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.
