JTF (just the facts): A total of 61 color photographs, framed in white and unmatted, and hung against wh1te walls in series of spaces on the second floor of the museum. The images were made between 1999 and 2020. (Installation shots below.)
icp were family
Comments/Context: Proximity, availability, and general grudging willingness to cooperate come together to make families the subject matter of many, many photographic projects, made by amateurs and master photographers alike. Simple documentation is where most of these projects start, and as a result, many family projects follow the contours of everyday life, like the snapshots in a family album.
The arrival of COVID-19 in 2020 signals the beginning of Act IV, and the isolations of lockdown momentarily separate the sparring parties. Forced family togetherness (and the absence of domestic help) beings Laub and her children into tighter proximity, but the issues with her parents only worsened, culminating in a poignantly estranged picture of the parents bringing her a cake and a mylar balloon for her birthday. In the image, the parents stand outside on the deck behind the glass door wearing their masks, the cake and balloon like peace offerings between warring factions; but the problems only worsen, both nationally and within her family, with the George Floyd killing and the ensuing protests that spring and summer.
The horrorcore hip-hop duo consisting of Violent J (Joseph Bruce) and Shaggy 2 Dope (Joseph Utsler) were the pinnacle performers in a five-hour, five-act showcase that also featured performances from Attila, Sylar, Cage and Lil Toenail, as well as Lyte and Ouija.
The duo arrived in front of its audience in large, gift-wrapped boxes, brought out by stagehands dressed as postal service workers while joyful, yet earie, carnival music played. After a few minutes, what appeared to be two audience members arrived on the stage and ripped off the wrapping paper, revealing Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope in clear boxes, as if they were action figures.
There are no official numbers for how many people identify as Juggalos, though the FBI's 2011 National Gang Threat Assessment reported that there were 1 million self-identifying Juggalos and Juggalettes.
This year, the Gathering was held from August 19 to 22. The Daily Beast reported that the festival was "slightly scaled-down" from previous years due to COVID-19, though writer-photographer Igor Smith cited Juggalos hugging as the primary activity he witnessed throughout the festival. "Jackass" member Steve-O and Chris Hansen of "To Catch a Predator" made appearances, and Vanilla Ice, Danny Brown, and Juggalo rapper Ouija Macc were among the performers.
Whether they are in fact the worst band in the whole world is hard to say; but they have certainly cultivated a tight-knit and dedicated band of followers in the Juggalos, who by some estimates number more than one million and many of whom are more devoted to the subculture than they are to the music. Almost every Juggalo I have encountered said that the feeling of family among other Juggalos saved their lives when they were in particularly dark places. Being around fellow fans demonstrated to these self-described outcasts that they were safe and among family, a transformative feeling for many who had not experienced that kind of love at home.
Juggalos genuinely and fiercely believe in the strength of family, coming together again and again at concert venues and campgrounds to reignite those connections. In the world at large, they may be ridiculed and harassed, but in the space of an ICP concert, they are surrounded by love and freedom.
With the weight placed in this trust and family dynamic, I expected that outsiders would not be made welcome. It felt like, perhaps, something you had to earn your way into. But my experience among Juggalos, listening to their stories, has made it clear that I was wrong. Within minutes of attending a major Juggalo event, a multi-day campout called Gathering of the Juggalos, strangers invited me to hang out, sharing their beer, and asked for me to sign their program book. They immediately made it clear that I was also now part of the family.
Intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy (ICP), characterized by pruritus in the second half of pregnancy, entails an increased risk to the fetus. This study was designed to determine the incidence and fetal complication rates in ICP, and to define groups at increased risk. In an prospective cohort study conducted between February 1, 1999, and January 31, 2002, all 45,485 pregnancies in a defined region of Sweden (Västra Götaland) were screened for ICP, defined as otherwise unexplained pruritus of pregnancy in combination with fasting serum bile acid levels > or = 10 micromol/L. Pruritus was reported by 937 (2.1%) women, and ICP was diagnosed in 693 (1.5%). Simple logistic regression analyses showed that the probability of fetal complications (spontaneous preterm deliveries, asphyxial events, and meconium staining of amniotic fluid, placenta, and membranes) increased by 1%-2% per additional micromol/L of serum bile acids. Complementary analyses showed that fetal complications did not arise until bile acid levels were > or = 40 micromol/L. Gallstone disease and a family history of ICP were significantly (P or = 40 micromol/L. No increase in fetal risk was detected in ICP patients with bile acid levels
While smallholder families across Guatemala and Honduras were still struggling with impacts of household earnings and food security due to COVID-19, Eta and Iota made everything break further apart. A recent survey made by our implementing partner, Hanns R. Neumann Stiftung (HRNS), showed that Hurricane Eta will additionally affect the already precarious food security circumstances and household infrastructure for families in rural communities. Over 58% of smallholders in Guatemala and Honduras reported that Eta will directly impact their access to food. Results and impacts will most likely get worse after Hurricane Iota.
Persons delivering this service are known as family partners. A family partner has experience as a caregiver of a youth with special needs. The family partner works closely with the care coordinator (for youth in ICC) to help the parent(s) or caregiver(s) of the youth by:
To people outside of the culture, the scene at Juggalo Day was an embarrassment at best, and dangerous at worst. The FBI currently classifies juggalos as a national gang. And after 26 years of releasing albums and going on international tours, ICP is just as divisive today as they were when the now-defunct Blender magazine named them the worst band in history. Even though the juggalo family has never been bigger or stronger, there is little appreciation for the artistry behind their music or the supportive nature of the culture they created. And so, they soldier on, making music for their hordes of obsessed fans outside of the mainstream.
However, I wasn't in the thralls of the sticky bacchanalia at Juggalo Day. I was backstage with ICP's small (by rap standards) entourage of family and friends. And from there, the scene didn't look like a bunch of rabid fans hailing dufuses who extol the pleasures of soda pop. Instead, it looked like clockwork. Roadies moved on and off the stage in synchronized fashion, covering hot lights from soda splashes and wheeling in new props and effects. Backup clowns tapped in and tapped out, like tag-team wrestlers, all based on a strict, timed script. It was like these Midwestern knuckleheads were putting on a twisted version of Miss Saigon.
That's a weird sentiment to come from a group known for making "inappropriate" music so offensive they were dropped from their second major record label contract in the late 90s. But then again, I've always known that there was more to ICP than what meets the eye, which is why I made my way to Detroit, the birthplace of the juggalo, to uncover how they've become one of pop culture's most reviled and successful phenomena.
They related to each other because they were so damn poor and didn't have real father figures in the home. The lack of male presence in the house especially affected Shaggy, who fell into drinking and drug use at an early age partially because there was no one around strong enough to stop him.
Making something out of nothing would become an essential theme of ICP's music and the culture around it. Eventually, they'd go on to write songs about Payless shoes as if they were Margiela sneakers and pen love odes to overweight women like they were Rihanna. "A lot of fat chicks appreciated that," Violent J joked to me, but he sees ICP's mission as a very serious one. "There are a lot of juggalos out there who grew up by themselves in those conditions, and it was hard," he said. "It wasn't easy until they discovered [ICP]."
Every juggalo I met at Juggalo Day echoed this statement. When they're telling their stories of first identifying as a juggalo, they sound like gay men talking about coming out of the closet. You don't become a Juggalo; you're born one. Before ICP made them aware that they were part of the juggalo family, they felt like outcasts. They were too fat, too ugly, and too poor to even hang with the punks or the comic-book nerds. Juggalo culture gave them an identity, while also transforming the stigmas of their scrub-life into something to be proud of. Or, as Violent J put it, "Now everybody's a floob."
The earliest incarnation of the Inner City Posse mainly rapped about goofing off. It wasn't until Violent J and Shaggy heard the Houston, Texas, rap group the Geto Boys, in the late 80s, that they got interested in making music that was equally inspired by both gangster shit and horror films. By the early 90s, many Detroit rappers were penning rhymes about street life, so everybody on the scene started to develop gimmicks to make a name for themselves. Kid Rock dressed as a cowboy. Esham said he worshiped Satan. And ICP painted their faces like clowns. 2ff7e9595c
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