greatly. Instead of opening the gallery in one of the expensive storefronts (and bringing a whole host of problems such a decision would expose their curation to), Rachel and Jack retrofitted their garage into a gallery where the community could meet and celebrate artists they live right next to. Now, we have a more underground space where people can gather in celebration of art without feeling immense pressure to buy or be anybody to feel like they belong.

Once our quest party departed Z, we had a regularly ole hootenanny. We rode at a leisurely, conversational pace over the four miles on back streets on the east side from Z Cycles over to the detached garage that RRG resides in. There were no pace lines. No one got dropped. And we always stayed within a stones throw of Colfax Ave to ensure that we kept open the opportunity for random occurrences that are always more likely to occur near the longest, wickedest street in America. I was rewarded for this route planning with a wonderful photo of a discarded couch whose cushions were already pilfered that had been tagged on by a local writer.

and with a large scrawled construction notice telling onlookers of a nearby sink hole. Seems safe, right? Quests are indeed perilous, even in this day and age.

Once we arrived, we all took our time chatting with Jae Mo and Kevin and soaking in what they made, which was partially a memorial for the puppy they lost recently (RIP!). I took a ton of 35mm shots of the exhibit with the psychedelic Blues film #5 ISO 200 film stock, which features streaks of color and some galaxy effects. In the specks of time that I sat back and relaxed that day, I noticed that everyone was hitting it off wonderfully. It looks like bikes and art do make for excellent simmering pot for local connections. I was banking on this, but you never truly know how it will go. Fingers crossed that our next bike quest will offer just as much slow, cheap fun. FUN? IN THIS ECONOMY? Yes, it turns out that, "we could be dangerous. Art (could be a) real threat." We could make, design our own fun and not have it be commoditized by some nerds who only want to extract value out of what a community creates. We can build our own worlds. The future is ours to seize.

Enjoy this round up of all the photos from that day and be on the look out for the next quest. I think we will do a tour of local graffiti spots that feature some of my favorite examples of one writer/wheatpaste/woodworker. Regardless of what we choose, we will be taking the quest out into the plein aire gallery of the streets and alley ways that are always free for us to visit without any pretension or worry about us being looked down upon because we don't have hundred or thousands of dollars to spend. Most galleries aren't like RRG, so we won't be trying our luck in other galleries.

I didn't shoot the whole roll during the quest, so I was able to capture a few more soul gems with the rest of the roll on my next solo quest. That quest was sick, but I missed my new and old homies!

Also, the work on the 2026 photo book is ongoing. I got a better file transfer option so I can work on a draft of the book in canva on the go, like at my ongoing artist residency at my in-laws. I am going to aim for like 100 or so pages. After consulting with a bunch of nice folks who have more experience than me in making zines, I am not gonna print it myself. I want to print with big homie Backdoor Publishing. I am mostly just going to document what I have seen this year and find interesting in tags, throws, wheatpastes, other public art, and random oddities. I will not by any stretch of the imagination offer a comprehensive accounting of Denver street art. What will be there will be a selective archive of the art that moved me/inspired me to keep going, mostly from the Eastside. Yes, dear reader, I, like you possibly, struggle with the mental health and taking these photos and making new friends has been the exact shot in the arm that I needed to keep going (aside from my family and kids obviously). I will make the zine free and distribute artist copies to all the folks whose art is featured in the volume. I am not about to make money off of other people's art, especially when I don't even charge for my own art any more.

My hope for this project will be that it becomes a community endeavor that offers a tiny archive of sorts for the plein air ("Open Air") gallery in the streets. Those who know me will attest to the fact that I am a stubborn old bird that doesn't give up easily, so fingers crossed this is a while. I had a similar project on a wordpress page related to Columbus, OH electronic music called Local Autonomy about a decade ago, so this is a return to a role I have played before in a local arts community as a scene archivist/documenter. However, there has been a learning curve as I go print. That curve will abate soon once I get a volume or two done. I will indulge myself in including one essay that provides some thoughts I have about why street art is important for all of us in 2026 and put in some photos that I have taken that I really love. I also hope to have a weaving or two of mine out there by the time we go to press, so I can give myself a page. (hehe – Who says old dudes can't contribute?)

Anyways, I hope all is well with you all. Consider signing up for a free subscription below so you don't have to rely on some corporate platform to inform you that I have published something. I have a day job, so I don't have to commodify anything related to this work. It's all soul and no filler. 100% human always. (for better or worse – hehehehe – that's for you to decide).

Best,

James