Histories from Rust and Mold...

It's a very strange thing to learn that you've lost everything, or nearly everything, in any particular area of your life. Of course it comes with the feelings that you'd expect, anger and sadness in their various swings....but there is so much else that goes practically unseen, working beneath the surface.
It's been a little over a year since I officially "moved" to Denver...I say it that way because I have done what I think a lot of Denver transplants did, that is, visit here and then decided to stay. It's been near two years since I left Brooklyn....you can probably see the gap there. When I left Brooklyn I had no clear idea where it was that I would end up....I just knew at that time that New York was not going to work. So, my possessions went into storage.
It's been a little over a year since I officially lost the majority of my possessions to water damage while in storage....including most of my portfolio. Fifteen years of work gone in a weekend, and realized with one phone call.

For the better part of this year, I have really been unable to bring myself to draw in any real capacity. If I had to come up with an explanation, the best one would have to be that maybe I had this feeling of starting over, which is daunting. I spent most of the time writing, which is all I had left seeing as how all my writing DID make it through the disaster unscathed. The little drawing that I did do just felt forced and with results that I have to say I wasn't particularly fond of.

A few months ago I decided to finally organize my studio space. While going through things and figuring out where to put them I came across two drawings in progress that I forgot that I had hidden in a box of paper (that I was luck enough to have survive the water damage). The reason that I'm bringing any of this up at all is because of the fact that I have been in a drawing frenzy for the past few weeks, and I owe it to that discovery.
One of those drawings is the one I just completed for the Collaboration Show, the other is this mixed media drawing:

...which was the lone survivor of a short series of gestural drawings I was doing.

All of this brought the idea of history into my mind, and the conclusion that I'm just not satisfied with accepting that some past work is gone forever....which brings me to the current work portion of the promised posts. Below are some scans of deceased work that I have pulled up because I plan to re-draw them. I struggled with the idea of redoing past work, but like I said, I'm just not ready to chalk these up as casualties of war just yet, and feel the need to resurrect them.
Also, I intend to redo these large scale, around the same size as The Fork Communion that I just completed. Of course, I don't expect these to be finished any time soon, but I will try to post progress reports.
I'm also thinking about finishing the above drawing and maybe restarting that series again. I haven't decided as of yet, my mind seems to be all over the place lately (the writing within this blog should be a good indication of that fact).

I'm going to need more coffee.....

Noun Remains Found in the Sun…

Icing on the Cost…

Does My Imaginary Butt look Fat?

I doubt that this is true for everyone, in fact..I know it isn't, but I do know that it's true for myself and for many that I call friend: Having a crush on somebody can be it's own incentive to accomplish certain things that you have been neglecting or lethargic about to some extent, an incentive that can't be found or equaled anywhere else.
I'm not talking about the little everyday crushes.....the ones where you find yourself thinking, "That person is cute...I wonder if they would like to shag and then never cross paths again?" No. I'm writing about those gut fucking wrenching crushes that you can't explain and won't leave your thoughts ever, whether you're awake or sleeping...usually involving a person you have no chance with either because they are already in a relationship, married, gay or already issued a restraining order against you.

Those are the crushes that kick my ass, where I find myself immersed in drawings or writing for whatever reason that I tend to do that. To be honest, I have to think that my reasons are of the 'distraction' sort, because let's face it: my chosen passions tends to be ones of a solitary existence. Going through a manic productive stage for me means that I become even more reclusive than I already am.

In any case, the fact still remains: a heart poisoning crush puts me at my most creative, which is a place that I would like to be in right now. The problem being, I have no crush to speak of.....actually, I haven't had one for a long, long time now. Years to be more to the point.....and I'm not entirely sure why. I wouldn't dare to say that I think I'm incapable of them anymore, because that would be like saying that I doubt I'll ever get another ticket on my car for having no front plate even though I do. I just think my unconscious is smart enough to leave well enough alone at the moment.

So, I decided to create a crush. An imaginary one that we'll name No.6 to keep it impersonal. I would describe her for you all if it weren't for the fact that I can't. The problem with having a make-believe infatuation for me is that my imagination tends to wander. At one point, No.6 was a brunette....at another point, a red head. She even had three arms for a short while because I thought that would help in her knitting, which she likes to do, but then she gave it up to raise legless otters. Of course she has a thick Russian accent, but for a short period she had the voice of Scott Baio in his Chachi days.....which really, really disturbed me and caused me to drink heavily that night!

Do I honestly think that manufacturing a person to obsess over will work at all? Of course not. The whole idea behind this came about from a night out with new friends over drinks at the Sputnik. At one point we brought up that we agreed it would be great if we could bottle that intensity a crush generates while leaving out all the negative side effects....like, oh I don't know....despair?
As you can tell, I genuinely like the whole idea....enough that it put the whole subject of crushes in my mind, and made me almost wish that I could feel that again. That is until I take a step back to witness all the violent ups and downs my friends seem to be going through with their significant others....and then I thank my unconscious for keeping that door closed for the time being.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's an imaginary lawyer at my door to issue me a phantom restraining order........

Flaws in the Holding Pattern…

It Happens Three Times Twice…

Who Runs Bounty Town?

I've probably mentioned this before, but it's a rarity that I am actually lucky enough to remember my dreams...most likely due to the fact that I spend enough energy daydreaming that my mind thinks to itself, "why bother?". But every now and again a vivid enough dream breaks through to the memory of my waking life, as the one from last night did.

In short, I dreamt that I was in a post-apocalyptic future, dressed to the nines in the latest of canvas, leather and rubber found objects. Everything had been destroyed and then haphazardly attempted to have been reassembled with duct tape. The landscape looked like a Cormac McCarthy story setting. You get the picture, I hope.
I was with a group of similar vagabonds, traveling from destroyed area to destroyed area in search of what was now the most valuable objects in this new world. Could it be gasoline? Maybe uncontaminated water? Any sort of hope or reminder of a better world before? Actually, it was large caches of gleaming white rolls of Paper Towels. It turns out that when the entire infrastructure of the world crumbles to dust, normal everyday accidental spills are the battles that are still worth fighting.
The dream ended during a fight with another nomadic tribe of clumsy drinkers fighting us for a found pile of white cottony gold. I didn't get the satisfaction of knowing wether we were victorious and therefore free from a future of small puddles for a short time....but the dream made enough of an impression on myself that not only did I wake and immediately check my kitchen for paper towels (of which there are still several rolls...take that you Cruel Hand of Fate!!), but I was inspired to do a little inspired sketch at work for Crumbly Nevertheless:

At this point I have a few hundred of these little drawings floating around my drawing table here....many of which I have already posted to the Crumbly Nevertheless Blog.....many more I need to do so with this weekend.
What started as a way to pass some down time at work with a ballpoint pen and some paper has become a little obsession for me....and as the reader count of that little corner of the web grows, I have entertained thoughts of how fun it would be just to have a showing of these little guys, even in this time of fear of all that is NOT archival in the art world. Still, it's a cute thought.....who knows?

No.3 has Left Without Promises…

It’s In the Pantry Again…

Wingless Clouds Scooting By…

Slow Motion Pudding Skins...

The show has ended (or, it's ending now as I write this), and as promised I shall now add photos.

...and yes, I did take photos of everyone else's work....but I will post those at a later time because I'm exhausted now.
I sold one small piece which makes me happy, and got a good response for the work in general, which makes me happier. Thanks to everyone who made it out, and a curse on all who didn't....don't worry....my cursing skills are only a level 2 right now, so the best I can do is make you all gassy.

End of the Kevins…

Pride of the Cutlery…

Without the Input of Smaller Influences...

When I was very little, my Grandfather told me that Asian women had horizontal vaginas. I was too young to question him, nor did I see any reason to think that he would be pulling my leg....also, I had no idea at the time as to what a vagina was....so I held on to this belief for far longer than I ever should have. It is completely untrue, of course, nor does it have anything to do with this post other than the fact that Rachael mentioned that my blog was getting boring so I thought the image of a sideways womanhood would at least fuel the comment section, seeing as the vast majority of you don't make it past the first paragraph out of your fear of words. So, for the rest of us, let's move on.

So, a drawing that I started over two years ago, and one of the only survivors of everything I lost when moving here, as well as the reason that I've been more antisocial than usual, is finally done and framed and ready to be presented this weekend at the opening, along with a few much smaller works. I have to say that I am both happy as hell to have it completed and sick to death of seeing it. I think that one of the reasons I refrain from drawings of this size is that given the time it takes to complete them I tend to lose interest, or worse yet, my mind wanders while working towards things that I could be doing otherwise....like having a love life for example. But then I snap back to reality and laugh out loud....alone......followed shortly after by the disrobing of all clothing, the fetal position in the corner of my room, and the rocking back and forth until morning.
No, honestly, one of the things I suffer while either writing or drawing is that while doing so I tend to have the most visits from my drunken muse. Sometimes I am lucky enough to try some form of documenting these ideas and random thoughts to do something with later, but most unfortunately are lost to wherever these kinds of notions get lost to......most likely to the heads of random schizophrenic street vagrants, which is my mother's theory.

Anyway, having said all that, I am now wondering why it is exactly that I have started two more drawings roughly the same size of the one I just completed.......Fuck You Love Life!!! (shaking fists in the air)

In a quick summary of other news: the show is this weekend (Saturday & Sunday)...which I have posted about previously; I just learned that an old friend, Duncan Barlow, will be moving away from Denver to Florida on Monday, so I'll be ducking out of the art extraveganza to see him off this Saturday; I have another show lined up on Santa Fe for November, thanks in part to the great hunt this past weekend to find a place to have the above mentioned drawing scanned for my portfolio; some friends from Louisville, as well as previous members of Slint fame, Dead Child, will be playing at the High Dive this monday...so come on out to see that if you are able; and finally, I have decided to rethink my Myspace profile as well as completely do away with the design of my defunct website.....more on that at a later time.

But for now I must go as my muse is back and vomitting in the bathroom and she likes it when I hold her hair for her.

Having to do with Tarts…

Dental Prawn Stereo…

Not for Lack of Crying…

the Fork Communion

Sorry again to all for the gap I let happen in the postings and updates of this here little written corner. I have to admit to being completely distracted with other things as of late....other things being artwork. I have found my wind again in the mode of drawing and have been doing so full time, sacrificing sleep, family and friends......and hygiene.....I am sweating cigarettes and coffee.

This is just going to be a quick post to let you all know about the upcoming show that I'm fortunate enough to be a part of.

For those in the area, come on out. There are many artists that are going to be taking part in this, and I have a few pieces going up....one of which is a drawing I have spent two years working on and is one of the two only survivors of the great storage space disasters.

I will post pics of the show after the fact for those of you who can't make it, just so you can see how much fun we had without you and wonder if we made fun of you since you weren't there....which we will.

Unattended Closet Consequences…

Absence of a Different Sort…

Happenstance Related…

South of the West Dwellers…