You ever think about how many public restrooms you have utilized? Hundreds is the conservative guess. Nature’s call must be answered and contemporary America has made it staggeringly easy to find a place to relieve yourself. Now, of those hundreds of restrooms, how many are memorable? Think of all the hotels, Starbucks, highway rest stops, bars and the like and what do you remember about these bathrooms --- very little. That is because they are designed with form over function. The aesthetics involved in this type of design are of the sedative variety. The spacial relationships that we take for granted are neglected and doors bump up against doors in some type of American Standard prison. The waves of nausea are palpable as we yearn to escape the bleach and pine sol choking off the last vestiges of our humanity. That being said, anyone who ever visited CBGB’s remembers the bathroom. An astounding mixture of bioemissions, advertisements, flotsam and jetsam and unidentified substances. Like a Philadelphia Eagles fan or Rick Perry, the bathroom at CBGB had secured its reputation for wretchedness and had chosen to self consciously embrace it. That being said, there was something oddly comforting in its memorableness. The repulsiveness was a welcome relief from a culture of antiseptics. The whole endeavor made you one with your own piss and shit, a confluence of Freudian self loathing and the narcotic relief of toxins exiting the body. Basically, IMG is the CBGB’s bathroom.
MKM > IMG