Bonus Arts DEVO from the archives.

Arts DEVO is still out.

Arts DEVO is still out.

Since Arts DEVO is still on vacation, and since it has been exactly 4.5 years since his column first appeared in the CN&R, please enjoy this reprinted collage of some of his favorite moments:

ART, THY NAME IS MINE: I should’ve been named Art. I totally would have called this column “Art on Art” or just “It’s Art!” My grandpa is an Art: Arthur Wallace Woodhouse. His son (my uncle) is Art: Arthur Craig Woodhouse. His son is Art: Arthur Jacob Woodhouse. I was the first born of my generation in my family, but since my mom wasn’t a dude, I (and every other guy I grew up with) got named after a movie with Argonauts.—Aug. 10, 2006

… and so Arts DEVOté now moves over into the big boy’s chair and trims down to the lean and clean Arts DEVO. It feels good. No more superfluous “té” adding snobby affectation to an otherwise kick-ass DEVO homage.—Oct. 2, 2008

Poodle butt.—Feb. 5, 2009

THE CAMERONIAN LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD GOES TO … This is so embarrassing. It’s like two women showing up in the same dress at the awards show. Only, instead of it being two women, it’s actually two awards shows, and even though they both look stunning, one of them is going home early, mascara smeared, with a broken pump to go along with a broken heart. What am I trying to say? There’s another CAMMIES on this pale blue dot! On the other side of the world, those rubber-tree-tapping, South China Sea-hugging, acronym-stealing Malaysians have just announced the nominees for the Cameronian Arts Awards. Damn you, Boh Cameronian Tea and your sponsorship support of the theater, music and dance performing arts of Malaysia!—March 5, 2009

FLAMING! … oh, and flames—lots and lots of flames. Ninety percent of all my doodles end up on fire, in fact. Actually, flames are the one thing I can kind of draw. I should look into being a niche tattoo artist or start painting cars.—May 28, 2009

“Hey, Paris, I’m Jason. We should hang.”—June 4, 2009

All I care about is the fact that for one chubby-faced, 13-year-old white guy in Redding who wanted more than anything to stand out in some way, Michael Jackson was like magic.—July 2, 2009

SONIC DEATH: I am, as usual, the biggest hypocrite. I am not any sort of groove-junky, but when it comes to subjecting myself to prolonged bouts of skull-splitting distortion and sustained feedback, I’m as much of a drone as any Deadhead, blues jammer or raver. It’s true. As much as I bag on others’ jamming, I am a huge fan of the noise jam—from the Velvet Underground’s art experiments to the de-tuned spectacle of Sonic Youth. Even a shitty garage band can win me over if they end their set humping their amps with their guitars, making everyone plug their ears.—Aug. 6, 2009

Best e-mail: “Hello, my name is RayRay a singer/songwriter. I graduated from Corning High School in 1985. I have an album called CaLi Lovin, it’s baby makin’ music.” (Note to local bands: Using “baby makin’ music” in an e-mail is the surest way to get a response from your local arts editor.)—Sept. 4, 2009

Back in the ’90s, you couldn’t throw a Hacky Sack in Chico without knocking the bong off a jam band’s amplifier.—March 11, 2010

To cats, dogs are total douchebags.—Aug. 19, 2010