At War with God | 7-23-2026 | 12 x 36 in | acrylics and pigment ink on canvas
I’m so bored of explaining AT WAR WITH GOD.
It’s an absurd, amusing concept. If you believe in God, you believe he’s the all-powerful creator of all things. No one would GO TO WAR with something like that because you know you’d lose. Unless you’re fucking insane. In which case you’re probably not a functional human being with the discipline and organization to make a living as a full-time artist.
And yet people see this painting and get upset. Like it’s literal. Like I’m trying to RECRUIT THEIR CHILDREN AS FOOT SOLDIERS TO STORM THE GATES OF HEAVEN.
I don’t like authority. Words like “insubordinate” and “rebellion” are exciting to me. I like an underdog or a fun villain. And Leonardo is the worst ninja turtle. You know what makes for good characters? Flaws. God’s not interesting.
But when you make God relatable, bring him down to your level…
Cap’n Jazz sang “Hey, God – I dare you to SAY IT TO MY FACE?” Characterizing God as a petty coward who only talks his shit behind your back – SO MUCH FUN.
As much as I’d like to believe in God, I don’t. It’s just not in me. But it’s FUN TO PRETEND – to have him as a symbolic adversary.
The world’s never felt like it was designed for my success. Life’s often felt rigged against me. If God created this game I’m not meant to win, then every success is a skirmish I’ve won in my WAR WITH GOD.
Christians will say I’ve got it backward. My successes are God lifting me up.
Who cares?
Certainly not an all-knowing, all powerful God.
AJJ sang “My god thinks my jokes are funny.” Why wouldn’t he? Is God UPTIGHT? Is he too dull to have a sense of humor – or recognize when something is provocative but innocuous? Not a chance.
God’s benevolent. And a benevolent God doesn’t punish jokes or condemn his children to eternal suffering. And he certainly doesn’t condemn THIS CHILD.
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It’s probably a consequence of the specific “world” I grew up in but I don’t really know too many people who are succeeding. A lot of my friends struggle. Some aren’t especially happy.
I don’t envy my friends that put in 40 hours on shit they don’t particularly like, to make some dipshit (that’s dumber than they are) richer than they are.
And then they pay rent. To a LANDLORD. Because he owns the properties. Inherited, or bought with money most of us will never have.
The system is fucked. AND WE’RE (mostly) WHITE KIDS. (Or more recently/accurately, white “adults”). We’ve got SOME DEGREE OF PRIVILEGE.
Then again, like attracts like; my friends are like me. And being a working-class, too-smart-for-your-own-good basketcase isn’t exactly a recipe for UPWARD CLASS MOBILITY.
There’s this lyric: “the decks are stacked and the house always wins when the dealer’s crooked … but we’ve been counting cards. We’re fucking fed up; shit’s gone too far.”2
I love that line. The world’s gonna cheat us and we’ve still gotta play the hand we’re dealt, so fuck THEIR rules. We’ll play it our way, with every trick we’ve got.
I often describe my art career as “A PRETTY GOOD SCAM.” That’s honestly what it feels like.
I wake up every day and do whatever the fuck I want. I write about myself and paint funny facesin ridiculous colors – and then I getpaid for it. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor either. In the last year, I’ve loaned or given money to friends and family that have fucking jobs.
When I started down this path, I had zero technical ability as an artist (AND I’VE NOT GAINED MUCH SINCE THEN). I’ve refined my eye for color and composition, but what I have most of all is a personality, a worldview, and the ability and willingness to articulate it (in a way that other people find funny, insightful, and resonant). That’s been the key ingredient in my success. I’m the only person in the world who can do exactly what I do.
But my broken brain, personality, worldview, and INABILITY TO EVER SHUT THE FUCK UP also led me to heroin. And heroin has eaten years of my life and taken me to horribly traumatic places that I’d tell you about IF I WANTED TO START CRYING RIGHT NOW.
Ultimately, heroin led me to expressive art therapy. Which I hated because I was bad at it. But I really liked the way the other mental cases responded when it’d be my turn in group to talk about what I’d made. They laughed when I wanted. They were affected when I wanted. And they fed me praise.
Returning to the world, I needed an income, but I’d never successfully held a job. I’m INSUBORDINATE.
Though I didn’t have the first clue if it was even possible, or how to go about it, I decided to see if anyone would buy my art. Turns out it was possible right outta the gate.
Three years later, I experienced the worst trauma of my life, fell the fuck apart, relapsed for 8 years, and resigned myself to failure and addiction forever. Until my girlfriend decided the future might look better with someone else. So I got clean (TO SHOW HER) and started painting again. I anxiously anticipated it blowing up in my face, but didn’t know what else to do.
Wanna know the really fucked up part? A year and change later, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I wake up excited each day. I’m excited for the future.
Monday through Thursday is a lot of writing, inventory, accounting, logistics, booking, website and bus maintenance.
Friday through Sunday, I set-up a killer display of THE BEST FUCKING ART EVER MADE and I work on my latest painting while singing along to all my favorite punk rock, as strangers give me their money in exchange for the products of my mental illness, my personality, my traumas, and my victories.
A lot of my life’s been pretty miserable. I’ve got some dark stories. I’ve lived through dark YEARS.
But “The Luckiest Little Shit in the World” is a victory product. It’s a victory lap on 2025, when I relaunched my art career, killed it, and had a fucking blast. It’s really not even fair how much fun I’m having and how much the world rewards me for it. I really do feel like the luckiest little shit in the world.
FOR NOW. Fear and anxiety are never far from my mind. These good feelings are fairly new and I’m still sorta broken – I’m still me – and thank fucking god for that.
It’s the key ingredient.
I’m sure there’s some degree of recency bias, but this just might be my favorite thing that I’ve ever painted. I think I mentioned in my blog entry for “So Smart”3 that I had a sorta epiphany in October, when I realized that I was happier than I’ve ever been. That’s when I came up with the concept for this painting and I couldn’t wait to finish “So Smart” and get to this one. It pleases me to no end that it turned out every bit as well as I could’ve hoped.
Virtually all of this painting’s statement appears right on the canvas [starting in the square-headed, rainbow-toothed figure at the bottom left]. There’s some additional text scattered about too though. Some of it’s stuff that also appears in the statement/main body of text but some’s totally different. I’m not gonna transcribe all of it here but it includes:
Embarrassing, insecure, spur-of-the-moment journaling after two girls separately propositioned me, and how that felt validating even though there’s only one girl I really want attention from right now. (90% of this is written on the top edge of the canvas so can only be read from the actual painting).
The realization that I’ve somehow never had to get a job to pay bills.
The recognition that – even if you took away everything else that’s good in my life – the unreasonable amount of joy I get from miserable punk songs still gives me an unfair advantage (toward being happy) over everyone else on the planet.
“Is the universe FUCKING WITH ME or looking out for me by giving me two disappointing weekends right after I start a painting about how I’m SO GOD DAMNED #BLESSED?”
And some other random stuff about not making enough money – then immediately making more than enough money – plus some anxiety written in a moment when I stopped being stoked on this painting, thought it wasn’t gonna be good enough, only to quickly figure out how to make it better and get stoked on it again.
On Monday night, I was rejected for some group exhibition at a gallery, for which I’d thought I was a shoe-in because I’ve become too self-assured when it comes to my work. I wrote about that in more detail here.
Yesterday, I was accepted to (what I understand to be) an art festival held in particularly high-regard. I’m putting in applications to lots of similar events in the coming weeks. I’m excited to see how those all play out.
There’s a lot here that calls to mind earlier work. The other paintings featured in this blog entry are the ones with statements I’ve hyperlinked in the body of the text. ↩︎
The song I’m referencing is “Countin’ Cards” by Escape from the Zoo: ↩︎
Nope – it’s in the statement for “All the Time Lost,” which I’ve not yet published online. ↩︎
