I still get some questions about Congostyle, the Zein-coined term for creative ghettoness.
here’s a perfect story that happened not ten minutes ago.
My friend and I were discussing how to create cheap and cool bookends for a bookcase. I came up with the idea of decorated bricks or cinder-blocks.
I was going to go to Home Depot but had an itching to work on them today, because I’m trying to procrastinate writing this silly 30-page term project that’s due tomorrow and of which I only have five pages written.
So I “found” two bricks lying around somewhere, and borrowed them. I painted them red, and when they’d dried after my jaunting around Pasadena for a few hours, I lay them down on my desk.
One of the things I’ve done this semester is picked up discarded photos at the photo lab and dried them and taken them home and used them in collages.
I happened to have two matching photos that were really pretty, and long, so they would be perfect on the bricks, and I cut them up and pasted them with gorilla glue on one side of each brick as so:
Gorilla Glue, as you arts and crafts freaks know, has to dry for one or two hours with pressure. Bricks being bricks, I thought that I could lay them on top of each other, picture facing picture so they could mutually apply the needed pressure.
one problem: I needed a plastic barrier to prevent them sticking to each other.
one congostyle solution: an old ziplock bag with pita crumbs inside, gleaned from the kitchen counter. I could have used a new bag, I could have emptied the pita chips, double NO. I just zipped up the bag, and put in between the bricks, crumbs included, at the bottom of the bag of course.
one word for this entire story: CONGOSTYLE. Any more questions?