wherein our hero questions your authenticity

i can never think of anything intelligent / interesting to say
other than the negative to the negative of all else

hesitation and consequence
, an archival of failure





inspirations ::
BOYD RICE
andy warhol
anton newcombe
anton lavey
charles manson
claudia kishi
mollie sue
catherine lawrence
mark z danielewski
hoop girl [from ooooh so long ago. she haunts thoughts that cross years]
francis picabia
lovecraft ;;; springtime is lovecraft, with the discovery of underground lairs and crypto-everything.

all i can do is rebel the rebels, protest the protest



MY MOTHER SAID
TO GET THINGS DONE
YOU BETTER NOT MESS WITH MAJOR TOM

combined youth

i've been drawing silly things while watching silly movies





i am really enjoying the combined youth concept, of collaborating with my former selves to attempt the things i wish i was capable of doing then, and dispersing them to people i may never know,,,,,,,,,,,,

my bunnies look like strange hands,

i am waiting out february in my old old room north of the city. it has been 2 full days sans nosebleed and really, that has come to be something worth celebrating.

another thing worth celebrating :: voluntary and involuntary socialization!
i may have my gripes with vernissages but z is worth it. also, this saturday night / sunday morning is montreal's nuit blanche! this is my third year attending as a viewer, and despite the everything, i am still looking forward.

a wise chauncey once said ::
'i don't know what you've been huffing but there ain't no such thing as god'
trufax
so, don't do drugs?

spring spring spring. i think this is the first year yet where i am DYING for the season change. i have done little to no winter appreciation this year. i want yellow and green and blue. sunshine and that waxen smell. fewer layers and neater shoes. less frozen dogg poo in the alleys we rule. i also intend to establish a mini gallery at the end of the alley - i suppose i could do this now but snow proves a formidable enemy at the moment and will swallow the world if i am not careful because clearly i am in control of everything that happens in this city.

i have just to the right of me is a copy of francis picabia's 'i am a beautiful monster'. i owe most of my artistic uncareer to dada - guillaume appollinaire, tristan tzara, man ray, marcel duchamp, all have continually inspired me to keep thinking and keep making in revolt against the undergrad blues. everyday i am faced with the decision to throw in the embroidery hoop for a 'simpler' life and these men [funny, no women...] and their brilliant acheivements revive my interest in the FUCK YOU to our institutions. i always think to my selves 'well of course they can get away with doing crazy shit this was the early 20th century, times were different then' and catch my unknown logical and try to turn it into 'this is the early 21st century - just think of all the crazy shit i can get away with'. sure things are different, but i am not far off enough. time to get out, way out. state a few more interventions, blame it on the ilhu.

was an ill hu earlier this week. body shocks rock photobooth for multiple bloody noses.
too bad the university has a policy against using bodily fluids in art projects. nerdlingers.

Etsy Buy Handmade satyrinae

jigsaw sketchbooks / rudebooks

amongst the large things i do
the overambitious and slightly useless
stays small.
rudebook snappings
they are like the commercials between pieces
begging for time for twin bees









while watching rupaul's drag race. and once again, jellyfish on buses save the day.

do you have a sketchbook to share?

overdose

a small part in my series on substance habituation
drawing this / writing this actually didn't take me as long as i originally anticipated.
i
my speed [har har] astounds me
i'm trying to get this on the primary level - i'm avoiding scientific records and data and attempting to make my own sources - all anonymously, of course.
i'm saving the spam in my box because for some convenient reason i'm on some pharmaceutical listserve.
dead mellotron is the best spam i ever heard, i tells ya.

here are some other lovelies i've done

a brooch on etsy
[recognize?]



a small mock up for my traveling show



speaking of shows, you're going to have to wait a little longer before anyone sees me in one. something tells me i should just not even adhere to the hipsterism of galleries in mtl - i would love to see a show that DOESN'T ooze pretentious annoying. <---- this is why you'll never see me at a vernissage. a] large groups of people in rooms make me extremely anxious b] i dislike talking with peope if only to 'network' and have them add you on facebook and never talk to them again c] i unfortunately can't be bothered to see what 'my contemporaries are up to' because i just see the same thing over and over again.
rejection makes me bitter SO BITTER. i dislike attempting good ideas, applying, submitting, waiting, and being rejected. it's a no-win situation. it gets me writing and making but so far i've applied to many shows to no avail. i'm 22 and already i'm tired of sucking at what i love doing. i'm upset over it because i took it personally. i love love this piece now and wanted to have it seen as i do. there are pieces of me in there [really, physically!] - maybe they just couldn't handle it's fierceness? who cares why. it's done, there's nothing i can do other than make some more to for people to dislike. TOO BAD.
the streets will always eat my art. it's a solo show everyday of the week!

i actually DID leave the house today - we made the conscious effort to hear alessandro cortini lecture about his owesome modulator. it seems the only 'shows' i do see have very little to do with my 'scene'. i figure if i'm going to go out in the MTL snow it may as well be something i've never seen / heard before. i spend 12+ hours per day with fibres, sculpture, and text. there is more to life than that. at least i sure hope there is.

for anyone in the MTL area who enjoys electroacoustics, i would highly recommend seeing cortini's show. it's this friday [the 30th] at the oscar peterson concert hall. not only is he a really cool guy, but DAMN he sure knows how to oscillate.

here is some summer '07 cloud love to get you through the end of january.

play drawing

i finally got around to fetching my portfolio

sketch etc

haven't been terribly productive the past few days
sketchbook takes i've had on agamemnon for a while

surface underneath

i'm not much of a painter, i have no formal training in it whatsoever.  i refer it mainly as paintslinging,  it's an instantaneous access to colour that covers a lot of space.  these are each sketchbook drawings cut and collaged onto 5x7 dollarama canvas [3 for $1, oh yea!] 

paintslinglings always take me a while to complete because i like the mostly opaque layering effect that acrylique paint gives me and i never plan what i make, so i do something ie this and put it down for a while till i figure out what to do next.  

i would like more animalia on coccyx

another collaged image on vert

this one is my fave - i would like something fibrous added to this guy.

i am inspired by reqian textures.    and bones.  you're the [default] inspiration.

HISTology

2 arts in one day!

ink drawings of forms adapted from histology slides 

[found in a book from monastiraki for $6]

miscellaneous berry flesh

watercolour paper bound with wire and canvas

three words

but this is not the place for that

metamorphosis

μεταμόρφωσις, "transformation, transforming", from μετα- (meta-), "change" + μορφή (morfe) "form"

i don't know how else to change, than to find a saturniidae corpse underneath the leaves.  it's body disintegrated by the time i returned to rat city, but luckily the wings were intact.  like a surgeon, slicing away at the rotting parts of the wings [the bugs had managed to get to it before i did], i felt like i was hurting it.  i replaced it's body and it's past with wire and other scrap metal.  trying to recreate the stages, trying not to cry.

the adventures continue - but i feel different now.  time hadn't bothered me before, but now i can feel it creeping.  i hadn't wanted that slow sadness to be felt yet.  

i am feeling repetitive, caught in revolutions instead of evolutions.  there is the chance to break out, but personally this distance is making me feel a little numb.  our days are numbered - when are they not?  i would much prefer to remain oblivious to that, i am far more appreciative in that way.

i would like them alone.  - we will though, we just have to wait.

wait.

i need to dry off a bit before i go one, even though there isn't really time for that.

drawing attempt