Summary: For most, the name Mark Mothersbaugh conjures an image of men in strange hats and matching jumpsuits playing synthesizers with a robotic gusto. But before his time performing in the influential new wave band Devo, or his work as an acclaimed TV and film composer, Mothersbaugh had his sights set on the visual arts. Now, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Denver, Colorado is presenting a retrospective exhibition which blends the visual and the musical work of Mothersbaugh. In a conversation with Soundcheck host John Schaefer, Mothersbaugh shares his thoughts on the showcase, its accompanying book, Myopia, and his love for blurring the line between multimedia art and music. Below, view selections from Mothersbaugh's book, Myopia. Interview Highlights Mark Mothersbaugh, on the autobiographical roots of his exhibition's title: I made it through second grade without being able to see what a blackboard was. I knew where the door was because you could follow people and you would find it. Somehow I managed to make it to school every day, but it wasn't till the end of that school year that I got fitted with glasses. And within five minutes I walked out of this optometrist's shop and for the first time I saw clouds, and birds flying, and telephone wires and rooftops, and smoke coming out of chimneys, and the tops of trees. On developing the idea for Devo at Kent State after the 1970 shootings: Music took a big turn, it seemed like, right at that time. What came next was disco and corporate power rock, and both of them had politics that we weren't particularly enamored with. It seemed like all the Bob Dylan's of the world were gone. So we thought we were gonna be musical reporters and talk about the good news of de-evolution. On the origins of his hundreds of thousands of works of postcard art: It was back when people relied on the post-office for transmitting information. Now you just get garbage mostly, and bills. But if you sent a piece of art on a postcard to someone like Robert Indiana or Irene Dogmatic or Ant Farm, they would send you something back. A nobody could send out a piece of art to these people and sometimes they would send something back. I started saving them, and when Devo was travelling, that was a way I could keep doing visual things, write lyrics, and collect things on these pieces of paper. Now zoom ahead 40 years and there's 350 books that each have a 100 of these things.
