Uncertainty over Unhappiness

January 30, 2026

“Uncertainty over Unhappiness.” 5/5/25. Ink on bristol. 10×10″.

This drawing started with a request: “Will you make a painting of my house?” 

Yeah, um, absolutely not. 

But I told the guy I could do my usual nonsense but work his house somewhere in there.

He was cool with that but told me he didn’t want any BAD WORDS or NEGATIVE MESSAGES. As if I couldn’t have deduced that on my own. I don’t take instructions but I’m not gonna deliver something I know the buyer won’t like. And someone who starts off with a request like his – he wants something SAFE. Safe = uplifting, positive. Hope, not despair. And NOTHING TOO FUNNY OR CYNICAL.

Listening to a podcast, I heard something that I’d written about many times before: “People will choose unhappiness over uncertainty.” Hearing it articulated by someone else made it feel especially profound – particularly in relation to someone who’d been blowing up my phone all day. I knew UNCERTAINTY VS UNHAPPINESS had to be the theme here; I just needed a positive angle on it.

I wrote a journal into the drawing:

It’s frustrating when someone you love chooses to rot in misery. What’s she so afraid of? Why can’t she break away?

BUT I DID THE SAME THING. I surrendered to an empty life because my familiar rut was comfortable compared to other hells I’d called home (or the hell in my imagination). 

SOMETIMES A SAFETY NET IS MORE NET THAN SAFETY. I had to lose mine to break free.

But uncertainty is better than unhappiness. “Someday this will all be over” and the regrets I’ve got are enough. Despair’s not worth much; might as well trade it for uncertainty. It’s worth the risk.

I was trying to articulate the sense of danger that breaking out of a rut often requires. You don’t like what your life’s become but you’re afraid to change anything. I did this for YEARS, so I get it. I told myself, “It could be SO MUCH WORSE. Surely, this degree of unhappiness is manageable.”

But that’s not living- it’s surviving. And our time is limited. We need to be bold. We need to chase dreams. And so long as we’re making a genuine effort – following our hearts instead of giving in to fear – I think it’s rare for things to go too wrong.

It’s only in resignation that we sink into really deep, lasting depressions. Nobody making a real effort is sad all the time because making an effort is ENERGIZING. The pursuit itself makes us feel good. Even when I’ve fallen short or things didn’t work out exactly as I’d like, I’ve yet to regret any steps I’ve taken to improve my life.

On the other hand, when I’ve resisted change – just to hold onto the pathetic little comforts I thought made my life bearable: I’d give just about anything to go back and let my shit fall apart sooner – so that I could get better sooner.

If you’ve gotta convince yourself that you’re happy, you’re not. And you won’t be until you make serious changes. And you probably already know what those changes are. If you’re afraid, don’t be. In considering bold, positive steps, the things we’re afraid to lose are likely keeping us sick. And the thing we’re actually most likely to lose is our misery.

A note about this drawing’s origins…

Toward the end of my eight-and-a-half year relapse, I’d become so resigned to addiction for the rest of my life, that I decided to try to start making art again. Until that point, it’d always been my policy that art and drugs would never coexist in my life. I started one painting and one drawing but didn’t get very far. This was the drawing. It sat unfinished for months while I was still using.

The guy who originally wanted to commission a painting of his house wasn’t paying enough for any painting (even if, as agreed, I’d make whatever I wanted and just include his house somewhere in it). So I offered him a 10×10-inch drawing instead, with the plan that I’d finally finish this one, which had been sitting untouched for a year even after I got clean. He agreed, so that’s what I did.

It’s been a little bit of a rough month. Four of my last five dates got canceled for weather. Wind in Venice, an ice storm in Columbia, and now snow in Greensboro and Charlotte. It’s a pretty major financial hit, so I have to remind myself that I’m still doing VERY WELL.

I’ll be back in Florida next week for the Downtown Sarasota Festival of the Arts. Judging just by the exhibitor standards and the cost to participate, it seems like a more exclusive step-up from the other events I’ve done in the past. I’m excited to see if it draws a wealthier crowd – the kind of people who’ll drop four-figures, right then and there, for a painting they like. Up to this point, I haven’t sold any of my more expensive paintings at an event like this. I’ve sold smaller ones for a few hundred and I’ve met people who followed-up and later bought a more expensive painting but never on the spot.

I still want to get into more galleries (which is where I’ve historically sold my bigger, more expensive paintings) but if it turns out that I can find the right buyers at art festivals – THAT’S COOL TOO. I’ve currently got a bunch of applications in for similar events scattered across the southeast and midwest. Decisions on those applications start coming in next month.

I’m a little nervous that my work, at first glance, might turn off some jurors at “higher tier” festivals, but I have no doubts about the strength of my work. I’m optimistic that some jurors will recognize its value, even quickly flipping through applications on a screen and missing smaller details, like the more meaningful passages of text. Though I also know some will scoff at what they perceive as crude titles (without looking any deeper) or that some purists might say things like, “This guy is a writer masquerading as a painter. Real artists don’t need words to be evocative.”

They’re wrong, of course. People want to connect on a deeper level and language makes that possible. My text enhances my paintings in the same way lyrics enhance a song.

Does it sound like I’m GETTING DEFENSIVE? Defensive against a critic who (thus far) only exists in my head?

I mean, that’s pretty on brand for me, wouldn’t you say?

Arguing with ghosts is fun. I ALWAYS WIN.

Check the Events page for more info on everything I’ve got coming up. Prints of “Uncertainty over Unhappiness” are now available in the webstore.

All of This is Just to Get Girls to Like Me

November 18, 2025

The DEATH OF SAMMY THRASHLIFE – but first: my newest painting and its story.

All of This is Just to Get Girls to Like Me | 10/23/25 | acrylic on canvas | 24×36″

“Come inside with me,” Jon said. “I wanna show off how punk you are.”

Ooooo – that made me feel PRETTY COOL. I was fourteen years old and this older kid who played guitar and sang in a punk band thought I was SUPER PUNK.

We went inside THE KFC where he worked and he got his paycheck. When we got back in the car, he explained to me, “Yeah, I don’t really dress punk anymore. There’s no one in this town to be punk for. It’s definitely not gonna get you any girls. It’s still fucking cool though.”

I think the knee-jerk judgmental reaction is that Jon was wrong. That you should be yourself no matter what.1

But Jon was also just a kid navigating adolescence and figuring shit out (even if, to me, he couldn’t have been more of an ELDER STATESMAN; I mean, come on, he was in ELEVENTH GRADE).

(It’s also worth noting that we’re talking about clothing. An expression of identity but not identity itself. It’s not FUNDAMENTALLY IMPORTANT).

I respected him and thought about what he’d said. (OBVIOUSLY IT STUCK WITH ME ‘cause I’m writing about it 25 years later). But I didn’t tone my shit down any. I STILL HAVEN’T. (For better or worse).

The wrong reading of “All of This is Just to Get Girls to Like Me” is that I’m doing anything for that purpose. I’m not. What I am doing is being myself in the loudest manner possible. And I am hoping that these paintings, my writing, my BEHAVIOR, and my style will act as a BEACON to the girls that are already predisposed to finding them attractive. My hope is that all of these things provide a SHORTCUT to girls seeing who I am and what I’m about. 

I gotta say: it sure felt like it was a more effective tactic when I was doing this 10 to 12 years ago. My whole SCHTICK is not as attractive at 39 as it was at 28. But that’s okay. I’m a victim of ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT. That’s what addiction does to you. I’m also a victim of PUNK ROCK and its attendant Peter Pan Syndrome. I likely always will be.

Which is ALSO OKAY. As much as I sometimes get down on myself, I fucking like me. I THINK I’M SUPER COOL (and definitely still REALLY, REALLY PUNK).

When the time is right, the right girl will come along, see, and appreciate that too. ‘Cause I’m not super interested in girlS anymore. I want THE girl. (Even if I don’t know who she is yet).

Speaking of which, the text that’s actually in the painting reads:

ALL OF THIS IS JUST TO GET GIRLS TO LIKE ME
(More precisely, a girl. The right girl).

Do you THINK I’M SPECIAL YET? Do you wanna be my girlfriend now?

(Can’t you tell how thoughtful I am?
Don’t you hear THE MOUNTAIN GOATS SONG I’ve got playing?)

And then, written on the side of the canvas:

So I decided to cannibalize my own idea. One of my next paintings was gonna be called: “Girls Don’t Like Boys, Girls Like Weed and Target.” But let’s be real – that’s ‘cause it would SELL. There’s no EMOTIONAL TRUTH in that. So, instead, I made it part of this painting by filling space with Target logos and pot leaves. And now I can joke that it’s SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING.”

I advertise the borderline personality disorder diagnosis all the time, but I also suffer from a really serious disorder that CAUSES ME TO THINK I’M FUNNY. With god’s help, maybe one day they’ll find the cure.

  1. I don’t think it’s fair to direct this at Jon, but a PARTICULAR SONG comes to mind. ↩︎

It’s been 19 months since I got clean and almost a year since I crept out from the shadows and rejoined the world. Everything’s gone really well for me in that time. But I’m older than I was in ROUND ONE of my art career and Sammy thrashLife feels even sillier to me now than when I first jokingly coined it. So I’m in the process of “rebranding” with my real name.

The new logo, which only took two hours to make. (Not impressed?? Are you suggesting it shouldn’t take me that long to write my own name??)

I think I fell into a trap where I thought everything about me needed to pull focus. That I needed every element of my presentation to cast out a line to hook someone. “I have borderline personality disorder. I used to manage with heroin. Now I make art instead.” That’s all true but maybe I don’t need to LEAD with the backstory. Maybe I should let my art speak for itself. (IT CERTAINLY HAS PLENTY TO SAY). And then if people are interested, they can discover the rest.

So I’ve launched samnorth.art (and samnorthart.com, for anyone whose brain just CAN’T HANDLE a dot-art url) and will be building those out soon. And I’m gonna phase out “Sammy thrashLife” on all my banners, fliers, social media, etc.

The new site may not have a blog or a webstore. It’ll still have the statements for each painting and drawing but they’ll likely be a little more tucked away, rather than the focus. If I’m being HONEST, all of these changes are aimed at the way I’m perceived by high end galleries and collectors. I’ve got no interest in changing my artwork, changing my personality, or changing my BEHAVIOR, but if some minor adjustments to my presentation help to get me taken more seriously: COOL.

If that at all concerns you, please know that I wrote the statement for another painting last night, it directly addressed my desire to be “taken more seriously,” and yet I STILL COULDN’T HELP MYSELF from making it as raw, as fucking ridiculous, and as embarrassing as anything I’ve ever made. So much so that I’m nervous to share it. So if you’re a fan of all this, exactly as it is – don’t fret; Sam North is very much the exact same artist and writer as Sammy thrashLife.

My grandpa died today

September 17, 2025

I share a LOT of my life through my art and through social media (which – whether art-related or not) I consider to be for the purposes of promoting my art. There’s one part of my life that I rarely, if ever, touch upon and it’s a pretty big part of my life. It’s the reason I’m still in Sarasota.

My grandparents moved to Sarasota to be closer to their eldest child, my dad. And then, shortly thereafter, my dad suddenly died. That left me as their only relative in the area. I’d never been particularly close with my grandparents (I’ve not even been particularly close with my parents) but when my dad died, I decided that I should try to be closer with my grandparents. So I started seeing them every week. Then twice a week. And – in times when something was wrong – everyday. 

Maybe I haven’t shared that because it conflicts with the ORPHAN IMAGE / ABANDONED BY WOLVES narrative that I’ve clung to my whole life. Maybe it just felt uncomfortable to include them in my story and my work when they aren’t of an age where they’d even be aware of it or know how to feel about/comprehend it, even if I tried to explain it to them. To this day, I’m still not sure they really understand my life. 

You guys remember when I made a series of vague posts about being overwhelmed and “the world beating the shit out of me” last month? (The first video was the one where I noted that a HAMMER had even hit me in the head?) Well those were really about shit going in with my grandparents. I had to continually postpone my outta state trip, cutting down 5 weeks to just 17 days by the time I actually left – at which point things seemed mostly okay.

When I got back last week, things were less okay. And today, my grandpa died. I was prepared for it. I knew it was coming. But not now. Not today. I thought he still had a couple weeks in him. And, honestly, I thought he’d likely hang on even past that – past the point when it made any sense. That did not happen.

I think I’m dealing with it pretty well. Not well enough to make a video without crying but – Y’KNOW – I’m not in PERPETUAL anguish. I am only INTERMITTENTLY crying.

I wanna say a few things about my grandpa in recognition and appreciation of the life he lived.

He spent his life as a criminal defense attorney and he FUCKING LOVED IT. His idea of fun was to go sit in courtrooms and just watch the mundane/daily courtroom shit that happened.

I didn’t go to law school to make him proud. I didn’t give my family a single thought when I made that decision. But he WAS proud. And when I graduated by the skin of my teeth, strung out on heroin – taking my exams at the absolute last minute long after everyone else (thanks to special arrangements made by the school registrar who was sympathetic to my addiction) I didn’t find out I’d passed my exams until about 36 hours before the ceremony. He was on a plane as soon as he found out. I didn’t walk high school or college graduations but I did that one for him.

I don’t remember if he even knew yet that I was a drug addict. My dad might have given him some other reason why we didn’t know about my grades or whether I’d be graduating until the last minute. But he knew by the end of that same year. And he paid to put me in one of the best inpatient dual diagnosis/rehab facilities in the country. 

The painting I’m working on right now is called POOR FOREVER. And it’s not about being poor forever, it’s about the attitude I have about money and how frugal I am because I don’t want to be POOR FOREVER. I don’t often spend money lightly. That comes from him by way of my dad. My dad kinda was poor forever. But my grandpa made a good living but still chose to live as if he didn’t. But when it came to getting treatment for his shitty drug addict grandson who hardly ever called, that all went out the window. He SPENT THE MONEY.

And then five weeks later I got kicked out of treatment. And two days later, he paid ANOTHER (expensive) facility to take me. And then five weeks later, that one kicked me out too. And then I ran the streets for a few months, being a drug-addled, dishonest fuck up until I broke down crying, on a bench, on the side of the road, in the rain. And then he paid a THIRD rehab to take me. 

Seven weeks later, can you guess what happened? I GOT KICKED OUT. But this time, something in me was a little different. And I worked to convince them to take me back. And when they agreed to it two weeks later, my grandpa dropped thousands of dollars AGAIN to get me readmitted. He spent thousands of dollars to get me checked in FOR THE FOURTH TIME. I stayed for 8 months. And while I can’t say that I’ve stayed clean ever since, it was what I learned in that last stint of treatment that’s the reason for the clean time that I got upon leaving and any/all of the clean stints I’ve had since, including these last 17 months.

As WE ALL KNOW – I am IMPERVIOUS TO DEATH/CANNOT BE KILLED, but (dropping my shtick for a minute) it’s super unlikely that I’d still be breathing if not for him.

These last few years, his Parkinson’s has fucked up his brain and dementia has taken over. A lot of my time with him has not been of a super high quality. I didn’t really get to know him and he didn’t really get to know me as much as I’d have liked. But – if nothing else – I know he appreciated the way I’ve shown up for him and my grandma (to whom he was married for SEVENTY FIVE YEARS). And I know he loved me.

One last thing about my grandpa. It’s a story I only heard recently. One year, he had a client who was sitting in jail simply because he couldn’t afford the bail. It wasn’t a major crime or an expensive bail but it was still more than this guy could swing. This was right before Christmas and – though my grandpa was Jewish – that still didn’t sit right with him. It’s illegal for lawyers to pay for their clients’ bail (for a number of reasons I won’t get into) so there was nothing he could do about it himself. So he went into every synagogue in the area and told them, “Hey – please post bail for this guy and I will make a donation to your synagogue for the amount of the bail and then some. And then when he shows up to his court date, you’ll even get that money back.” None of the synagogues would do it. So he went around to all of the churches in the area until he finally found one that took him up on his offer. All so this random low-paying (possibly never-paying) client wouldn’t be locked up over the holidays. That’s the kind of person he was.

The world is worse off for having lost him, but it’s much better for having him. The positive impact he had will carry on in more ways than I will ever even know. He was 96 years old.

Herbert North (1929-2025)

news, gratitude, coupon, ETCETERA

April 14, 2025

‘Tis a sad, sad day for Sammy thrashLife collectors. The original “I’m a Fucking Artist, Guys” drawing is officially OFF THE MARKET. 

I’ll confess that I did come down from the $1,000 asking price but I assure you it still sold for enough to enrage anyone upset by outlandish prices for scribbles on scrap paper. 😝

THAT SAID, this is the drawing featured on all my cards and fliers (arguably my TRADEMARK DOODLE), it was one of the very first things I ever made on my own (as opposed to – at gunpoint – in expressive art therapy group), and I think it’s as close to a HISTORICAL ARTIFACT as anything I’ve ever made so… I’m both happy that it’s found a home and a little sad to see it go.

Also sold this weekend: another piece that means a whole, whole lot to me (and had actually been sold once before but came back to me through A SERIES OF WACKY CIRCUMSTANCES): “Have Sex with and/or Buy Art from Me” – arguably the best/most accurate piece I ever made about my self-esteem and the subject of VALIDATION.

Prints of both (plus much more) still available in my webstore.

The last couple months have been especially great and I just wanna, again, thank everyone that’s been so supportive. It was exactly one year and one week ago that I tried to kill myself because I couldn’t imagine my life ever getting back to (essentially) where I am today. I’ve still not proved myself wrong on my 2016/2017 theory that my life peaked in 2013-15 and I’d never again be that happy or successful, but I certainly seem to be ON THE PATH and, for the first time in years, I think it might be possible.

my current work-in-progress – not done yet but getting CLOSE

Small aside: I recently got pro panels/pop-up walls so that I could show at art festivals (and use them at my little weekend/pop-up events) but I’ve already put them in storage because I only currently have three unsold originals that aren’t currently up on display somewhere (I’ve got nothing to hang on my walls!) It’s not a bad problem to have.

And if you’d like to exacerbate that problem by purchasing one of them, you know how to reach me.

“Peeing in the Pool (of Tears (You’re Drowning In))” 1/4/25. Acrylic paint. 18×24″
Apparently Proverbs 5:19 says: “Like a loving doe and a graceful mountain goat, Let her breasts satisfy you at all times; Be exhilarated always with her love.” So… Christianity is fucking weird, you guys. Then again, I sure could go for a nice girl with ]THE GRACE OF A MOUNTAIN GOAT and, like, really cool tits. Anyone know how I’d go about getting baptized?
“”Christian Love (The Grace of a Mountain Goat)” 10/22/24. Pigment and alcohol inks. 8½x11″.
“The World Revolves Around Me.” 8/21/15. Acrylic paint. 4×4′.

And just ’cause, let’s say $20 off in the webstore this week when you spend $50 or more. Use promo code STLapril.

Thanks as always for your time and attention. You guys are the best.

Creative Solution

April 4, 2025

Even as a late addition (mere days before opening), I was HONORED to be invited to exhibit my work at THE RINGLING MUSEUM.

And then – two days later (and just one day before my art needed to be delivered and hung on the walls) – I was told that I’d been added TOO LATE for any of my art to be LABELED.

I understand that an institution like the Ringling is BOGGED DOWN IN BUREAUCRACY but I would also think that meeting the highest standards of presentation is a priority.

I’m deeply hopeful that there’s been a misunderstanding. Maybe labels just couldn’t be ready for the opening but they’ll be added shortly thereafter. The exhibit runs for FOUR MONTHS so there’s certainly no shortage of time. But tonight (Thursday, April 3rd) – the night before I deliver my artwork – I can’t count on that. Tonight, I don’t know if they’ll resolve the issue themselves or even if they’ll allow me to pay to have my own labels made (and put up). Tonight, I need a CREATIVE SOLUTION. And this is what I came up with:

It may be too late for them to print labels – and I’m not allowed to put up any signs or leave any fliers, but I do have the ability to include among my pieces something that I just created tonight – something with the express purpose of EXPLAINING WHO I AM and WHICH ART BELONGS TO ME.

“Creative Solution.” 4/3/25. Alcohol and pigment inks. 7×5″.

So if you’re reading this, you either follow my blog already or YOU’VE JUST SEEN MY LATEST DRAWING (“Creative Solution”) at the Ringling and entertained your curiosity by scanning the QR code that I drew into it. And (for the sake of the latter group), please allow me to INTRODUCE MYSELF.

My name is Sammy thrashLife. I have borderline personality disorder. I used to manage with heroin. Now I make art instead.

I was unknown to this exhibit’s curators when the show was initially booked. (In fact, I was likely not even back to making art yet; that’s a fairly recent development). But when another artist dropped out, I was brought in. If my understanding is correct, I have more work in this exhibit than any other artist. In any case, I’ve submitted nine pieces, including what I believe will be the two largest in the gallery. Hopefully, they all made it up onto the walls. They are:

Each of the above links will take you to a blog post in which you can read the full story of that painting (or drawing). Here’s an image gallery to help you identify all of my work in the show:

“The Boy Nobody Wanted Wins the Super Bowl” 7/26/24. Acrylic paint. 36×36″.
“Everything Works Out Exactly as It Should (is Something I’ve Been Trying to Get Myself to Believe Again)” 3/16/25. Acrylic paint and pigment ink. 40×40″.
“I Look Cool Doing It.” 2/21/14. Acrylic paint. 18×24″.
“She’s Cut with Xylazine” 9/29/2024. Acrylic paint. 24×20″.
“Stupid Kids With Stupid Dreams” 6/27/20. Acrylic paint. 24×24″.
“Peeing in the Pool (of Tears (You’re Drowning In))” 1/4/25. Acrylic paint. 18×24″
“I’m Sorry.” 12/26/13. Pen and markers. 6½x9½”.
“Common Denominator.” 8/12/24. Acrylic paint and pigment ink. 8×10″.
“Creative Solution.” 4/3/25. Alcohol and pigment inks. 7×5″.

Thanks so much for your time and attention. I hope you enjoy my work. You can read more of my story here or just PERUSE THE SITE TO YOUR HEART’S CONTENT. Any questions, feel free to contact me.

And if anyone from the Ringling is reading this, PLEASE DON’T BE MAD at my innovative work-around. As I’ve said many times, “I’m an emotional basketcase. Paints and pens are the tools I use to balance myself out.” It was so exciting to learn that my work would be going up in the Ringling. I’m sure you can imagine how upsetting it was to learn, just two days later, that none of it would have my name on it. I was anxious, I was crawling out of my skin; “Creative Solution” is how I made myself feel better. If that’s not exactly what art should be (in addition to – y’know – visually pleasing and EMOTIONALLY RESONANT, insightful, or otherwise profound) then… we’re just at odds fundamentally and … fuck ME. But hopefully we’re ALL IN AGREEMENT, in which case I thank you for including me and thank you for including CREATIVE SOLUTION.

I wrote this blog entry earlier tonight and just finished up the drawing around 1am. For those of you who are reading this because you follow me and NOT because you stumbled onto my work at the Ringling. I guess this is as a good a time as any to announce that – HEY, I GOT BOOKED AT THE RINGLING MUSEUM. The opening reception is going to be next Thursday, April 10th. All the details are on the Events page. You’ll also find that I’ve added a bunch of other events for April so COME OUT AND CATCH ME. Cool?

COOOOOOL.

(Love you all).

So I Just Put This in My Head and the Blood Will Come Out?

November 15, 2024

“MFC 2.0″ 11/8/24. Pigment ink. 8×6”.

I have a lot of artwork from ten plus years ago (when I first started making art) that I still love conceptually but just looks terrible. I never liked the idea of recycling ideas but so much of that early stuff is still so exciting and meaningful to me and I hate the idea of just letting it disappear. At the same time, I certainly don’t wanna promote or advertise anything that looks bad or doesn’t represent me well. That line of thinking’s led me to reconsider my previous stance and become okay – even passionate – about the idea of taking some of my old concepts and making new artwork with them. One of those is already in the works as a major painting (and you can get a look at that process over on my TikTok) while others will be coming soon.

Speaking of TikTok, if you’re not already following me on there, I’ve been making four to seven videos for it every week – and have even started livestreaming on occasion. I know a lot of people have issues with TikTok (I certainly did/do) but if you wanna keep up with my process, I think it’s worth checking out.

Anyway, the drawing in today’s blog isn’t really a recycled idea because it’s more of an exact duplicate. There’s nothing wrong with the original “My Favorite Cartoon” but I want to make prints of it and don’t have a good photo or scan of the original from which to make them. All I’ve got is badly filtered, altered versions from Photoshop. Since I don’t wanna make prints from those, I simply redrew it.

For a more meaningful story, you can read the story behind the original drawing in my blog entry from August 22nd, 2013.

And if you want one of these prints, they’re now up for sale in my webstore. Or you can buy this “original” MFC 2.0 drawing by contacting me. (It’s since been sold).

Thanks as always for your time and attention. Your support means everything to me.

contact issues (last week or so)

November 5, 2024

Just a quick heads up: I discovered an issue with the contact page. If you’ve tried to contact me recently, I’m guessing it didn’t work. Anyway, it’s resolved now so – if you still need to reach me – NOW YOU CAN.

And SO LONG AS I’M POSTING AN UPDATE, I’ll mention that I now hate all social media EXCEPT FOR TIKTOK. I’ve been making a new video for it almost every single day for the last month, so if you wanna keep up with me, that’s now the best place to do so. Instagram and especially Facebook can fuck off forever. (DON’T GET ME STARTED).

I’ve been hard at work on a BRAND NEW PAINTING so I’ll update the blog when that’s finished or when I next write up a statement for one of the pieces that’s still missing one. In the meantime, like I said, FOLLOW ME ON TIKTOK. TIKTOK IS THE FUTURE. TIKTOK IS LIFE. ALL HAIL TIKTOK.

Oh – and today was my birthday. So go buy me/you a present in the print shop!

Love you all. TALK SOON.

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