Sometimes it takes a bit of letting go. What I mean is, painting is what I'd like to be doing just about every second of my life, but sometimes you have to let life have its way with you. It's been insanely (and I mean, absolutely crazy) eventful and busy since we've gotten back to California a few months ago, and I'm just now starting to hit my stride with balancing everything. Which means being able to carve out more and more time for painting. Thank everything. You can follow me on Instagram (which I promise won't be so quiet from here on out) if you want to keep up with my new pieces. Here's a little progress shot of some fresh studio work.
There's just something about wheatpaste graffiti in a foreign city that I've always gravitated to. I especially love seeing the decline of these pieces and catching them in a final stage of their lives. This is the second piece in my "Death of Art" series where I document deteriorating graffiti that I think are almost more powerful having been acted upon by exterior forces. Street art seems to be the best and most honest reflection of our modern selves (in my opinion) and I like to record their mature portraits.
Italy has a strong, well documented history of graffiti (my personal favorites being what can be found in ancient bath houses), and when I was last in Rome I guess I was really diggin' what all the modern artists had to say. I keep looking back to my time in Italy for inspiration and in doing so came across an entire stash of photos of Roman graffiti circa 2010. This one that I chose to paint, I just have so many questions. For starters, what the hell is happening here? Did the person who ripped it down dislike it simply because it was graffiti or because of the message? Who was the artist? What are those little flying heads all about? Guess I'll never know, but at least now I have a piece of a Roman wall hanging on my wall covered in another artists handiwork and that's enough for me.
This piece was a big turning point for me in terms of subject matter, style, and personal honesty in my painting. It's by no means one I would consider a compositional success or my favorite piece, but it pushed me somewhere I needed to go. Despotiko is a small area of a small island in the middle of the Aegean Sea where you can see shards of sixth century BC pottery poking out of the ground. I visited there while studying art in Greece and there's something 'other' about this place on the planet. Some energy coupled with an absolutely gorgeous land/seascape that you can't help but respond to from a place deep within. It's stayed with me ever since I left and this is a piece that was a catalyst for me getting to a more meaningful place in my art. Despotiko is magic.
A fever dream of purple cacti. Missing the west coast a lot lately.
In deciding to continue experimenting with my style, I forgot that it means I'll never sleep again. This piece kept me up til 5am.
Can't decide on a title, I was going to go with "Faceplant" but I have a love/hate relationship with puns.
When your brain and your mouth can't agree on what's going on.
I can't remember the last time I was so excited for a new year! I've got a lot in the works, and one of the projects I started nearly at the stroke of midnight on the 31st of 2015 is this:
If I could realize this dream in large scale it would be that of a long wall stretching out of sight with carefully arranged canvases telling the small stories that a sprawling meadow keeps to itself.
Because it's December 15th and it's 70 degrees outside. I was waiting for snow, but I guess I'd do better to just enjoy all the flowers still in full bloom around here.
Needed a break from all the holiday work to create for myself. Out came this little guy. I don't know why, but recently I'm very interested in revisiting my time spent in Venice. I guess I just miss that lovely, lively water.