THE CARNE AND QUESO BLOG

Y'ALL REMEMBER THAT GUY

WERK?

I DON'T, BUT HERE IS A FUNNY STORY WRITTEN BY THE MAN WITH THE PLAN, SENOR KAI FLOOD...

(REPOSTED FROM http://www.artasauthority.com/2008/08/werk.html#more)

Only really badass art blurs the line between art and terrorism. The coolest example in my mind is that dude who got busted by the FBI for doing art with germs and bacteria.

WERK, the man (and not what we do for money) has a pretty good story though. When I first heard it I was reminded of some Earth First wet dream, but as I read the police report I realized that it was just one big performance art piece being played out in the suburbs. The main characters are McDonalds, trashy commerce, bored kids, and inept detectives.

The story is pretty funny and it’s pretty easy to laugh at it when Werk is right next to you laughing as well. If I were him I wouldn’t be laughing at all though, I’d be haunted by visions of being the first person thrown in Guantanamo for performance art. But someone has to do the damn thing and fight the good fight, I’m just glad that it isn’t me. If you are assisting a criminal syndicate that is trying to take down a criminal state, are you an angel or a sinner? Just don’t look back kiddo, keep it moving.

The rapid evolution of the media we are assaulted with daily is a barrage of regurgitated imagery and graphic design intended to increase consumption. The self expression inherent in any art is being perverted as soon as economic opportunity presents itself. The only stuff that lasts long is on the fringes; society grabs a hold of the rest as quick as possible and rips it into indistinguishable shreds. In some not too distant Orwellian future, we may see all forms of expression outlawed, that doesn’t promote a major corporation or peddle wares. Art for arts sake is being relegated to a mere waste of time and space. I have visions of Artists (that’s right capital A mofo) being sent to indoctrination camps where they learn to create something that will serve the “Financier Oligarchy” rather then freeing their subconscious and letting their inner demons loose.

I met Werk midway through my graffiti career as he was just getting fired up. I had no idea that he had felony priors for assisting a criminal syndicate, hovering over his head, every time he picked up a spray can. From a police report: “I learned the Midnight Mechanics were an anti-government/establishment group who were specifically targeting valley McDonalds locations. These Mechanics would tune-up the stores by committing theft and criminal damage in an attempt to disrupt commerce while at the same time leaving their trademark name and moniker.” It goes on to state that a detective learned of the crew while attending a different anti-government group meeting as an undercover agent. Goddammit, don’t they know that real anarchists don’t go to meetings of anti-government groups!

The first face to face between (now several) detectives and the Midnight Mechanics went something like this: “Werk answered the door after we knocked. He invited us into the apartment. The apartment was in disarray and not very clean. After approximately five minutes Werk obtained a glass pipe containing a green leafy substance and began to smoke it. I immediately recognized the smell to be that of marijuana. Werk then removed more marijuana from the plastic baggy and packed the bowl portion of the pipe. He offered the pipe to us (the detectives) but we refused to smoke the marijuana. He asked if we were the police and we said no. He asked if we would smoke some marijuana to prove that we were not the police. After a short conversation, he agreed that we did not have to smoke the marijuana and that we were not the police.” Yeah, I believe that for about half a second.

A few weeks pass and a bunch more McDonalds get messed up when dumbass Werk and his buddy ask the undercover if he wants to help them thrash a Mickey D’s (their first mistake). More of the detective’s report: “The incident, which was video taped, involved steeling (original typo included) the big “M” sign and tagging (spray painting) the Midnight Mechanics moniker (a fist holding a wrench) several places on the property including some newspaper stands.” Detective Five-O continued to stalk these bored little kids, and writes: “…continued contact with members of the Midnight Mechanics as they talked about doing bigger crimes to bring more attention to their causes including blowing up television antennas to knock out major media stations.” These actions are highly illegal, but defiantly on the moral high ground.

They trash a shit ton more McDonalds and the plot thickens as one of Werk’s buddies calls up the undercover cop. From the original court documents, crappy punctuation left intact once again: “(one of the other Midnight mechanics) spoke of 'impeding the flow of commerce' on 'Buy Nothing Day.' During my internet research I learned Buy Nothing Day is an annual event for activists (sic). The day is celebrated on the busiest shopping day of the year, the day after thanksgiving (sic). The day is celebrated across the globe with demonstrations and criminal acts in hopes to deter wasteful spending and capitalism. The plan for 'Buy Nothing Day' was to cement a main entrance of (a local mall) closed to impede commerce for the malls busiest day of shopping.” Notice that the detective writing this garbage is already ripping off the poetic descriptions of the Midnight Mechanics themselves. What a hack!

The report continues: “It was determined that the criminal acts would be allowed to develop to a point to prove a crime was occurring. The group had constructed a wooded barrier propped up by mall garbage cans in front of the main entrance of the mall. Behind the barrier they emptied several bags of cement onto the entranceway. One person spray painted 'Buy Nothing' on one of the garbage cans. As they tried to wet down the cement the police conducting the surveillance shined a flashlight onto the group scaring them off.”

They would be busted a short time later, as the detectives had already gathered up their names and addresses. As underage kids, none of them had to do major time (being upper middle class probably didn’t hurt either) and they got of relatively light with large fines and the instructions that they were never to hang out again together. A funny side note to the whole Midnight Mechanics debacle is that only four out of five of the members of the group ended up getting popped. The one kid that got away was the only one who refused to have his high school yearbook picture taken (the mark of a true anarchist). So, Werk is forever left with the scarlet letter of a felon for something as innocuous as pouring some cement on a door while Mickey D’s faces no charges for clogging the arteries of billions and billions. And so it goes.

Since Werk is no longer trashing any more McDonald’s (or at least not admitting to it) his fine art progresses, with a signature pop art style, that is able to address larger questions while still being infused with the wit and balls of taking action without the criminal repercussions. His art delves into the sweet realm of poetic terrorism the same way a bag of cement poured onto mall doors does. I feel the story of the Midnight Mechanics is the best introduction I can offer the reader about his art. Anything short of that would be missing the key elements that describe his creative impetus. If you didn’t know where he started from, you might think his imagery is a little crazy; but if you know the kid and what he likes to do for fun, then it all makes perfect sense.

Finally, another funny side note to this story is that I was recently at a RZA show with Werk, and inadvertently sabotaged a table of Earth First propaganda myself. I saw Werk from the back and ran up and gave him a reverse bear hug. His whole drink flew out of his hand and onto all of their literature. The two hipsters manning the booth were amicable enough about the ruined propaganda, though they politely asked me to pay for the ruined materials. When I declined, they looked so sad that I asked them what I could do to help them. They informed me there was some freeway construction going on down the road, and implied that perhaps, the paving equipment could meet a timely and tragic accident. I laughed and asked them how they knew I wasn’t an undercover cop (cause you never know right?) before informing them that the only dirt I do is for myself. Besides, I was already content with having a monkey wrenched group that only wants to monkey wrench the system.