Steve Heller lives in the Hudson Valley off Route 28, and creates sculpture and furniture from some unlikely materials, namely pieces of old cars and wonderfully twisted wood. I learned about Heller from the book Weird New York, which lists some of the various oddities in New York State and is all kinds of awesome, and is also where I learned about Rosemary's Texas Taco in Patterson.
Anyway, Steve Heller created the pieces seen here. The first one is a side table made from a maple burl. A burl is one of those lumpy things that occur on trees sometimes due to the wood grain growing irregularly (according to Wikipedia). Instead of avoiding these growths, Heller uses them to create furniture like this, which reminds people that trees are living things with bumps and irregularities like people, not simply smooth material with which to build. A table like this serves as a reminder that it was once alive.
He also makes large scale metal sculpture like this metal bird out of scrap. This one is called the Ostrichosaurus, and they seem to stand around his property and offer their input on things. These are purely aesthetic, but still retain the general theme of Heller's work, which is the reuse of items that would otherwise be considered unusable or undesirable.
The other material Heller uses are pieces of vintage cars, creating kitschy but functional home products. The front end of a 1957 Cadillac, for example, becomes a bar with a full set of shelving in the back for storage. The head- and taillights of a 1938 Packard become a "rocket lamp," and the hood of another car (whose identity I couldn't find on the site) becomes the lid of a red cedar chest. I would guess that things like this aren't for everyone, given their bulk and their general loudness, but they're pretty cool novelty pieces. His wooden furniture, which ranges from full-sized dining room tables to small mirrors, are a little more accessible and likely work better in a wider range of homes.
I have not been up to see Heller's place in person, although I'd like to and it would be fairly easy for me to drive up there. If I ever go, I'll be sure to take pictures.
It's that time again--the shortest day of the year (in the Northern Hemisphere, at least, which is where I live), and time to appreciate the darkness and the coming light.
So to celebrate, here's a watercolor of me and some bony crows of winter enjoying the cold. I like the winter. I like all seasons, in fact, and I think it's kind of weird when people say they don't like a certain season. First of all, disliking a season seems pointless, because there's nothing you can do about it (except contribute to the greenhouse effect, I guess). Then there's the fact that I find the change of seasons refreshing, and I think I would get really bored if there were only one or two seasons. Four is a nice amount. Just when you're getting tired of one, it changes. When you're tired of the heat, summer's over and it's autumn. When you're tired of the cold, it's spring. And when you're tired of the changeable weather, it becomes either consistently hot or consistently cold. Right now it's cold and dark, and you can see all the lights for miles thanks to the relative clarity of cold air. And there are cookies.
Also just for fun here's a picture of Zooey Deschanel, (whose name I never know to pronounce "Zoh-ee" or "Zu-ee"), in all her horrifying glory. Seriously, lady creeps the shit out of me. I think it's her enormous, icy, soulless eyes and the fact that in every photo I see of her, she seems to be saying, "Boop!" while thinking about the inevitable invasion by her alien compatriots.
Plus I hate it when actors only play one type of role. I just want to see her play like a crack dealer or a ruthless assassin. Just once. Please?
It was apparently a time for re-doing 
things. Sometimes spending some time apart from a piece of work allows you to see more clearly the problem areas, and then you can go back in and make the necessary adjustments. First up was Caligula Rape Face and his non PC title. Which is still the same, mind you. The original image, which I've uploaded here, was completed some time last summer (I think), and I was only partially pleased with it. But after spending so much time together, I couldn't think critically about it. So recently I gave him some major reconstructive surgery and I'm liking how he turned out. I fixed the face to better resemble the person it's based on, added detail to the face and hand, made the hair fluffier and added a yellow color, and made the body stand out more by adding white and blue glazes to the preexisting pink ones. I also fancied up his cross necklace a bit, and changed the bird skull into a rabbit skull. And of course I added MOAR glitter and some cute little pink heart sequins to the bottom. And yes, I'm still using Martha. I'm really happy with the face now, and the original looks totally crappy by comparison. This is also the first oil painting I've (re)completed in a while, which is a nice feeling. The next image isn't so much a re-do as a different version of a sketch. The original Sepsis, Sugarplums and Blood is a simple pencil sketch from my sketchbook (there's my curly little handwriting at the bottom), and was drawn after a weird night with some friends. I later developed it into a water media piece, using watercolor, ink, watercolor pencil and gouache on Arches paper. I didn't originally intend for them to have neon hair like that, but I like how it turned out. Also, I once did have purple hair like that. What I like about the two of these when seen side by side is the facial expressions, which are all different, but equally likeable. Each picture communicates a distinct mood, with the pencil sketch being somewhat sadder and more nihilistic (which was kind of how I was feeling after said night with friends), and the water media one is happier. I also thought the fly on the orange-haired one was a nice addition. That was Beast Boy's idea.
The following was taken from a journal entry, also called "I Hate Ponies," I posted to my deviantART account in a fit of gleeful rage. I was sifting through the front few pages of the site, which is a feat in itself, and getting more and more grossed out by the My Little Pony phenomenon. There's all kinds of creepy pny-themed shit out there. Most of it is fairly innocuous (though still weird and gag-inducing), showing happy, pastel-colored ponies doing anthropomorphic pony things. Fanart is lame, but whatever. Then I came across this image.
Seriously. What the fuck is this. It was created by this fucking creepy weirdo, who might have some artistic talent if they weren't so icky. I mean seriously. What the fuck. And yeah, I shamelessly ripped it off because whoever creates fucked-up pink pony girls deserves it.
It prompted me to write the following:
Okay, so what the hell is the appeal of the newest My Little Ponies series?
On the surface, I get it. It's got bright colors and some trippy animation that appeals to small children and stoned adults. Fine. That's great. When I was little, I fucking loved My Little Ponies. I had like 8,000 plastic ponies in various sugary colors that lived on my dresser, and they all had distinct names and personalities and had all sorts of adventures. I also did not watch the original animated series, which allowed me a certain freedom in their character conception. So yeah, I get it. Rainbow ponies are awesome. When you're six.
I also understand, to a certain extent, why people like to make art referencing their favorite cartoon characters. I'm not much into creating outright fan art (because, you know, I have my own ideas), but I get it that people are inspired by media that appeals to them. But I don't understand the fascination that compels people to dedicate SO much time to creating pony art. Like what the ponies would look like if they were humans (Spoiler alert! They have huge tits!) What REALLY creeps me out though are the images of sexy ponies, where little, brightly colored horses are put into sexual positions and giving the "come hither" look. That's fucking creepy. They're fucking ponies. Ponies. That's sick, bro(ny).
Also? To be perfectly honest? The cartoon show is crap. It's not funny, it's not well written, it's not anything but a bunch of anthropomorphized ponies with shrill voices delivering heavy-handed (hoofed?) life lessons. I got about four minutes into one episode and I was like, "That's enough of that." And this is coming from someone who waxes philosophical about 12 Oz. Mouse. Now, I understand that everyone likes different things, and that's what makes us a beautiful rainbow of humanity and all that shit, but I just don't understand why this franchise has such a dedicated and frankly downright creepy following. I think it's creepy when people create sexual-fantasy-esque images of, say, anime characters, but at least those are humans, or at least humanoids. That makes sense to me. Why the fuck are you drawing Moonlight Buttermoose or whatever the fuck laid out on a bed with her ass in the air? What the fuck is wrong with you?
For the record, and despite the title of this entry, I don't actually hate ponies. Not real ponies, anyway. I spent a summer at a farm camp when I was seven or eight in the company of a 45-year-old pony (if you don't know, that's REALLY OLD in pony years) named Checkers. Checkers was pretty awesome. He was all gray in the face and ambled around and munched on things and was very friendly towards everyone. I'm only sorry that Checkers' memory is being tainted by candy-colored zoophiles. Fuck you guys.
I really like Kidrobot. They are, I know, a complete waste of money in reality, and do nothing but add to the clutter on my top shelf. But I love them. I love that they send me free keychains with my order and I love the anticipation of a blind box purchase.
So here are some of the do-it-yourself models they offer. The one on the left is a Rooz model, and is some kind of mystical forest spirit. The one on the right is a Trikky model, and is an intergalactic graffiti artist. They go very nicely together, and I like to think they have many adventures. I determined their personae by the accessories they came with--a stick (Rooz, seen here), and a spray paint can mounted on a stick (Trikky, not shown because it gets in the way of its face).
Everything done with markers, Munnyworld, Prismacolor, and Sakura Microns. Figures are vinyl.
Actually, I think this picture is really nice. I like it a lot. I'm calling it Rabbit Eater II, and I have a few more rabbit eaters planned. The first official Rabbit Eater can be seen here, but I think that the original concept actually dates back to the Woods series, with images of my rather toothy significant other. In a way, I think it hearkens back to the Woods series very much, with the branch patterning and the coloration. Here he's looking a bit blonder, and he's thoroughly enjoying his meal of rabbit. The idea of him eating rabbits stems from his penchant for chasing rabbits in the yard. Really. This was done with the usual mix of watercolor pencils, watercolors, gouache, and some inks on Arches paper (the most awesome paper ever that I got on sale for added awesomeness). The blood was fun to paint. Blood usually is.
This brings me, however, to something that's been bothering me lately. For the record, I really like this painting. I think it came out really nicely in terms of technique and how it captures the subject, and I therefore think it's a nice picture.
But that's apparently not the case.
When my mom saw this, she was quite vocal about the gore, and complained that it was "not nice." I'm like, yeah, Mom, biting the head off a rabbit usually isn't. (Our dog, as a side note, would disagree, as one of her favorite hobbies is snapping the necks of the bunnies that live in our yard.) This isn't the first time she's complained that the subject matter of my work isn't "nice," but rather "creepy," or "disturbing." Confounding this was the incident where my grandmother (my mother's mother) found an unfinished piece of a skullhead character, and basically said, "Why? Why would you make something so UGLY? Why can't you make something NICE? Art is supposed to INSPIRE." I was like, thanks, Nanna, you think my work is ugly, that's awesome. Luckily for both of us I intercepted her before she found Rabbit Eater II here.
But this is what bothers me. For one thing, art is supposed to cause a reaction in the viewer. It's supposed to make you feel something on a visceral level. It doesn't matter if the reaction is one of adoration or repugnance, it's supposed to cause a reaction. When my grandmother said that art was supposed to inspire, she was absolutely right, but what she didn't realize was that my unfinished skullhead had done just that; it inspired in her a strong reaction. Maybe not the reaction she wanted, but a reaction nonetheless. Simply looking at something and thinking, oh, that's pretty, isn't enough. You won't remember something you think is merely good-looking on a cosmetic level because it offers no real stimulus.
The other part of this is that I can't help but feel insulted by comments like these. Not because I need constant praise or that I want everyone to like everything I make, but rather on a deeper level. I don't always make "nice" images because the things that go through my head aren't always nice. They have to do with anger, fear, hatred, selfishness, and sadness sometimes, because these are things we all have to deal with on a daily basis. The things I think about are not always nice things, but they are real things, and they are worthy of exploration. To me, demanding that I only create "nice" imagery is like telling me that the less pleasant aspects of my psyche are not worth recognizing. It also suggests that my art is solely for the benefit of others, and not for myself. I understand that this is likely not the intent of my mom or grandmother, but that's how it feels. Making a less-than-nice image is cathartic, it helps me come to terms with the darker and scarier aspects of myself, and comes from a deep and intimate place. I can't help but feel that by deriding these pieces, they are deriding parts of me. And that kind of hurts.
I think that it's easy to want someone to always create "nice" images because that seems to communicate that the creator of those images is always happy. And of course we want our loved ones to be happy for the majority of the time. But you can't be happy without being unhappy. You need both, and we all need to accept the less-than-nice aspects of one another, because those are the aspects that make us human. Being able to recognize and express our own dark sides, through art or in other constructive ways, takes enormous strength, and makes us better people in the long run. Instead of demanding nicety, we should celebrate the not-so-nice, because it is just as important.
While rummaging around in an antique shop in Cold Spring, NY (which by the way has about 10,000 antique shops, but this was the only good one), I found a pile of old photographs going for 25 cents apiece. I bought 25 of them, and talked the woman down to $5 for the lot. Some of them are nice the way they are, and I think I'll just mount them on some nice paper, but some, like these, seemed to need some embellishment.
Here are three of the decorated ones. They are collaged mainly with tracing paper that has been colored with pencils, as well as cut paper, and I've used ink, lead pencil and pen as well. In order, they're called Garden, 1945, and Wonder. I did not label 1945; it came that way. Wonder is my favorite so far, as I feel it really captures what I think of when I think of 1950s America, full of youth and hope and earnestness, but with this undercurrent of fear and impending doom. Wonder is sort of a child's idea of war and widespread destruction as something far away, almost like a fairy tale, romanticized in movies and television and abated in the adult world by those romanticized accounts, and by the idea of being righteous and wholesome. While the kid is thinking about war, it's clear that that kid is still innocent to its realities, but the point is that the society prefers to think of war as a fantasy.
The photos are images of various families, like the people seen in the first and third photo here. I have a few of the woman in Garden, one of which had been hand colored. There are also a few that appear to be photos of someone's WWII combat tour, a mountain, random awkward snapshots of babies and girls and families, and a very faded and weird-feeling nineteenth century group portrait. I would guess that they range in time, excluding the one from the 1800s, from the 1920s through the early 1960s. The woman at the shop told me that most came from a particular estate, and that she knew some information about the woman whose estate it was. I like to think this woman is the woman seen in the first photo here, but there's no evidence for that.
They were someone's memories at one time, but their original meaning has been lost, I suppose. All that's left of what they used to be is the image itself, without further context; all we can understand about them is what we see, and of course what we bring to them, because we are lacking any other information. All you can do is look at them and react emotionally, since that's all you have. And that's what I did here, essentially. I attempted to capture visually the feeling that each photo gave me. Garden is a family blooming out of the snow (see the dog at the far right, just next to the woman's shoulder), 1945 is a summer after a conflict, and Wonder is a child's brightly-colored imaginings about the world at large.
I was also pleased at the preexisting hoodie these pictures gave me.
This is the first larger-scale oil painting I've completed in a while, thanks to things like working and being a semi-responsible semi-adult. But here it is, 34 X 40 inches, oil on canvas. Its name is Bloodgood. Why? I was watching an extremely stupid game show and the contestant's last name was Bloodgood (she was not smarter than a fifth grader, FYI), and I thought it was a good name--far better in fact, than this particular woman deserved--and this was the image that sprang to mind when I thought about it. Strange how things work out.
It's far more graphic than I usually work, which comes with its own set of difficulties, like keeping lines and color areas clean and clear and sharp, and using rulers to make sure lines are straight and match up properly. Creating the large background areas was also a challenge, as the color had to remain consistent. The pattern shapes were made using a stencil.
I'm happy with the result, and especially with the lollipop trees to the left, there. Usually, I have the image of the completed painting in my mind from the outset, and I work until I reach that image. Bloodgood was one of those paintings that worked out very easily, coming to its conclusion without much stress.
Let me tell you about my camera. It's a good camera, and can do a lot of cool things, including taking large, hi-res pictures that are freaking awesome. My mom bought me the camera, and I'm eternally grateful.
But my camera is also a total bitch, and its screen likes to freak out for periods of time, allowing me to see nothing but a flat gray* space with a lighter gray vertical bar running through it. While this is happening, however, the camera still captures images. I just can't see them.
This was happening when I took this picture of this image, which I sent to the ever-fabulous Lolita Agogo, who was kind enough to send me some of her business cards. Now that she's received it, I can post it to teh Interwebz without ruining any surprises.
So here's a charming skullhead!
*To me, "gray" and "grey" are two different colors. Gray-with-an-a is a cooler gray, with blue or purple undertones, like the grays seen in this image. Grey-with-an-e, on the other hand, is a warmer color, with yellow or brown undertones. Why? I couldn't tell you.
Everyone loves the Internet. It's full of totally useless information and .gifs that are hilarious at four in the morning when you're drunk, but at no other time.
I've been a member of deviantART for a while now, and while it requires sifting through a considerable amount of questionable images (anime characters in compromising positions, naked camwhores, etc.), there is actually a wealth of amazing artists to be found there. Here are some of my favorites. There are plenty of others who I love, but these are the ones who stand out to me.
From the top:
First up is Amanda Breeding, known as PaWn861, who creates delightfully creepy, beautifully colored images with markers. This image, called Skull, is actually one that I own, as Amanda and I did an art trade a little while ago. Her images are graphic and delicate at the same time, and there are always little details that keep you looking.
Next is LolitaAgogo, who besides being an extremely talented painter is a total darling. Sometimes dA censors her pieces, like this one, called Deepest Darkest, because OMFGWTFBBQ a penis, so you can see her unedited work on her website. Her work is darkly enchanting, delicate and dreamlike, each one a gem. Did I mention she also loves cats?
Then we have Basil Arnould Price, known as tiamatrouge in the dA-verse. Still only in high school, Basil is an extremely intelligent and perceptive person, he enjoys Twin Peaks and creates striking compositions digitally, incorporating intricate patterns and beautiful human forms. This is a poster he created for his school's production of Macbeth, in which he is playing the part of Banquo. Check out his Tumblr as well.
Up next is inkylinkyboooo, whose art is so good it makes up for having to remember how many o's she uses in her screenname. Inky is from Denmark, and holds the rare prestige of being able to create Naruto-themed art that doesn't make the flesh crawl. This one's called Hudda, who is I think Team Fortress 2-themed.
Next is Owlform by ursulav, also known as Ursula Vernon, who is a writer and illustrator with a great sense of humor that shines through her whimsical and often slightly snarky work.
Next is Viv-Leoni, who is now mainly active on Flickr. His name is Lorenzo and he's a charming Italian photographer who uses only pre-1980s photographic equipment and travels around taking sensitive pictures that capture the soul of his subjects. This is a shot of the Cloud Gate in Chicago, which is all weird and donut-y. There's another shot of it here.
Then we have another Italian artist, Eva di Martino, known as PureBlackLove both on her website and dA account. and who is an exceptionally talented makeup artist, transforming herself into a whole cast of fantastical characters. Here we see her as Adam, her male counterpart (Adam and Eva, get it?). She also has the best nose that a person could possibly have. It's seriously an excellent nose.
Last but not least is Lindsay Campbell of Canada, who made these sweet little piggies. Her work deals with animals a lot, and while their faces are unmistakeably adorable, they often belie darker, heavier themes, but all while remaining innocent and delicate. She also has a website full of buyable pieces, and she makes hand-painted clothing, too!
So here's another Trash item that was supposed to have a mate that I never got around to finishing. It's full of Martha Stewart glitter and religious imagery and general debauchery. If I don't upload it now it'll never get uploaded, so here you go.
This is Caligula Rape Face. At least, that's been its working title for a while now. It's not terribly politically correct of me, is it? I'll often come up with shitty names for paintings while I'm working on them, usually out of sheer annoyance, and they either will or won't stick after the painting process is complete. This one stuck, perhaps unfortunately. I don't know what to tell you.
Anyway, this is a stand-oil painting made with like an entire tube of alizarin crimson and Martha Stewart glitter in Tourmaline (which is a mineral and actually comes in a variety of colors, but Martha is referencing the dark pink kind, I guess). Collaged into the top corners are Jesus, left, from the Godescalc Lectionary, and Shiva.
You'll notice that the figure, which was derived from a photograph, is wearing pearls. This painting taught me something: painting pearls is annoying. The bird skull, however, was a lot of fun. On the whole, the painting, part of the underrepresented Trash body, is about holy debauchery and general sacrilege.
I don't know how much I like this painting really, and there's an off chance that I may return to work on it, making improvements here and there, refining it a bit, but I felt for honesty's sake that its current form should be shown. Maybe one day I'll even get around to finishing its partner painting. Stranger things could happen.
I sent these three mini-works off to Washington state for the lovely Amanda B., who was kind enough to send me some of her beautiful work months and months and months ago. I finally got around to reciprocating, and sent her these.
They're little, watercolor, gouache, ink and pencil, the usual combination, and I like them. You can even see my little signature at the bottom.
There's another art trade out there for SOMEONE, but I'm not posting it because I don't want to ruin anyone's surprise.
I was planning on uploading these images only after the series was complete, but it's looking less and less likely that that will ever happen, 
so here they are.
These 6X12 inch paintings were originally intended to be a trashy, pinup take on the four horsemen of the apocalypse (I was thinking of calling the series The Four Bitches of the Apocalypse), but I never finished War; she's currently languishing under the couch in my basement/studio next to a bag of staples. Here, however, are Famine, Pestilence and Death, revamped and looking hot.
I was heavily influenced by Tara McPherson and the lowbrow artists at the time, and so we have a lot of bright, bubblegum colors and retro, cartoony themes going on, as well as a heavy helping of the macabre.
In addition, we have some of my recurring themes. Pestilence is an Exterminator, breathing out noxious fumes, exterminating people instead of bugs. This image has actually become a larger piece that looks very similar, only with ladybugs, and is currently in progress. Death is a Skullhead, which is only appropriate, and I've updated her apparatus by replacing the traditional scythe with a .44 Magnum--the Dirty Harry gun. It was my first time painting a gun and it was actually pretty fun. She also kind of looks like me. Famine is really the only all-original character here, and she's sort of a perky college girl gone bad. I used the concept of bulimia and eating disorders to represent famine, a sort of modern look at the way famine manifests in societies like ours.
These paintings also have the unique feature of having the sides of the canvas painted--the part of the fabric that folds around the stretcher bars--though you can't see it here. Some artists do this all the time, but I typically don't. On the practical side, it makes handling and storing the wet paintings very difficult, and I also feel it's a waste of time. Some argue that it eliminates the need for a frame, covering unsightly raw edges, but I don't see the point. Besides, I feel that the sum of the painting should be what is happening on the main surface, and that painting the side creates a distraction at best, and reduces the painting to merely a decorative object at the worst.
But these are merely decorative objects to me, and I think that's what inspired the painted sides. Obviously paintings are decorative objects, and I'm not trying to elevate them far beyond what they are. But to me the side-painting practice seems kind of dumb and cheap-looking. Of course, these paintings are meant to be dumb and cheap-looking, so there you go.
In case you're wondering, War is a cheerleader. If I ever get around to finishing her, I'll post her.
This is my new Slenderman T-shirt, which I made using Tulip brand fabric paints (in white and brown, Slendy's skin was made by mixing the two) and a T-shirt I altered to fit me.
Why? Because Slenderman is my new best friend.
I started watching the Slenderman ARGs on YouTube (Marble Hornets, EverymanHYBRID and TribeTwelve), and though in all three, Slendy is a menacing figure, I think he's adorable. I mean, look at that face. Er...
Anyway, the series are all really fun and spooky and I recommend them to anyone who likes a good creepy mystery. They've also inspired me to work with video, which I'm not very good at, but I'm liking the mysterious and cryptic shorts that plague the main characters in each series. I've been shooting some footage and maybe I'll piece one together at some point. (And no, no wild Slendies yet.)
And, of course, since Slendy is my new best friend, I decided to make a T-shirt of him. He lives on the left side (the wearer's left side) of the shirt, and that means he gets to hang out on my boob. Lucky Slendy. I painted him with sort of mitten hands, because I like to think that he's not so much wearing a suit as he is a suit.
Please excuse the paint blotches. This is an in-progress picture and so is not completely cleaned up. The colorful bit near the collar is not part of the shirt; it's a magazine separating the layers to prevent bleed-through.
Phew.
Now that I've ranted sufficiently, we can get back to our normal routine. You know, the one where I disappear for a while and then resurface with new work. Like I said, I normally try not to get emotionally invested in political (or pseudo-political, as the case may be) stuff, but certain things just get me...oooh.
Anyway, I got a commissioned illustration job for Circle of Grace, a spiritual group who was holding a lecture series on emotional dependence. The subject matter was all about learning to become more of an emotionally healthy individual, and the illustrations all centered on various concepts within that theme.
All of these are watercolor, pencil, ink and gouache on Arches paper (which is the best paper ever, if also the most expensive). As you can see, I used lots of patterns and chubby birds in these images, and I also experimented with (rudimentary) fractals, which was fun.
There are about 30 of these illustrations in total, and they were hard work. I stayed up past 4 am for these and watched 3 complete DVDs of the Daria complete series to keep myself awake.
I'm also working, when I can, on oil paintings and hopefully I'll be able to post them soon.
And no more socio-political rants, I promise.
Today on "Artists You Should Know," we're taking a look at some of the people who I've not only known, but have given me wond
erful guidance and advice as a young artist. The three artists I'll be discussing were teachers of mine at SUNY New Paltz, all of them sweet, lovely, and immensely talented and smart.
The painting seen here is Big Whoop by Robin Arnold, and features her awesome mouse character. Robin is pure awesome. Her critiques were always on point, and she always seemed to know what we were trying to say with our paintings and how we should go about expressing ourselves more clearly. I have a special appreciation for her work because, like mine, it deals with nostalgia and the eerie-but-comforting and always inescapable qualities of memory. Unfortunately (for me), hers is the only site that actually allows me to reproduce an image here.
Up next is Audrey Francis, whose work is bright and moving, and deals with identity, the body, and more. I did probably the best painting (The Council) I did in the entirety of my college career in Audrey's class. I'm not sure that she still works for the college, but her site is great and you should check it out. I particularly like the "Santos" section, as it appeals to my cultish qualities. That body of work was done, as she put it, "a lifetime ago."
Finally we have Kathy Goodell, whose name I can never remember to spell correctly (the spelling here is right). Kathy taught Water Media and Collage and was the kind of person who made you feel totally comfortable explaining your weirdest, most convoluted art concepts to. She also can be seen in the documentary Crumb, having once dated cartoonist Robert Crumb. Really. But more important is the vast scope of her work, which utilizes a wide variety of materials and methods to create forms and images that speak at once to the universe at large and the dark human interior. Working with beeswax, glass, found objects and wood as well as watercolor and pencil, she captures deep and complex emotions in organic shapes and lines. Her website is arranged by body of work, so you can easily see the concepts of her pieces.
Check them out!
Normally I sketch in preparation for a larger project--they're like maps to the image in my head and they don't make a lot of sense on their own, and I typically include lots of little notes that amuse only me with arrows pointing to things and such. But here's one that I liked on its own. It's after the medieval fashion, and features intrigue, as usual.
I also made a video sketch, which came out looking like Kurt Cobain. It was unintentional, and I didn't realize it until it was done, thinking instead that I was drawing a sad Viking. I would have uploaded the video here, but Blogger and/or my Internet connection wasn't having it. I actually like the video itself more than I like the drawing, which is kind of meh.
Kurt Cobain would have made an excellent sad Viking.
In other news, I went to a farm the other day and farms are very good for artistic inspiration. Lots of homey things, and fields and fat birds. I have some sketches drawn up for possible future paintings. Hurray!
Finally an oil painting!
This is Big Wind, which is actually the title of a song by Myshkin's Ruby Warblers (but that is not, sadly, up on YouTube), but it seemed apt for this painting. It's oil and collage (dyed leaf skeletons) on fabric and is the first of a subseries within the Home series. This subseries, "Storm Country", is based on the Little Apocalypse monotype series, specifically on one print bearing the same name.
The idea is the decay of Americana, and the future of what was once the promised land. The three paintings star two exterminators, who I've been calling Sarah and Miranda without knowing which is which, who live in a blighted landscape of severe weather and the fossils of the homesteaders who went before them. Here's one of them taking daily meteorological measurements, gauging the day's weather. The thermometer/barometer set-up, the pinwheels, the sunflower and birdhouse are taken directly from the print. The whirligig, next to the pinwheels, is modeled on one I saw on Antiques Roadshow one time.
Appropriately, it is raining violently and occasionally hailing as I write this.
Welly, welly well, it's been a while. That's okay though, because that means I have a job and can't sit around on my computer all day.
It also means I've been shamefully remiss about painting, though things are under way and I'm hoping to complete them before the sun becomes a red giant and swallows the earth. (Although at that point, who cares?) I haven't even really been doing any watercolors, having been feeling rather uninspired lately. Here, however, are some pieces I put on my deviantART account but not here.
Up first is a group shot of me and most of my alter-egos. One more came out of the woodwork after this picture was completed, but you'll get to meet her soon. From left to right is an exterminator, a skullhead (a sugar skullhead, to be precise), me, a skullhoodie, and a surgeon.
Next is Beast Boy and his new necklace, because even Beast Boys need to feel pretty sometimes. I really enjoy painting teeth like that.
Both were done with the usual mix of watercolors, watercolor pencils, gouache, ink and colored pencil.
Last time I featured some images from my sketchpad, in which I have been doing pen drawings.
I've also talked at length about my writing, and how it intersects (or rather, how it doesn't usually intersect) with my art, and how I like to keep them separate. Both my art and my writing tell stories, but in vastly different ways. The art is a single image, and usually speaks to a more nebulous emotional space that is difficult to put into words. The writing, on the other hand, usually expresses a more intellectual or cerebral idea that translates well into words. They don't mix.
But, as with all things, there are exceptions. I find, sometimes, that drawing little portraits of my characters can be helpful (somehow) and so here are two of them. This is Annemarie and Isaiah. They will kill you. Like seriously. They'll kill you.
That's the other major difference between my writing and art--my writing's a lot more violent.
I don't feel like talking about the story they inhabit too much, but it's full of murder and mayhem (more murder than mayhem, though), and currently weighs in at 80 pages on MS Word--single-space 10-point font. And it's not done. But I like how it's going, and there are certainly scenes that scare even me. Fun times!
My mom gave me a sketchpad a while ago. I don't typically use sketchpads, or anything spiral bound. I'm very particular about my sketchbooks, but I started carrying it around anyway, in addition to my regular sketchbook. I decided it would be a good place to draw the stuff that I don't like to draw in my regular sketchbook, namely pen drawings. My regular sketchbook is generally used to try out new painting ideas, and I don't like to use pen in it. So the sketchpad became the place for pen.
Here are some samples of the pen stuff I've been doing. I'm not entirely satisfied with them, as pens have never been my preferred medium. I think they're a little cartoonish, and that's not a style I particularly like (even less so after everyone in high school insisted that cartoons were what I "should" create). Most of these images are drawn fairly quickly, and represent pretty uncomplicated ideas.
At the top is a form of skullhead. She's a grown-up skullhead, and kind of south-of-the-border-themed. There's not much to say about her.
Then comes a self-portrait. Yes, that's me. I consider all of my work to be self-portraits, in that they express interior feelings or processes of mine, which, to me, is a self-portrait of the most intimate kind. So it's weird to do an "actual" one, of a physical representation. And anyway, I don't feel that my physicality is terribly interesting. But I like this picture.
Then comes Spider Mouse. I had a dream about Spider Mouse one night and it was just the cutest little thing, crawling up the wall and being all fuzzy. I tend to dream about really fucked-up animals a lot, but they (the animals) are usually really friendly and cute. Recently, I dreamt about a small furry horse who lost two legs to a bear attack and lived in this family's front yard and ate cereal.
I really want a Spider Mouse.
Here's a little picture to tide you over until the larger paintings I'm currently working on are completed. It's been slow going, between the humidity slowing the drying process and work, but things are chugging along.
In the meantime have this. This is what happens to my hair when I get out of the shower--I've been calling this "Apres le Bain." Pretend there's an accent mark over the e in apres. And anyway, everyone loves tentacles.
From the top: Skull on Fire; Intelligent Design; The Stage is Set; The Game; Pointer
If you've played the immensely popular sandbox-style game Minecraft, you might be familiar with Swedish painter Kristoffer Zetterstrand's artwork without even realizing it. Zetterstrand has long been interested in the way traditional art like painting intersects with the 3-D landscapes generated by computers in games; he once did a series of lansdcapes based on the views in Counter-Strike--but only the views the player could see when "dead" and lying on their back. In Minecraft, players can create paintings to hang on the walls of their houses. The randomly-selected images include the work of Zetterstrand, including Skull on Fire and Pointer. (The selection also includes Caspar David Friedrich's Wanderer above the Sea of Fog).
His oil-on-canvas paintings incorporate traditional oil painting techniques, resulting in realism, with flat, cartoonish images, and solid blocks of color that evoke the pixelated images of computer games. His work also speaks to the creation and generation of landscapes as understood and designed by the human mind, and imagines things like game worlds outside of the confines of a computer screen, as three-dimensional lands. The Game illustrates this idea quite well, with the human figure considering the miniature landscape sprawling over his desk. This idea of creation and design inevitably recalls philosophical and religious debates, as is explored in Intelligent Design, which also showcases some of Zetterstrand's black and white work. In both of these paintings, a human is considering an abstract idea by laying out his thoughts in front of himself, it seems, in the form of a series of images for him to consider. (I don't know if this was what Zetterstrand was going for, but I know that's how I think, and so that is the conclusion I naturally draw.) The human figures are separate from the images before them, but simultaneously linked to them on a deep level.
His work is meticulously detailed and he pays special attention to his use of color and style, often juxtaposing two seemingly opposite styles to achieve a startling effect. You can check out more of his work and information about his inspirations and work on his website.
