I can remember the first time I saw BIGFOOT. I was with my dad and we were at the Von Braun Civic Center. Now, I think how cool my dad is, not that he took me to see this larger than life truck, but that he did it in a sea full of good ole boys and rednecks with style and grace. My dad is larger than life and bigger than those petty situations.
But anyway, I remember feeling this sort of electricity all over me, sort like when someone scares the hell out of ya and you just about pee yourself. It seemed like every kid in the building was about to piss themselves in anticipation of this machines glorious roll of destruction. The sound is what got me. The size is one thing, I've never been one to brag on Texas, but i've dealt with big thing my whole life. It was just the engine and what it was capable of. The deafening grumble of power just did something to me. From then on, I don’t think I was ever the same.
The noise that an engine of this magnitude makes is one to me that seems pure in its nature and its function, animalistic, sophisticated and barbaric. I imagine this is what the nature of dinosaurs must have been and what they sounded like. The hellish roar of raw power is enough to stop your heart. It is truly amazing. This is what I think our art career is about.
The raw power or the will to take something so simple like a truck ,yet so complicated , that for some reason it seems more like the truth to me than anything out there, but over looked, because of what seems to be dumb down southern stereotypes. The truck is so powerful that it develops its own cult following and because of the complexed simplicity most of the intellectual art types can’t get it. I think some smarty asses have fell to realize that it took great minds to build these trucks to their car crushing status and that those mechanics are not just ass backwards uneducated people that know how to tinker a little better than others. I don’t think we are these artists that care or even need these long artist statements to explain how the hell we get down.
It’s simple...Who: TindelMichi, What: Two Fat Southern Boys, Where: Southern, Doing what: Paint. Hell a one line artist statement. Anyway…
Just making a quick comparison, John and I are these two big monster trucks on our glorious roll of destruction. Engines open and blaring, the cars under BIGFOOT are actually galleries under our wheels. The crowd yelling in the arena is actually the people who show up at our shows and make chit chat, small talk and show support. They are a vital part of the cult and the most influential and most meaningful at that. I would guess the sports announcers are the critics, they merely call it how they see it and you can’t be mad at that. So get your truck right. As I said before, there are some galleries under our big wheels and we are simply rolling over and around them unwilling to give up the 50% just to sit on your prestigious roster. At some point maybe we will park our trucks out front, walk in and strike a deal, maybe even hang a show. I guess until then, we will continue to do donuts around God’s green earth and keep THE BIG WHEELS TURNING.