Lately I have been listening to only a select few bands, one of which is the spankin' new album by The Mercury Program, called Chez Viking, which is a beautiful album. Save for the first song, every song is absolutely amazing. Dudes ain't put out an album in over 5 years. The wait is worth it, no doubt. And lots of Ampere. And Born Against. That's bout it.
So last night I had been part of the Big 100 gallery here is Portland. It was a show with some big sponsorship and 100 artists. Each artist was given up to 20 free, donated canvases, each 8 x 8 inches. The evening was co-sponsored by one of the major Radio Stations, KBOO. A lot of fuckin people went. I got good and drunk. I then went to a sick house show party. Just after, I found that my room mate John Gee's car had been broken into and my book bag, along with his as well, were among the only things to have been lifted from the vehicle. That bag had my mole skin journal, my vinyl bag full of almost all my art pencils and pens, a Pendleton flannel (which was hand woven right here in Portland, Oregon), a can of Police grade mace, a Hardcore mop marker, pair of gloves, my favorite hat, a water bottle w/carabeener handle, and bottle of my medication (for my intestinal illness). Losing the journal definitely sucks. The other shit, for the most part, is somewhat dispensable. I've pretty much accepted the loss. I have no choice but to convince myself it ain't that big of a deal. Humph. Here some photos of the paintings I did for the show.
Last week I had another show for Portland's First Thursday art walk. I contributed 3 pieces to a group show at the Anka Gallery of the Everett St. lofts. Only 2 made it on the wall. I think the owner is probably a cunt rag from LA and she thinks she can depict good art from bad art. Reality check; the show was a benefit with over half of the sales of profit going straight to a benefit group, called Pear. What gall to not be grateful for the contribution of a ton of art to raise money. This ain't your superficial scene of floozy elites, honey. Here are the 3 paintings I made for this show.
The 3rd wasn't put up. Granted, it ain't that good, but that chick still sucks. The 2nd one is a portrait of Henry Miller.
Painting has been good. Sometimes it is good and goes all day and night, but sometimes it's a little slow coming along. Not so much as of recently. I have a solo show opening the last Thursday, New Year's Eve, at the Nest. I don't think it is anything to do backflips over, but I have some new stuff I am working on this week and if it all goes to plan, I may be pretty happy with the results.
Shit man, I've had a hell of a cough lately. It's dry, but it also feels like there is a bunch of penny tasting moisture in my chest as well. I don't like it. I've hardly even been smoking cigarettes as of the past few weeks, and it seems the problem may be beyond the effects of smoking. OR maybe not and I am losing my mind.
I've also been sleeping like crap lately. I fallen terribly into old habits of staying up till early morning, but waking up only a few hours later. Much of my day is a fog and I don't like that either.
So this morning I was taken to breakfast, ate a green chile breakfast, and was then taken to Columbia art store. A lady friend, whom I have been spending some time with as of late, had kindly brought me to the art store. To some extent, insisted on fronting me money for the purchase of most of the drawing supplies which had just been lost last night. She's recently taken me out for many breakfasts and dinners. Total sweetheart.
School ended early this week. Really, it was just the end of a Spanish class for me, which I think I did fairly well in. An independent study class was hardly any work at all. I just learned of a couple of artists that a teacher had shown to me, and he gave me a grade on those 10 little paintings I did. I totally ditched a printmaking class, and am now slightly regretful. I plan on writing the teacher an email tomorrow, and I plan on taking printmaking a little more seriously in the coming terms.
I may or may not be taking Spanish this coming winter term. I should, for this would be the beginning of 300 level. I shouldn't risk losing what I've learned this term, even if I haven't the greatest grasp on the language at the moment.
I got like a week to decide.
I want snow so fucking bad. Just to see it for a few minutes even seems but only a fair exchange to me for this weather. It's been slightly colder-than-normal temperatures, which isn't anything that unbearable, it's just that my room is so very poorly insulated, so I rely considerably on a little space heater. I wish I wasn't such a wuss because I'd deal with it, but drawing with cold, stiff fingers is quite a discouraging task.
I dream of someone renting me my own small, inexpensive studio. I'd cook them meals at least once a day, for the duration of the tenancy.
I've been reading a thick ass novel by Thomas Clayton Wolf, Look homeward, Angel. I had to put it down for a few weeks, especially during finals week, but I am picking it up again and it's a slow, but pretty good book. It's a pleasant reading, as is he a pleasant writer, to say the least.
Past few days I been mixing the Logs full length, a band a played drums in during my first year of living here. I recorded it over a year ago and have been totally irresponsible in mixing it. It's going to be such an unbelievable relief to send it off and out of my life, finally. I am getting a lot done and only have a little bit more to go.
Immediately after I have to finishing recording vocals and then mix my current band Carrion Spring's first release.
And then I should finish a better mix for my brother's band's recording.
And then I want to do a lot of 4-track tape recordings of the acoustic songs I wrote throughout this passed year. Why I let shit pile up I'll never know... I never really get to the opportunity to completely relax and worry about nothing at all during my school breaks. Maybe I am not the only one.
I've also just made an ode, than the next decently warm day I am going to put up few wheat pastes. And maybe dust off my camera and use it for once.
Oh, the close draws near of another year. Why must I always use new year's resolutions as an excuse to clean up my pathetic, procrastinated messes.