Wednesday, June 20, 2007

PRAYER TO THE WIND

I have never in my life seen the sky so blue. This is downtown Lhasa, Tibet. The buildings are build from straw and mud, and then painted. A lot like adobe. The colorful things on the rooftops are prayer flags. Tibetans write their prayers on these small pieces of cloth and put them up on the roofs. The wind then carries the prayers away.

Tibet is perhaps the most amazing place ever. A nation should have the right to rule themselves. End Chinese imperialism.

Free Tibet.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

CELLO

Sunday, April 29, 2007

MY DORKDOM

Sorry for not posting anything in ages and ages.

Here are the fruits of my nerdiness. A photoshop rendering of an autonomous vehicle.

Haha! it has clouds reflecting in it.

It reminds me a little bit of a robot that would say "I'll take you there but I won't enjoy it" :o(

Sunday, March 11, 2007

YOUR REAL

Here is the latest in music that should never be heard by anyone:

https://filebox.vt.edu/users/davechap/

It is the second one on there. Let me know if you have trouble getting to it.

Sorry about the poor mixing

Monday, February 26, 2007

NICE ICE

It is frickin cold. And walking is more like skiing.

In my homeland of Virginia car drives you.

Check out how all life has ceased movement. We are approaching absolute zero. Zero degrees Kelvin. The point where all the little atoms stop moving and Dave moves somewhere warmer.

But it is beautiful no?

Monday, February 12, 2007

SPAK MERI NA BOSCRU WANTAIM HUN-IA

Shout out to my California girls

Dave is in the so-called "House"


Just more photos to make you really want to come to PNG.

All is well. Music is playing. Thesis is happening and blah-di-blah-blah-blah.

I have determined to have more fun and appreciate this all more. I am enjoying everything I can even if it's mind-numbing thesis work until 2:00am. So I suppose this is good. Maybe I will come to miss this arctic wasteland once I am out. It is after all MY arctic wasteland. It's the ugly duck of places. I say 'duck' because it may never be a swan but it still needs some love.

I shaved my head last night. IS VERY NICE!!!


Monday, January 29, 2007

YU SPAK MERI!!!

YU GAT MAUS GRAS!

HELLO?

HELLO? HELLO? HELLO? HELLO? HELLO?

Those were echoes.

I am back soon wankers.
Eat a butt!

Sunday, September 03, 2006

INDIGENOUS DESIGN

While some of the world enjoys the amenities, efficiency, and higher quality of life provided by design within a capitalist system of operation the rest of the world struggles to meet even their most basic needs. These areas, mostly within developing nations in the economic south are rarely considered recipients of design and largely neglected in the ethics of design. As we design our mass-produced, niche products for the economic north to be manufactured within the south, we also ship our waste, much of it toxic, to these same southern regions. It would be wrong to assume that such a result of capitalism playing itself out is purely the fault of the designer; it is largely accepted as a matter of pure consumer economics. Any user group requiring the cutting edge of design must pay for such, hence a lack of incentive for any design or manufacturing group to help those without the economic power.

Those without the means to satisfy their basic needs will inherently lack that economic power as time spent growing food, searching for water, or finding shelter is time not spent pursuing education or work. If the current system of production necessitated by a consumer base cannot provide for the developing world perhaps a designer free of such a system could. A designer could innovate using the materials, tools, and processes indigenous to struggling populations providing a self-sustainable and market-free development process. Instead of being the typical intermediary between user and the manufacturing process, the designer in these cases could take on the role of the educator, teaching his or her user group to manufacture their own products, based on the designer’s plan, with what they already have.

Development within the economic south has for the most part been a process of bringing international business into a poor nation to harvest natural resources or utilize a work force. This is seen to provide the nation with government funding and employment opportunities in exchange for which the international company may export its products at a price lower than it would have if it had remained in its country of origin. Paying a country for less than the value of commodities acquired is seen as morally acceptable because the people within these countries are considered impoverished and hence unable to meet their needs through monetary means, ignoring the actuality of any productive activity outside of the monetary economy. In much of the developing world indigenous populations providing for themselves find themselves robbed of their actual means of satisfying needs by the very forces of development intended to do so. Examples of such cases include environments so polluted by mining activity that indigenous populations can no longer grow food. Feminist writer Vandana Shiva draws a distinction between conceived poverty and real poverty which is brought about by what she calls “mal-development.”

A process of indigenous design could address problems unsolved by current mal-development by finding better methods to satisfy basic needs from within a population. This would not necessarily free an indigenous population from monetary impoverishment but would help to ensure survival in the face of radically changing social and natural environments.

CHUCK BROWN














I had the honor of playing the blues in G with the godfather of go-go on friday night. He was brilliant.
He kicked Matt's ass in pool too.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

FACE GOOP

Fa-A-a-A-a-ace Gooooop

And kyukes. Cheers Beautigon

Friday, July 28, 2006

STRANDED

Cellophane the Glass Man
Saint Serene I am
My eyes can bleed and my hands can see
a quest to feel a question
Live the paradox and forget all that
you once thought you were
You are not your ideas
You are so much more

The ocean sweeps away my fears
Circumstance gives way to what is pure and near
This is not the death I chose to live
.Stranded. Slip beside and I'll have nothing left to give

.Transparent. I am the
edgeless window
See through me to the edge of the soul
To the depth of what's gone and passed
I am not the inside of my head. I am invisible

I left my heart down by the crossroads
That heart betrays my weary words
.Burn. To yearn is too gnikcuf absurd
I'll die before my eyes betray my sight
With no words. Sleep in quiet tonight
Tommorow we burn again sweet Stranded

Monday, May 29, 2006

FINNESTERRE


My Dad hiked these mountains once.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

BIKNEM TUMBUNAS


These are my crazy parents. They are legendary. The first in my life to realize that there are more important things than building wealth. They gave up america and suburbia to go help people far away and we are all better off for it. I hope someday I can have such an impact.

UKARUMPA VILLAGE BRIDGE - 1994

UKARUMPA VILLAGE BRIDGE - 2002

UKARUMPA VILLAGE BRIDGE - 2006

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

TITLE

INTRO

NECK JOINT

ACOUSTIC CAVITY

LOW E


MIDDLE E

HIGH E

HIGH E 2

SUSTAIN

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

SP BOYS


Long live the SP Boys.

Rastamangi Bilong PNG

Sixti Androo Sixti

CHICA VERDE

She set a balloon free today
an awfulgreen butterfly thing
with a half broken wing
but it flew
and she rejoiced in its half-broken flight

Butterflies and Burning

The sun is always in my eyes
I don't know what I'm doing in this city
But I find solace in the fact that you don't
know what you're doing in yours either.

-Rach





Wednesday, February 15, 2006

GUITAR

GUITAR

GUITAR

GUITAR

Monday, February 06, 2006

ENDS

Here lies the third of eight goodbyes. I can't help mourning the people that have slipped through my fingers. Never again.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

EPIC

Saturday, January 28, 2006

RECORDING

Today is a big day. Today we are recording something real in a real studio with real gear. Soon we may have a real recording. Radiohead is readying my mind.

Iron Horse

Friday, January 27, 2006

PURITY

SUNK



Thursday, January 26, 2006

PHOTO

I will soon be posting my photography.

All film, no photoshop.

I appreciate critisism no matter how harsh.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

How does your world crash without your action? Do the infinite array of other connections pass you by and leave you wondering what the hell happened? Trust is having one area of your life that you don't have to worry about, that you don't have to perform to, that you can rest your weaknesses on. What happens when trust dies? The burden of earth's mess falls on you and only you. I have never felt so alone.

The last hope for the sanity of my conscience betrayed my conscience. My descisions once again bit me in the ass.

What is trust worth? Is it worth sacrificing a piece of your life to rid yourself of betrayal.

No, I'm going to pretend I was never betrayed because I know that it is not worth the sacrifice. No one need know that I am not ignorant.

But you. You are the tool of revenge. You are weakness. You are the thing I asked you to protect against. But I asked too much of you so the blame is on me.

So now I'll be the fool and see what good comes of it.

Monday, January 16, 2006

RAIN



It comes at you like a wall. It washes you to the core. So big it seems you could step between them. The rain falls angry on the tin roof. Sleepy roaring dreams.

Friday, December 16, 2005

CHAMP


Matt has always been a champ. A legend if you will. Someday we will strike a chord and it will carry a message a long way. I can think of no better person to complete the mission with. Here seen playing the last Glass show at Attitudes. Worst set ever but that didn't keep him from hopping around like a rabbit on crack.

If opposites collide without killing each other art can be born. We still have to get past the killing each other part.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

UNSUNG HEROS

Saturday, December 10, 2005

GREATEST

Beautiful and seen too much pain. The last of the legacy. How could anyone forget about her? What could be more important than her? So sick of excuses. So sick of chosen blindness. If I close my eyes I'm invisible. If I ignore problems they don't exist. I am the sum of my experiences, but she is so much more.



Wednesday, December 07, 2005

ON FALLING

There once was a bird named Jonny. Jonny was always late (Jonny played the drums). Every year Jonny and his friends would fly south for the winter. Jonny was always late to the meet up and his friends were getting pissed. One year all of the birds decided to meet at the old oak tree to fly south together. They told Jonny not to be late or else they would leave without him. Jonny said that of course he wouldn't be late this time. Jonny's alarm was set for 6:00AM but he hit the snooze twice and went back to sleep. Jonny's friends were waiting at the oak tree but didn't want to leave without him even though they said they were going to, so they all went and knocked on Jonny's nest and yelled his name. Jonny heard them but was convinced that he was too tired and so he went back to sleep. His friends decided that there was nothing more that they could do so they yelled at him to catch up further down and they left. Jonny finally got his lazy ass out of bed at 10:00, looked at his clock, and sqwacked "OH SHIT! THEY'VE LEFT WITHOUT ME!" He raced off of his nest and almost hit his head on the branch on the way out. He flew desperately to meet up with his friends. Jonny was making good time but it started getting colder and colder, a storm was brewing. Jonny was worried but told himself that it couldn't be that bad, that he was only a little bit late. It kept getting colder and Jonny got more and more scared, his wings were beginning to stiffen. Finally it got so cold that Jonny could no longer move his wings at all, they were frozen. Jonny plumetted to the ground spinning uncontrollably. He hit the ground with a thud still unable to move. As Jonny lay on the hard earth, his wings twisted into contortions, he thought to himself that "Things could not possibly ever in a million years get any worse than this." Right as he finished his thought a cow began walking towards him. The cow stepped over him and stopped. "No" Jonny thought as the cow emptied "Things definately are worse." Jonny hated himself as he sat in the pile of Bullshit, mostly of his own making, but slowly and surely Jonny was thawing. Eventually he was warm enough to move his wings again and he crawled out and continued flying south. His friends were at a diner 2 miles down the road waiting for the storm to pass, they thought he was an idiot. I suppose he was.

Moral: Sometimes the very worst shit is the shit that saves you.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

NAMES


I have never done anything to deserve such respect.

David

Monday, November 28, 2005

INDIE JAZZ

Indie Jazz is a personal recording project from the Seattle days. It's really bad so don't listen to it unless you are Keneqa or a derivative there of.

Those who strive to achieve a state of Keneqa will achieve the inner peace of rocking on the drums. They will surely engage in eternal struggle with the Wang opposition daring to impose decibel limits on good music but they will prevail in their hearts and minds, rocking the hell out anyway.

Stay strong fellow Keneqa.

Here is the link:
http://filebox.vt.edu/users/davechap/INDIEJAZZmp3.mp3

Monday, November 14, 2005

THE BLACK DOOR

God has put me down a path that I cannot see the end of. All of this thought endlessly and aimlessly put towards defining a future that can't be known. The rest devoted to the lost past. The timeless rare moments. How many instants live for themselves? Those are the only ones that I remember. How much lost time in between? The rest spent on striving to engineer a future moment. How could you possibly design a moment, and why would you want to? God shows us our way. These are the days that define us. Don't paint a picture, take a photo. The art is there you just have to find it.

This road is blue like jazz.

And school sucks hard.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

FORGET

When is it that pain brings good?

When the light hits the ugliest things in the right way they turn into art.

Why do we immediately lump the events in our lives into good and bad. Do we really think we have it figured out in the slightest. Is our plan that damn solid?

See the art in me, the rest is too superficial. The rest is a screen.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

THE GIFT


Dust in the wind.



A mist that is here for a moment and vanishes in an instant.

RANGOON


Aung San Suu Kyi: Burma's Hope for freedom.

1988: Student led uprising across Burma.

August 8th 1988: The 8-8-88 uprising. Millions of people gather in Rangoon to protest the BSPP government. Thousands of people die at the hands of the military dictatorship including women and children trying to flee to Thailand.

The Burmese marched toward firing soldiers and placed flowers in the barrels of the soldier's guns.

September 18th 1988: The government kills an ass ton more people. Six days later the National League for Democracy (NLD)is formed and led by Aung San Suu Kyi.

May 27 1990: Despite house arrest, the National Leage for Democracy wins the general election at 82 percent of the seats. The military junta refuses to accept the results of the election.

Rafto Human Rights Prize
Sakharov Prize (human rights prize of the European Parliament)
Awarded the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize

DROOL


Wouldn't that be great.

GLASS

A word about my work:
Although I should spend my days figuring out how to sell more and more useless injection-molded shit to ignorant americans, I feel less than inspired by Industrial Design. Design is an important and full practice, but so caught up in the capitalist trap that shortly it will fail to bring the good to the world that it could. Instead I spend an enormous amount of time looking for the sounds that strike the uncommon chords in people. I strive to pull the heartstrings in people that rarely get pulled.

I don't do a very good job of that.
Discipline is a Commodity




So then there came Glass. Glass is an effort to change everything about music from the crappy Emo bands churning out depressed kids like a factory to the Hip Hop whores that sell your lust for profit. Glass is an effort to replace the formula for art. A Glass show should be like a meditation with adrenaline pumping. For now we suck far to hard to accomplish anything like that but I've never found it so easy to keep a dream alive like this. For now, there's just more learning to do.

www.glassrock.net

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

GLIMPSE



A glimpse





God made that

Um

Trying to work this thing.