Saturday, May 30, 2015

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Thursday, May 21, 2015

deep ink

Ink has this greatness to it that is only understood by those who try to paint with it. It is mean and wild and if you learn to except that it can be beautiful. I have cried in my dreams over great art that has been fucked over by ink and a shaky hand.

Monday, May 18, 2015

infiinite dreamers

Magda the strange.

Something about this just feels so fucking alive and I love it. This new watercolor cotton paper had me fearful because I could not predict how it would take my painting style. I feel so good about it. It moves and ebs and flows. Perfecto!

 So much more to come.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

The three

I've been making so much recently I forget to post some of it. Sorry folks.

When I was a boy I dreamed on being unhuman. Human's need sleep and  have to be around in the mornings. I didn't want either so as I was an insomniac at age 10, I made the best of it and imagined my self as special and amazing. In those hours of not sleeping I would think and plan out art to make the next day or even weeks. I guess my first art desk was my ceiling at the top of my bunk bed.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

The three

Sometimes I do colors and sometimes it feels perfect in black and white.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

coffee =time

three faces of life

I always try to do at least four or six paintings at a time. I get pumped waiting for ink and paint to dry. It's the closest I get to being a kid again.