“I guess I don’t care how many people see it, but if someone notices it—it’s that interaction I care about,” says BL▲CK M▲TH. “I had this idea of pasting up something in the woods where maybe one or two people will see it, ever.”

It’s midnight. Me and BL▲CK M▲TH are stooping on his stoop. I’m asking him personal questions, like “Who are you?” and “What does your art mean?” Through it all, he remains friendly. He has an endearing Midwestern candor and an easy smile.

BL▲CK M▲TH is a woodblock printer, collage artist and painter. Often, he chooses to present his work by wheat pasting prints in demure circumstances—to the left of a dumpster or on a windowless brick wall. Suddenly, a dialogue happens between the familiar and the strange that is barely audible yet perfectly clear.

“I paste up because that’s what I like to do,” he says, and he seems loath to complicate the matter.

His prints are four-foot-tall panthers grappling with geometry or skulls narrated through painfully serene atavism. New blocks take a month of long days to carve. The eloquence of his craftsmanship is shocking, even in a morass of dick tags, begging the question: “Where the hell did this come from?”

“In public, exposed to the same elements that we’re exposed to, my prints exist and change within our environment,” he continues. “Eventually, they decompose, rip, disappear. My images are about learning to let go. The truly important things in life are ephemeral and I react to this notion by creating works that are equally as fleeting.”

BL▲CK M▲TH is a necessarily elusive character. At best, wheat pasting sits in a gray shade of legal. Though, his gallery installation, called “Young Ghosts,” opens at this Thursday. He’ll be there. If you can find him in the crowd, expect to find Kurt Cobain’s pleased reincarnation.

[Young Ghosts. Thu 5.19.11. Lorem Ipsum Books. 1299 Cambridge St., Inman Sq., Cambridge. 617.497.7669. 7:30pm/all ages/free.]


Comments are closed.