Punched in the Dick By a Baby Gorilla

September 21, 2013

"Punched in the Dick By a Baby Gorilla." 9/21/13. Pencil and marker on vellum.
“Punched in the Dick By a Baby Gorilla.” 9/21/13. Pencil and marker on vellum. 8×10″.

After a couple of days, not having Adderall really drastically hurts my mood, energy, and outlook but – if I just miss a dose – the only consequence is… silliness.

Months ago, riding in the car with Heather back in Bradenton, I had gone longer than I should have without Adderall and I decided that (the idea that I’d been) “punched in the dick by a baby gorilla” was the funniest thing ever. I spent ten minutes finding any excuse at all to say the words, “punched in the dick by a baby gorilla.” Like, over and over again. It’s not really in line with my usual sense of humor, is totally stupid, and – it’s just absurd. Which is probably why I thought it was so funny at the time; it was funny that I’d even had a thought like that.

Last night, after I started to feel a little better, I spent a couple hours painting. Smoking a cigarette, looking at Instagram, I saw something my friend Trey made. I like my art a lot, but every now and then I wish that I actually had the talent to put an image on my canvas exactly as it appears in my head. Unfortunately, that takes practice. Which is what Trey’s sketch inspired me to do. For some reason, the baby gorilla thing came to mind so I went with that.

I realize that any high school art student could bang this out in two minutes or less but anything other than a cartoon Sam standing perfectly upright is still pretty tough for me. It took me two hours to get to the point where I was ready to color and outline this. It was good practice though and I had fun making it.

Buy your own 10×8-inch “Punched in the Dick by a Baby Gorilla” from the webstore.

Weird Kids With Bad Teeth

September 20, 2013

"Weird Kids With Bad Teeth." 2/27/13. Acrylic paint, pen, duct tape. 4x4".
“Weird Kids With Bad Teeth.” 2/27/13. Acrylic paint, pen, duct tape. 4×4″.

I alluded to this piece in “Titrating,” when I described myself as feeling scared, stuck, and trapped, but smiling. (See the red text in the background).

Like the pieces in “The Weak End” series of paintings, this (along with several others) started out as one large painting that I eventually cut up into a lot of smaller ones. Unlike that series though, all of the paintings in this series (“Your Higher Power is Literally Garbage”) were painted and repainted so much that they don’t really share much in common.

In the center of this piece is a strip of pink duct tape that I drew on, while riding in the car, because I had no paper. Yet another weird/poor drawing of a kid with fucked up teeth. It’s pretty representative of my belief that I’ve got a lot more willingness than I do talent (or even creativity).

As often as I feel “inspired,” I’ve got nothing. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still have the need to create something. So I do. Because it’s good for me. It helps me, emotionally.

And if you read my last post, you know that right now is one of those occasions where I desperately need to create something. And I knew that I’d come to that conclusion if I wrote up the entry for this piece, which is why I chose to write an entry around “Pulp” first. I wasn’t ready to do what I needed to do to get better. But I am now.

UPDATE (9/23/13): Now listed for sale.
UPDATE (12/1/13): SOLD! Now listed for sale as a 4×4″ print. 

Parents (I’m Not Sorry)

September 18, 2013

"Parents (I'm Not Sorry)." 12/11/12. Pen and pencil. 2x3"
“Parents (I’m Not Sorry).” 12/11/12. Pen and pencil. 2×3″

I drew this while sitting in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, one night after “Clarity” and “Chrissy Fit” and one night before “No Accident.” I guess you could say it’s about stress and coping mechanisms. Cigarettes, yoga, whatever. I chose the kangaroo with the overgrown kid ’cause the things that stress us out most tend to be (1) problems we’ve created ourselves and (2) things that – long after we have any reason to – we continue to carry around with us.

—–

I’m still sick and I’ve been feeling especially under the weather today.  I’m good emotionally though, so I’m very grateful for that.

—–

The original is still available, but the image pictured here is the 4×4″ print that I have for sale in my webstore.

My Girlfriend Isn’t a Drug Addict, She Manages Her Own Life (and a Charlotte Russe), I Can’t Get Her to Pee On Me, and I’m Really Fucking In Love With Her

September 17, 2013

“My Girlfriend Isn’t a Drug Addict, She Manages Her Own Life (and a Charlotte Russe), I Can’t Get Her to Pee On Me, and I’m Really Fucking In Love With Her.” 2/24/13. Acrylic and pen on cardboard (on wood). 25×8″.

For a while, I was pretty convinced that the only girls who might ever possibly be interested in me were also drug addicts. I’m not sure whether it ever occurred to me that maybe it only seemed that way because the only girls I ever met were girls that I was in treatment with or girls at meetings.

In twelve-step programs, one is encouraged to surrender their will to [whatever]. It doesn’t really matter what it’s surrendered to, so long as you’re not the one calling the shots anymore. But regular people … you know… don’t have to do that. They get to manage their own lives. So, while I was buying cocaine by the ounce when I was seventeen, Heather has made it to twenty-eight (she’s old as shit!) without ever having tried anything beyond marijuana. That strikes as being totally insane, but my perception might be a little wacked. I have a hunch that a lot of people would find my history to be the one that’s a little unusual.

There’s all kinds of cool stuff I can’t talk Heather into, but peeing on me doesn’t fall into that category (because I don’t actually want her to pee on me; I just love to tease her and plead with her as if I do). I have fun.

Oh – and while she no longer works for Charlotte Russe, I’m still really fucking in love with her.

 

This piece was painted on a piece of cardboard from the same box as “The Weak End” series of paintings. It was one of my very first where I allowed myself to have absolutely zero concern with conveying a message with my images. For a time, I thought that the images in a painting needed to be directly related to any text that might appear in it. Eventually though, I realized that visual art is no different than music. No one ever asks “what does that A minor have to do with the lyrics to this song?” The music establishes a certain energy – a mood, a tone – that works in conjunction with the lyrics. While the nature of visual art allows me to sometimes make “music” that’s more obviously/directly linked to my “lyrics,” I no longer think it’s necessary.

This painting is currently for sale. sold on October 2, 2013.

Kill Your Parents

September 15, 2013

"Kill Your Parents." 4/5/13. Oil pastel. 12x18".
“Kill Your Parents.” 4/5/13. Oil pastel. 12×18″.

Here’s a piece from April and a statement from May.

I got out of rehab in February, but I’m still technically “in treatment.” Instead of twenty-five hours of group therapy each week, I’m down to three and a half. That’s one group – expressive art therapy – on Friday afternoons.

This piece is a little off for two reasons. At the start of art group, there’s a meditation, intended to lead us in what we’ll make. I was late and I missed it. More importantly, there had been an influx of new patients since I had been in group the previous Friday. And though it’s way more tempered than it once was, I still struggle with this strange impulse when confronted with new people (particularly in this kind of setting) – I feel like I have to let everyone know just how fucking outrageous I am… So I drew my drawing and then when it came time to title/caption it, I went with something not at all representative of how I was feeling, but something that would show the new crew how god damn wacky and edgy I am.

In that sense, this piece is kind of a failure. Because it’s not totally authentic or honest. In two other ways though, it’s a success. First, expressive art therapy isn’t about setting out to make something and then making it. It’s about making something – anything. It’s about making whatever comes out onto the page without premeditation or commitment to some vision in your head. When I first sat down, I started drawing an image that I had dreamed up for use as Rational Anthem’s summer tour poster. But I caught myself and stopped.

Second, it’s a success in that it’s got me writing this, right now. Acknowledging my neurotic compulsions and being honest about what an attention seeking, other-people’s-perceptions-of-me obsessed, insecure basketcase I can sometimes still be.

Still Sick (The Illest)

September 14, 2013

"Still Sick (The Illest)." 9/13/13. Marker and pen. 24x26".
“Still Sick (The Illest).” 9/13/13. Marker and pen. 24×36″.

Heroin is my drug of choice. While I’ve got a couple secondary DOCs, I’ve definitely never considered myself a “garbage can” addict (someone who will take anything at all to get any kind of fucked up). While I have a weird sort of pride about being a heroin addict, it’s only with some hesitancy that I’ll admit to ever having had any kinds of issues with alcohol or cocaine. I used to tease my friend Robin that – “while I’m glad to see you’re doing well, you probably need to go back out, hit bottom, and then come back if you actually wanna get better.” Because Robin’s DOC was crack – “not a real drug” (according to half-joking Sam).

So it’s really sort of embarrassing that I was as excited as I was yesterday when I bought OTC medicine for my cold symptoms. If there’s ever been any doubt in my mind about whether or not I’m really a drug addict, my excitement as I bought generic Nyquil yesterday ought to be all the indication I need to know that I am not like most people.

 

In so many ways, I feel like I’m just starting out – just starting to figure everything out. Myself, my life, what I want to do, how I want to do it. I feel like I’ve just recently started being me. This is my first large drawing (it’s two feet by three feet). Creating it was an interesting process and at so many different points, I felt myself being pulled in two different directions as to how I should proceed. Sometimes I want to push myself to try something new, sometimes I think I ought to stick with what makes my art look like my art.

The last thing I did was write in a sentence from the NA text that’s been in my head recently. “Although all addicts are basically the same in kind, we do, as individuals, differ in degree of sickness and rate of recovery.” I crossed it out. I wrote the word, “sick.” I crossed that out. I thought about what I wanted to do with the black bars where the words had been. I decided not to do anything with them.

 

Writing a statement about a piece, right when it’s done, is tricky sometimes. There are some other little things going on here, but I don’t know quite what to make of them yet. Thoughts about friendships, school, identity, and where I fit in.

The piece sold but limited edition hand-numbered and signed 12×18″ prints are still available. Hit me up if you’d like to purchase one.

I’m Also Available to Babysit

September 13, 2013

Just a few days after moving out of Tranquil Shores, I went to Artpool’s “Crafty Fest” to try and sell some of my paintings. I didn’t put my most “offensive” stuff out, but – early in – a kid came up to my table to look at everything with parents trailing behind. When mom and dad got closer I watched their faces change as the content of my stuff registered in their brains and they quickly hurried their kid along to the next table or booth. And then I watched this same exact sequence play out over and over throughout the day. So – right there at my table – I painted something new and laid it right out front.

"I'm Also Available to Babysit." 2/24/13. Acrylic on (what was) the front cover of a hardcover book. 9x12"
“I’m Also Available to Babysit.” 2/24/13. Acrylic on (what was) the front cover of a hardcover book. 9×12″.

A month or so after I made this, I got an email from Mike Duda asking if I still had it and how much I’d want for it. I think that was the first time someone had hit me up like that, so it was pretty great. That Mike is also responsible for writing and recording some of my favorite art (in his band, Like Bats) just made it that much cooler.

Here’s “The Last Catholic in America,” the last song on Like Bats’ debut full-length, Midwest Nothing.

 

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