Art rock
Bruce Morrill, now an assistant professor of visual communication design at Kent State, was among the first to experience what would become Devo. Morrill was an art student and had spent time in several local bands with Mothersbaugh while attending Kent State.
“The first time I got to meet Mark, I was trying out to replace his brother in a band,” Morrill says. “I could tell he could play. He was a talented guitar player, and he was very inventive. I wouldn’t call any of it flashy, but it was imaginative.”
Because of his past experience with Mothersbaugh, Morrill was invited over to jam one day with Casale. Morrill describes the sound as a little more normal than the futuristic brand of rock that was to come later. “It wasn’t anything like Devo,” Morrill says. Back then, Mothersbaugh and Casale were using mostly guitars, bass and Mothersbaugh’s Hammond B3 organ.
Mothersbaugh, Casale and Morrill all used the Davey Tree art studio on Water Street. One time Morrill Xeroxed Mothersbaugh’s face for one of his art pieces. Morrill remembers both Mothersbaugh and Casale sticking out from the crowd artistically. He says Mothersbaugh was highly regarded by the faculty for his talent and free-spirited approach, and Casale was conceptual, interested in confrontational art.
“The work (Mothersbaugh) was doing in high school was just amazing. The way he was raised, he wasn’t afraid to try anything,” Morrill says. “Jerry’s work stood out as pretty radical. He wasn’t afraid to stand out.”
From working at the studio, Casale and Mothersbaugh had seen each other’s works and began asking around about each other. Eventually the two met one night and hung out at one of the bars on Water Street.
“We had really similar aesthetics and ideas about art. Then we found out that we both played music, and we started applying our art concepts to music as well,” Casale says. “He had seen my stuff, and I had seen his. I didn’t know who he was, and he didn’t know who I was, but we kept wanting to meet each other because we kept doing things that were pissing everybody off.”
Similarly, Mothersbaugh remembers hearing some noise about Casale. “I had heard these stories about this wiseass in the English department that was writing acid porn,” Mothersbaugh says.
Together, the two had a knack for pushing people’s buttons with their art. “We were, you know, kind of like punk scientists or smart-asses that were like forerunners of graffiti or something,” Casale says.
Casale had a reputation in the art scene. He and a friend would attend art openings around campus and dress up for the occasion: Casale would come clad in a butcher’s jacket with a mask resembling Leatherface, holding an enema bag full of milk. His friend came dressed like an old Mexican wrestler.
“I would put him on a leash, and we would go to every art opening with all this bad art,” Casale says. “All these still-lifes, birds on a tree, crochet — horrible, uncreative stuff. I would point at each painting, and then he would hold his nose and pretend to pick his ass. He would suggest that the painting stunk, and then I would feed him milk as a reward.
“We would never last more than five minutes before campus security came and kicked us out. We were pretty reviled. People were just afraid we would show up at their event and ruin it.”
The Burr is produced by students at Kent State University twice per academic year.No part of The Burr may be reprinted without permission.