For a little while I used to run the Billboard Liberation Front ‘s website (INB4: no, don’t even bother asking. I have no idea how to reach them anymore. The Old Man is long since retired, and I stopped talking to everyone else I knew through the BLF maybe 15 or 20 years ago. Maybe try contacting them through their site.)
Anyhow, funny story, for maybe 5 or 6 years after I stopped associating with them, I still was getting cc’ed on their website’s comment form submissions, which nobody paid any attention to anymore. In late 2007, a request came through from an arts organization in Belgium, asking if the BLF would come give a lecture at a “Culture Jamming” arts festival called “The Game Is Up”, thrown annually at the historic Vooruit Art Center in Ghent, that year’s theme being “Art For Sale”, a cross-eyed look at art and consumerism.
So, as a joke, more out of a boredom and needing a moment’s entertainment than anything else, I wrote back, saying while we’d love to help further the arts in a developing nation (yes, I led off by insulting them) but that we were a bunch of broke artists ourselves, so if they wanted us to come speak at their festival, they’d need to pay our airfare to Europe and back, provide us lodging while we were there, and, for a speaker’s fee, we would require a pint of fine Belgian ale. Just for a goof, I googled the festival for a couple of the names of people they’d already got to speak there, none of whom I’d ever heard of before, and said that I’d always idolized them, and all in all probably had a grin plastered across my face for the entire minute and a half I spent on it before forgetting about it.
Well, I had not stopped to think that they’re in Europe, where society actually funds things like arts festivals rather than making you tapdance for it. So imagine my surprise when we got another email from them a few weeks later, saying they had the budget to fly three of us from San Francisco to Ghent and back, would put us up for a week there, and would provide us each a pint of fine Belgian ale… they just needed to know where to send the check!
Fast forward a few months, and myself and two gentlemen who called themselves “Milton Rand Kalman” and “Blank DeCoverley” were winging our way to Europe for a week of hijinx, art, eating uitsmijters for breakfast, and to deliver a lecture we were in no way qualified to give, all on the Belgian government’s dime. I booked us to fly in and out of Schiphol Airport in the Netherlands, about an hour from Ghent, so we could see Amsterdam while we were in the neighborhood, too.
There were some amusingly awkward moments, such as when, almost immediately on our arrival, the festival organizer told me, “wait here!” and then disappeared for a few minutes, to return with an artist I’d pretended in my by-then-forgotten original reply to them to idolize, to give me what she obviously assumed and had planned to be an eagerly anticipated introduction to an artist apparently of some reknown but whose name I’d in truth picked at random off their website. I played it straight, and I think the general hubbub of a weekend night in the main lobby of an 11-day-long arts festival provided adequate cover for my momentary confusion.
Plus, besides the art and history and other benefits of a free trip to Europe, we got to hang out with outrageous theatrical anti-consumerism activist performer Rev. Billy of Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping , who was at the festival to give the main talk, right after ours on Saturday night of the festival, and who was, by the way, when sitting around a pub table with him, every bit as both friendly and jaw-droppingly hilarious to talk to as anyone who’s caught one of his shows might imagine. Actually he was funnier in private, in quiet conversation he made one or two screamingly funny but absolutely filthy offhand remarks, worthy of a George Carlin or a Lenny Bruce, as hilarious as anything I’d ever heard him say on stage but which never would have been at home in his act.
So: we got a week in Europe under made-up names, gave the talk in masks, the government of Belgium paid something like $3000 for it plus whatever our beautiful accommodations in the historic Faja Lobi guesthouse cost them, and nobody there ever even found out our names! Good times, for sure… If anybody from that event happens to run across this page, like the wonderful festival organizer Eva De Groot or the million other involved people whose names escape me after all this time but who helped make it otherwise indelibly memorable—hi guys, this is the real me. We had such a great time, thanks for it all!
Only upon writing this up now, 15 years later, I’ve found a post mentioning our Vooruit talk at “Art For Sale” on the long-running blog of Régine Debatty , who introduced us that night.
Our masks for the presentation.
Milton Rand Kalman. Note open mouth.
Coming into Ghent
Our driver said this is a warning about people reaching into your open windows and stealing your GPS while your car is stopped.
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My little room at the Faja Lobi Bed & Breakfast
My room could only be opened and closed by a skeleton key. It was a real high-security operation there.
Th canal around the corner from our B&B.
Th canal around the corner from our B&B.
The back of the Vooruit Arts Centre, where we gave our talk.
Milton in the Cafe at Vooruit Arts Centre. Great beer and free wireless, with no port 25 blocking!
Milton in the Cafe at Vooruit.
Milton & festival organizer Eva de Groot in the exhibition hall at Vooruit. A poster of one of our improvements dominated the wall at one end of the room.
Milton & festival organizer Eva de Groot in the exhibition hall
Ghent
Ghent
Ghent
Ghent, near the bed & breakfast.
The festival opening night musical act, the bizarre Harry Merry
Harry Merry's only dance move - the leftwards knee bend! He broke into this about once per song.
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Closing time in the performance hall at Vooruit
Ghent by night
Ghent by night
Ghent by night
Ghent by night
Ghent by night
Ghent by night
The view from my window at the Faja Lobi B&B on Vlaanderenstraat.
The view the other way from my window at the Bed & Breakfast.
Milton beside a strange door on Sint-Baaf's cathedral, across the street from our B&B
A strange door on Sint-Baaf's cathedral, across the street from our B&B
An ornately carved door on Sint-Baafs
Interior at Sint-Baafs
Intricately carved wooden statue in Sint-Baafs
Milton looks at a wall of paintings in Sint-Baafs
An evocative sculpture down in the crypt under Sint-Baafs
This creepy painting in the crypt beneath Sint-Baafs shows Christ bleeding into a fountain, and people gathered beneath it catching the blood in bowls and drinking it.
Our rooms in the B&B were up about 3 twisty, hidden staircases. You could hide from the Nazis in that place.
Cool figures dancing on rooftop spires
A big window at Sint-Niklaas Church
Sint-Niklaas Church was full of these statues of saints.
Sint-Niklaas Church
An ornately carved divider at Sint-Niklaas, with the elevated pipe organ in the background.
Patron Saint of the Musical Saw
An ornate lamppost on Sint-Michiels Bridge, Ghent
That's Sint-Baafs in the center. Our B&B was about a half-block further, on the right.
Zoom into this picture and check out the vainy hands and strange facial expression on this statue.
I think these are cigarettes.
Banner for the festival at Vooruit Arts Center, where we gave our lecture
Castle Gravensteen. This is a "fanciful" restoration of an original rundown historic structure that dates from 1180, redesigned around 1900 to make it seem more "medieval".
Inside Castle Gravensteen
The street below, shot through the distorted glass in Castle Gravensteen. Thanks to Milton for the idea.
The street below, shot through the distorted glass in the castle
The street below, shot through the distorted glass in the castle
Armor exhibited in Castle Gravensteen
DIsplay of daggers in Castle Gravensteen, with suit of armor in the background.
Daggers on display, Castle Gravensteen, Ghent.
Action shot of Milton ascending a staircase, Castle Gravensteen.
Roof of Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
Spectacular views of Ghent from the rooftop of Castle Gravensteen
Spectacular views of Ghent from the rooftop of Castle Gravensteen
Spectacular views of Ghent from the rooftop of Castle Gravensteen
A rooftop observation point, Castle Gravensteen
Spectacular views of Ghent from the rooftop of Castle Gravensteen
View from Castle Gravensteen
Rooftop view from Castle Gravensteen
Guillotine. The blade is original. Ugh.
Illustration from the torture room at Castle Gravensteen
Exhibit in the torture room at Castle Gravensteen
The torture room at Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
Milton Rand Kalman & harp, Castle Gravensteen
Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
interior, Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
The Castle Gravensteen courtyard
The latrine. Down this hole was an open three story drop to the canal. I wonder if this is original or part of early 20th century "restoration"?
The Castle Gravensteen courtyard
The Castle Gravensteen courtyard, with an underground building
The Castle Gravensteen courtyard
Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
The chapel at Castle Gravensteen.
Inside the chapel at Castle Gravensteen.
Inside the chapel at Castle Gravensteen.
Castle Gravensteen, Ghent
Looking down at the courtyard of Castle Gravensteen
Castle Gravensteen rooftop
Castle Gravensteen
Castle Gravensteen
Castle Gravensteen
A strange sculpture to find in the courtyard of a castle.
Castle Gravensteen interior looking out onto modern-day Ghent
A tantalizing store window to a fan of Belgian ales.
A typical sight in Ghent: two roads cross, and like 14 signs point in a million diffirent directions having nothing to do with the way the streets go.
This is not a bus stop. It's a urinal! Right on the street! This is something I saw a few times in Europe: open public acknowledgement that people have genitals and biological functions.
A rare moment of sun in Ghent - taken from my room window at the Faja Lobi B&B
A rare moment of sun in Ghent - taken from my window at the B&B
Still from my part of the lecture at Vooruit. In keeping with the faux-covert nature of the Billboard LIberation Front, we gave the talk under fictitious names and wore masks. Tell no one it was me. (Photo taken by Giannina Urmeneta Ottiker, courtesy of vooruit.be)
Still from my part of the lecture. (Photo taken by Giannina Urmeneta Ottiker, courtesy of vooruit.be)
The lonely, lonely woman working the snail stand at the carnival near Vooruit.
An ornate concession stand.
A building front full of disco balls. Why? I dunno.
The faces on this painting of St. Veronica blew me away. I wish I had written down who the artist was (and also that I had realized at the time that photography was allowed so I didn't have to sneak a sloppy shot with the camera poking out of my pocket.)
Eros. Another amazing facial expression.
I took a snapshot of the stage setup in the main ballroom at Vooruit Arts Center before our talk.
Blank De Coverley, Milton Rand Kalman, and me before giving our talk.
Blank sets the meeting agenda
Me & Milton during Blank's part of the lecture.
Me giving my part or the lecture. The hall was crowdedm although the front row or two were empty. Perhaps we shouldn't have opened with, "YOU WILL GET WET". Note the extra masks hidden behind stage set.
For my part of the lecture, I gave the history of the Billboard Liberation Front organization and a pictorial review of our past projects. Explaining how the Hillsdale Mall sign was subverted
Giving credit to some local kindred spirits
Blank discusses "market opportunities" during his segment of the talk.
Milton presents his how-to
Blank fields a question during the Q&A
Candid shot of Rev. Billy and Milton. I don't think they knew I was snapping this picture.
Our talk is advertised in the downstairs bar at Vooruit.
Our talk is advertised in the downstairs bar at Vooruit.
Leo & An-Katrien, some local activists who showed us a good time. Leo had considerable lefty street cred, having once worked as a bodyguard for Subcommondante Marcos. Fascinating kids, they showed us around the local scene and told us about adventures they'd had hitch-hiking around Iceland in winter.
Rev. Billy and Blank DeCoverley
The guys who owned the Faja Lobi B&B, where we stayed. They ran a cafe on the ground floor.
Our room keys at Faja Lobi.
Waiting for the cab to take us to the airport.
Waiting for the cab to take us to the airport.
There are a LOT of bicycles in Ghent.
How do people find their bicycles, when they leave them like this? They must ahve some sort of mating call, like pengiuns, or something.
Milton and Blank - NOW WITH BIONIC WAFFLE EATING ACTION!
Cool gargoyle on the roof of Ghent Station, photographed from the platform.
On the platform, Ghent station
Scratch one more thing off my life to-do list: Stand on a Central European railway platform in the rain. Check.
"And now, waffle, I shall finish you off. Do not beg for mercy. I have none."
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Having devoured the waffle, Blank plots his next snack attack.
Milton stares out at the rainswept landscape and wistfully remembers his own waffle.
On the train
Blank's next waffle conquest must wait until we reach the next station, as the train serves none. Drat!
Antwerpen-Centraal, Antwerp Central station
Antwerpen-Centraal station
Antwerp Central Station
Antwerpen-Centraal station
Antwerpen-Centraal station
Antwerpen-Centraal station
Antwerpen-Centraal station
Antwerpen-Centraal station
They had these crazy escalaters in Antwerp Central Station that went up, then levelled out and snaked over a landing in the middle, then went up again.
Antwerp, outside Central Station. We had some time between connecting trains, so we went out to have a look around.
Antwerp Central Station was covered in scaffolding, right up to the spire. So tantalizing... so tantalizing...
Antwerp looked considerably more cosmopolitan than Ghent.
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Antwerp Central Station from outside
Check out the outdoor chandeliers in this sidwalk cafe. The canopies above were rolled up, and the lit chandeliers were out in the rain.
Antwerp. Lots of diamond merchants right outside Central Station.
Inside Antwerp Central station
The mondo-vending machine. Everything but buttermilk!
The mondo-vending machine.
Antwerp Central station.
Here's that crazy escalator that ran over a landing.
I liked the grafitti on this train
Milton's facial expression very well sums up this unpleasant train ride from Antwerp to Amsterdam.
The lounge at the Amstel Botel, a ship anchored outside Amsterdam that had been converted to a hotel.
The view out my window from the Amstel Botel in Amsterdam, with my tiny room reflected in the glass
Sunrise reflected on a building outside my window from the Amstel Botel in Amsterdam
View out the window of my room in the Amstel Botel, Amsterdam
The lounge at the Botel. Note the crazy, Dali-esque divan thing at right. It took Milton and I about 20 minutes to find a comfortable position on that thing.
A submarine parked outside the Amstel Botel
View of the submarine and Amstel Botel
Amstel Botel, Amsterdam
Somebody took a boat out here to do grafitti!
The Botel from afar
Milton & Blank, all business on the ferry to downtown Amsterdam
Milton & Blank in the living room of the beautiful apartment on Brouwersgracht we rented for our stay in Amsterdam
The view of the canal out the front window of our Amsterdam apartment. I did not know before we arrived, Amsterdam has a more extensive canal system than Venice.
The living room, dining room, & kitchen area of our Amsterdam apartment
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Kitchen & dining area, Brouwersgracht apartment, Amsterdam.
Stairs up to the bedrooms and down to the street in our rental apartment on Brouwersgracht in Amsterdam
Our Amsterdam rental's little back rooftop patio, which was submerged
The spacious front bedroom upstairs in the Amsterdam apartment
The spacious front bedroom upstairs in the Amsterdam apartment
The upstairs hallway
Self portrait in the mirror of our Amsterdam apartment, wearing a fisherman's sweater my mom had brought me from Ireland.
Cheeze shop. Insert Monty Python joke here.
Amsterdam street scene
Amsterdam street scene
This unadorned sandwich looked plain & dry, and tasted absolutely great.
The smallest car I've ever seen! Is this thing allowed on the highway? A great big man looked at me funny when I took this picture through the doorway of the restaurant we were in; a moment later, he, his wife, and their dog piled into this car and drove away. Note also that because the streets are so narrow, the parking spaces are on the sidewalk.
Amsterdam canal and long boat.
Milton at work in the Brouwersgracht apartment, Amsterdam
Milton at work in the Brouwersgracht apartment, Amsterdam
The first afternoon in Amsterdam, the sun broke through the clouds for a short while.
Amsterdam canal view.
Amsterdam canal view at dusk.
A steeple with colorful details. Imagine being the guy who has to paint this!
Two completely different kinds of cyclists both blithely carrying passengers in dangerous positions.
Nice neon work
The flush button on the toilet in the apartment was sculpted with a drop of water carved into it, so it so it always looked like it was wet. It was like, "EWWWW, I don't want to touch that."
Milton's real name is Rick, so he needed a picture taken here. I think the neon face sort of looks like him.
Blank and Milton
They seem to do a lot of things more sensibly in Europe. The toilets have water-saving flush controls, the bus drivers make change, and the milk cartons have a gauge in the side to you can see how full they are. It all seems very civilized. As my laconic roomate Jim says, "It's almost as if they've had a few centuries to work on it."
Amsterdam canal scene
The smallest truck I've ever seen!
One of our favorite pastimes in Amsterdam: fiddling with maps. (In Ghent, maps were useless.)
Blank calls this his "Communist Leader pose".
Blank's "Communist Leader pose" is actually a practiced and steady cover for goosing Milton through the seat.
Everybody then looks away in embarrassment.
Milton seeks to subdue his private shame by looking for a sucking candy. Blank looks inwardly satisfied..
Blank on the tram, Amsterdam
Typical Amsterdam street.
Creepy gothic detail above a doorway: cherubs, skulls, musical instruments and a candle burning. Note the cherub sitting on the skull at right. What were these people trying to say when they put this on the street?
Milton wore his "Israeli Defense Forces" shirt to the Anne Frank house, but then spoke German to the ticket girl. I asked him to stop.
A pubic urinal beside the canal on Brouwersgracht. We walked by this thing about 4 times before we realized what it was. At left inside is a slab of concrete sticking up out of the ground, with a trough at the bottom. You pee on the slab and it runs down into the trough and into the canal. I suppose this is somehow better than just peeing in the canal.
Inside the public urinal. This is the slab you pee on, with trough at bottom. You've got to admire the elegance and simplicity of the design.
The view from my upstairs window in the apartment on Brouwersgracht.
Brouwersgracht at dusk.
Brouwersgracht at dusk.
Amsterdam night scene.
This is typical of my perception of Amsterdam: old-world elegance too-brightly lit, like a European Las Vegas.
Let me just dispel a certain myth right now.
Night view from my window in the apartment on Brouwersgracht, Amsterdam.
Night view from my window in the apartment on Brouwersgracht, Amsterdam.
Night view from my window in the apartment on Brouwersgracht, Amsterdam.
Night view from my window in the apartment on Brouwersgracht, Amsterdam.
Day view from my window, in the apartment on Brouwersgracht, Amsterdam.
Stairs down to the front door of the apartment on Brouwersgracht.
Breakfast "still life" on the last day.
The bill, and troublesome Euro coins.
The spigot in the tub in our Amsterdam apartment had a shower attachment that looked like a telephone.
A view of the front bedroom in the Amsterdam apartment.
Our rooftop patio
The wreckage of our vacation: Spa water, beer, a tea bag, American Spirits. (This was before we thew out the pot.)
This was the bike rental shopkeeper we rented our Amsterdam apartment from, and her dog. Any time anyone entered the shop, the dog would come to the top of the stairs, and WOULD NOT MOVE.
You talkin' to me? You talking to me?
Milton Rand Kalman in his native environs
Sign for Meditation center in Schiphol Airport
Our plane waits to take us away. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
Bonus photo, just for fun: The only direct evidence of my association with the BLF, a photo from a 2000 SF Chronicle article about the Billboard Liberation Front , in which the photographer managed to snap the shutter when I was 3/4 obscured by someone else… I didn’t even make the caption:
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