Mouth Breathers – The Bronx Mouth Breathers
There are many Duffy stories, and they are all good. A lot of them involve snow, wheels, soda pop, and a bunny suit. Some of them can only be mentioned in situations where no one will remember them. I will share a more orthodox one.
In addition to being an all-around awesome dude, Patrick “Duffy” De Armas is a Renaissance man. He does it all, and does it well. Currently he commits much of his time to his artistic endeavor, Electric Coffin. With a studio situated in the ultra-hip/sketchy Pioneer Square area of Seattle, Duffy’s work has already garnered much praise and attention from art connoisseurs, hipsters, Chileans, and wayfaring bums. His work, OMG pictures, musical selections, and peculiar videos can be found at his Purple Razors blog.
The anecdote that I will share takes place at one of his shows. Duffy, playing the cordial host, sidled up to a passerby taking in one of Duffy’s compositions. The stranger shook his head and said to Duffy, “I don’t know man. I am done with art.” Duffy inquired as to what the fellow meant.
“Well just between you and me, it seems like everyone calls themselves an ‘artist’ these days. I mean, no disrespect to Duffy, but this is dumb. Duffy is dumb. This isn’t art. A five-year-old could do this with some paint and a decent amount of boogers.” Duffy nodded his head, taking the offense calmly. He thanked the man for coming, and returned to the crowd with a grin. Why a grin? Because a five-year-old had made it with boogers. But the five-year-old was actually Duffy’s pet alien and had used the boogers of a brontosaurus. Duffy had accomplished what he wanted with the piece. By employing an extra-terrestrial and using prehistoric boogers, he had made his artistic statement: that the piece was both “Out of this world,” and “DINOmite.”
Duffy defies social classifications. He is an Arizonan that loves the snow. Hence, his selection of “Cell Mates” by The Bronx is true to his nature. Mariachi, punk, and sweet and clean enough to introduce to your grandmother. Just like Duffy. “Cell Mates” sounds a bit like Vampire Weekend when played on an old radio inside of a rusty pick-up truck rumbling down a Sonoran road. Except it would be Vampiro Fin De Semana, because when you listen to an old radio while in a pick-up truck in Mexico, everything will have a tint of mariachi.
“Cell Mates” by The Bronx
