Tape two paper clips to the tail of an old disposable razor. Straighten two more and hang them perpendicular to the middle of the handle. String a bit of wire between one straightened clip and one of the clips at the end. Rest the razor atop a cup of salt water so that the straightened clips are immersed, and plug the two at the end into an electrical outlet. Voila–you’ve got a light for your smoke.
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Marc Fischer–one of Temporary Services’ three current members–has known Angelo since 1991, when he was studying at Carnegie Mellon in Pittsburgh. Angelo’s cell mate had shown him a copy of Fischer’s fanzine, Primary Concern, about art, punk, and politics, which Fischer had made available for free to prisoners. Angelo, then in his late 40s, sent the young man a letter and an intricate ballpoint-pen drawing of Roman soldiers torturing and killing Christian prisoners. Impressed, Fischer wrote back.
Angelo’s been drawing most of his life, says Fischer–“he probably found a crayon within a minute of being born.” He’s learned other things about Angelo over the years: that he was drafted in 1965 and served two years in Vietnam, that he’s fanatically interested in silent films and history, that his mother is dead and he hasn’t seen his father since he was a year old. He also knows Angelo’s real name, though he won’t reveal it or the name of the facility where he’s locked up. But he doesn’t know why Angelo’s in prison, and he doesn’t want to know.
Fischer, Bloom, and their other partner, Salem Collo-Julin, were so excited by the quantity and quality of the material that they decided to publish it in book form. They initially approached Anthony Elms, editor of WhiteWalls, for help finding a printer, but Elms liked the project so much he volunteered to publish the book himself. The resulting 128-page paperback retails for $12.
