Well, here's a good point to pick up.

Gosh I haven't used this thing really since I got facebook. And whether or not I am going to delete it remains undetermined, though highly possible, I realize that if I am going to spend extra time everyday primping and priming myself as portrayed on the internet, I should at least use it more for something like this than Facebook. You know, EVERY SINGLE THING... not most things, but everything; every single word, picture, bit of information, and so on, is held within the memory of a super computer directly feeding from that website. There is no complete privacy... maybe from other users like yourself... but as for the owners of the companies and those who pay good money and invest quite well into this arena, including the sick bastards who run our country..well, they have full access to that shit just as they can tap our phones and records.

So anyway, I've spent the past week in the OHSU hospital.. and a good deal of time doing nothing but writing. I will have a lot to put into this blog over the next week... but in the mean time, I'd actually just like to post an assignment I did for an art class... it follows the same format of a famous poem called "I am for an Art."

I did this assignment under the direct pretense of this unfortunate condition. When you're writhing in pain for a week straight from a cave of a hospital room with dying people all about you in a half school/half medical facility full of contradictions on top of a mountain away from your loved ones and the true (and/or illusory) societal realities, it's hard not to seriously and honestly think about that which is most important to not only you, but your own health, and even the health of a public and it's consciousness.

I am for art which attempts to destroy anything against the pureness of expression.



I am for art that doesn’t limit the potential for communication; to go beyond the boundaries of language.



I am for art which grants me the time and space to observe my surroundings, environments (both static and tangible), and under a realistic pretense; not under the hyper-reality created by mankind.



I am for art that remains out of filthy and corrupted hands.



I am for art as lived experience.



I am for art that deviates from the naturalization of perception.



I am for art that keeps me thinking beyond the expectations of banalities and societal norms.



I am for art that can give grounds to revolution.



I am for art that attempts to dismantle the convolution s of everyday life.



I am for art that can sing you to sleep.



I am for art that can sing you awake.



I am for art that provokes the skepticism for all reason and truth.



I am for art that keeps me safe from my sane self and insane to others.



I am for art that teaches what words cannot.



I am for art that can be insurrectionary.



I am for art that can make disorder out of imposed order.



I am for art that exudes blood and guts.



I am for art that gives me the means to reflect on the evolution of a conscious person.



I am for art that can portray the absurd while exposing the falsity of the real.



I am for art largely as a contribution to my own social survival.



I am for art that may possibly reach even a single other person, even if I never physically do.



I am for art as an extension of one’s own consciousness.



I am for art that does not adhere to any systematic belief system or any system of strict governance.



I am for art that defines existence for an individual.



I am for art that can speak to a person, like a conversation with a stranger of whom you’ll never forget and may never meet again, and becomes an influential memory on the creation of that individual’s future existence yet to be unfolded.



I am for art as a weapon, not a commodity.



I am for art which sits in harmony with all of the beauty of nature and all of the wreckage of corruption.



I am for art that does not have a face, but has a soul.



I am for art that remains detached from its creator.



I am for art that can take on myriad meanings depending on the settings of which it is placed.



I am for art that disregards imperfections in a deliberate regards to disregard.



I am for art that does not completely take itself seriously while taking its potentiality with the utmost seriousness.



I am for art that is of the artists and not of the cogs of capitalism.



I am for art that has no beginning and no end, but may suggest a certain experience within the definitions of time and existence.



I am for art that can move mountains.



I am for art that has the strength of a million humans.



I am for art that is as fragile as human existence.



I am for art that scoffs in the face of the fear of the look-in-the-other.



I am for art that is as ethereal as the last breath upon the rattle of death.



I am for art that is not obvious and has the potential to stop or slow time, if even for a fraction of a second.



I am for art that does not fear nor protect itself from destruction.



I am for art that never fully defines itself.



I am for art that helps me learn about myself, from myself, about others, and from others.



I am for art that won’t let anything ever stand in its way.



I am for art that contributes to my willingness to stay alive.

4 am sleep-writing

An artist is a person who hones acute skills and abilities of perception and acts upon them in such a manner that they themselves become a watermark upon a period of human existence. The purpose is not to create a grand masterpiece, but to render and produce with such a frequency that the art becomes larger than the life of the artist... that then becomes the masterpiece.

bleh

Uncontrollable mood swings. Lots of them. I can't fight them. And with them comes the crippling lack of creativity. Self-loathe and lethargy. Too much time on my hands can capsize self imposed structure and ambition. And most of what I have produced lately seems to me a failure, or a faint voice at best. Days and nights are quick. I shower every morning, and under the teeming water I feel as if I was just there. The shower has always been a time for me to sort out my thoughts, plan my day, and reflect on my past-doings. Lately I just feel a premeditated defeat for the day... I know I will come up empty handed before I retire for the night. I'm wading in stagnancy. I am not necessarily pessimistic for my future both near and far, but I'm bereft of any enthralling optimism at the moment. I mull over plans to work on many different projects, but I hardly find the motivation to act upon them. I feel trapped. I look at the stray cat I have recently been taking care of. And I relate all too well with him. He yearns to be outside, to roam and chase everything boundlessly at free will. He sits at the window, he sleeps too much, and he meows every here and there at the door. I want to let him loose, but he comes back after a day with hunger and curiosity. And then he gets stuck with us again. This cycle of banal predictability just feels all too familiar and I need to pull myself from this incapacitating flypaper. It should be a simple mind shift from introverted self-pity back to confidence and being constructively focused. It's always easier said than done, as they say. But I think I just need more time to myself, to really figure out how I've derailed and how easy it really is to step back into full swing.

The ebb and flow of recent productivity has been very temperamental, to say the least. Some days I've written song after song, made painting after painting, and some days I've just loafed like a drunken sloth. Regardless, a couple of things I have had to focus on is writing lyrics for songs; both for my band Carrion Spring, and my own solo material. My solo material was also fleshed out with my brother and some other good friends, Lee (who also plays in Carrion Spring) and Richard. We've played 2 shows as a band, and seems to have had a surprisingly decent response. Last Thursday's Alberta Art Walk is tomorrow, and now, of course, as usual, am madly trying to produce a couple of more pieces of art. I'm completely broke, and though my parents are considering lending me this month's rent, I still would rather sell some work and do it myself. So, looks like I now embark on a frantic all-nighter.
Which, I should no longer procrastinate. So, without any further ado, here are some recent Carrion Spring lyrics, follow by some of my solo lyrics. I am starting to not completely hate what I write... I think.

Carrion Spring lyrics.

Hemhorrage
All this murk we're drownin in
a hemhorrage from leeches rotting on the wounds of cankered institutions.
so futile a tourniquet.
Become decrepit, every sinew.
every cog is rusting.
seams are ripping.
artificial selection
natural retaliation.

abandoning all stations
won't ever stop the bleed of these machines


acutely distort imminent disasters
to keep us calm before the storm.

Year of the Carrion
Glowing display radiates existence
to cleanse the mind
give life to dead time.
Still so lost, and getting worse with every minute
but we won't see it
through our own
reflections
so pathetic
to see that we are
locked up from the outside in
This womb is a graveyard
under a ton
of napalm
set ourselves ablaze

bring some light to an age so dark.
set ourselves
ablaze.


Troll's Toll
Fallen all the faculties, a pile on the floor
the death of an accomplice.
The shame if he knew of the blood on his hands
hung weary and limply
like flesh on a hook
and not even a soul glances at all.
Memories of stillborn inceptions
are burning at the stake.

Dancing around
choking on the ashes
Stumbling, falling
choking down the ashes
Collapsing
sow in the soil.


and here are some lyrics for my own solo material.

At Home
Oh this city is a wreck
but under the filthy haze
I tend to find myself at home

Trapped by the weight of an empty gun
waiting on a train
that hasn't run for years and years
the coal has all been burned
said she won't ever return
the rust is way too much for her to bear

In someways it's comforting to know
these covered tracks remain unknown
This blanket of ashes keeps me warm
Or so I tell myself she said.


The letters I write pile up
cause I haven't got a stamp
but they help make me feel
at home.

The dogs keep scratching at the door
and the lock ain't holdin up
The radio has lost all but one
station that plays the same
songs every night and day
the rust is way too much for me to care

In someways it's comforting to know
these covered tracks remain unknown
This blanket of ashes keeps me warm
Or so I tell myself, I know.

The wounded bird that's taken in
won't ever fly again.
won't ever fight again.


These Bloody Days
I'm tryin to be
as best as I can
even with these blood soaked sheets
but baby I swear I've enough to spare

So let these guts spill out all over the tile floor
it's enough to build a whole new man

I know it takes sometime to find how lost we really are
but I don't mind the trip as long as you know

how fucked we really are
maybe now's the time for me to mention to you
That I don't fear no death
and I don't fear no love
keeps it so damned hard to make these promises.

But even though sometimes my words are better than my actions
and the more you give the less I'll make of myself

I can not say the sober life is always best for me
but sometimes things fall into place in spite of

How fucked we really are
maybe now's the time for me to mention to you
That I don't fear no death
and I don't fear no love
keeps it so damned hard to make these promises
that i am hoping I will hold
i'm stickin to my guns
even though i'm running out of shells
And every now and then i feel
trapped between the past
and the times that I may still have
but for now
what we got will stay with me for good.


The Flood
I hear the wind scrapin' along the fence.
I seen better men than I left in the dust
ashes to rust.
The sun has been pouring rain for days and days.

Here comes the flood.
Stay afloat.

Says "soon there'll be change..."
it keeps them up on the fence.
Says "their used to it..."
as their singin' along
casual songs
songs for killing time
not the kind that will move mountains.

Here comes the flood.
Stay afloat.

Oh, our broken hearts can sing us back to life.

Glow
When the tide breaks low
I will cut the line.
Hangin off the moon
swingin' side to side.
Drowinin' in the glow
among the fire flies.

Don't go to far down now
the pressure could be all too much
for this air so thin.

Only half awake
far from piece of mind.
Sending up the flares
budding in the sky.
Staying hard to find
left me high and dry.

Don't go to far down now
the pressure could be all too much
for this air so thin.

Thats my nutz!

NBD

'nother new one. S'ok, I guess.

WTF!?

New piece of a small series, exploring the use of acronyms created by socializing through digital technology. more to come.




Perfect weather hits Portland again. Today was a good balance of chillaxing while being simultaneously productive. into it. Went down to the waterfront with the lady during sunset and watched fish jump out of the water. And lately the air around the neighborhood where my studio is has been hella dank with fumes of hops and barley from the nearby brewery. I am developing a palette for the smell. I am sure someday it'll end up being quite a nostalgic smell.

Current mindstate: Ice cream coma

I haven't even the excuse of a sweltering summer to justify my lethargy and neglect of updating my artwork online. Been busy, in a way... making music and art. Nothing that brings home the blocks of cheddar, of course. Rent has been a struggle, and actually I been hardly scraping by. I feel like I am stuck in the summer of 2002 again. Hopefully I can hang on until student financial aid disbursement.
The first half of summer has been pretty outrageous... there have been quite a number of house shows, mainly of friends and such. There have been several shorter road trips, many parties, my birthday, many guest couch surfers, among many other eventful things worth mentioning, but just not in this post. I'll do that within the next day or so. Until then, I'll just post a few freshly new, and some fairly new pieces of art. Bueno.

Medicate. Manipulate. Annihilate.

Sardines

Entropics of Love

Title Bout


Copy of a Rembrandt drawing for a class

Boat on the Columbia River
The Columbia River

Hippie bum with Devil Sticks on the waterfront

Unframed

I have not written a song with just me and my acoustic guitar in a really long time... since September, I believe. Maybe playing with my band Carrion Spring had me satisfied for a while... i guess. Anyway, I wrote a new song, and am excited to write more. The lyrics ain't nothing special, just stoked to have something new.

'cause in my head it's all been said
I feel I'm lost, my dues ain't paid
i can't break the guilt, the shame
that I may remain here.

stuck between these doors, I fold
never try to kick them open
what lies behind the mask
oh, a disgrace.

I don't want to play the camera
just want to be without a frame.


Held my words and all my sins
and killed a man, it's all the same
One to the heart one to the brain
forever remain here.

Broken shelves crushed under all
of 20-something years I've drawn
never drew myself out from
underneath this shell.

And I was right that you wrong
what's the use anymore.

'cause in my head it's all been said
I feel I'm lost, my dues ain't paid
and i can't break the guilt, the shame
that I will remain here.

I don't want to play the camera
just want to be without a frame.



So my current drawing teacher has had me study old masters by drawing their work... specifically the last few weeks, Rembrandt. It is actually quite fun and I feel like I am learning a lot from it. Maybe I'll post some photos of them in the future.
K I have a shit ton of work to catch up on.

Chongo sad...

Piece for the Love show.
xo

New shits

Two new paintings which are currently hung along with a grip of other works at a downtown gallery space called Slinde Nelson.
I been having this problem lately where I stupidly fall asleep around 8 or 9 and wake up 11 pm. And can't go back to sleep. And now I am wired. How ridiculous.

Cleanly boys don't misbehave.

Power lines and bird flocks. Powerful.
New art studio rules so hard. I love being in there more than anywhere else right now. Or being outside of it. Ever 20 minutes or so trains barge on by. Sometimes they are super long and full of the dopest graffichi. Off in the distance, no matter what time day or not, there is always the clanking and electric humming of machines near the water front. The feeling of being down in that crazy industrial park is awesomely interesting. It reminds me of industrial Brooklyn, but more isolated.
Next week is mid-term week and apparently I don't give a shit. Am I losing my shine as a sterling student? I sure hope not. I just hope I don't reach that level of desperation where one seeks Adderall. Shiieeeeeeeeeeeeet.

Oooh wah oooh wah oooh wah...

In the brilliant words of the infamous Ice Cube, "I could'a said, today was a good day." I signed the lease of an art studio I am sharing with a friend of mine. The studio is right by the water front, nestled in an industrial area right off Interstate. The studio is shared with a wonderful carpenter, who uses the space for nothing more than storage for his wood shop gear. It is all set up and ready to use... I was even given permission to use his equipment, for real! I swear, he wrote it in the lease! It is in a warehouse, full of 60 creative studios. So fucking stoked.
Couple of weeks ago I hung some work at The Nest. I was told that the bartenders have been receiving lots of compliments about the work. What a pleasant thing to hear.
In 2 weeks I hang new work at another solo show downtown, some place called Slinde Nelson. I haven't seen the joint yet, but I am told it is huge and draws promising crowds. Movin' on upp!!
I am not the type of person to really ever show off some bull shit purchases I have recently made, but I somehow cannot resist.
First off, these bad boys should be coming in the mail tomorrow. Thems dudes is made from Bocote wood from Mexico. I dunno what Bocote is, but I like the looks of it.


I also just bought a Papasan chair. It like cuddling in an angel's womb. That desk I scored at the Goodwill bins for 7 bean, and the BRAND NEW Brother sewing machine sitting on top of it was a Christmas present from my brother... how about that.


Another Goodwill score was this sick little 90's stereo, and a dope, perfectly good Walkman with Auto-Reverse(!) which sits atop it. Also, there was a Ren and Stimpy sountrack, Sleater-Kinney, and Chet Baker cd find as well.


Last week I got 2 new tattoos... one big one, and one little one. The tattoos are pretty dry and slightly scabby. Excuse my current human condition.

Little one (Just the man-face in the moon; Horse and crossed arrows I got a year or 2 ago).



Big one.
The second one, is taken from the cover of Stop It!!'s album "Self Made Maps." D'Lacie, the artist at Optic Nerve who gave it to me, did a rad job on capturing it.


Today I drew a naked man for 3 hours in my Life Drawing class...which is completely typical. But, I arrived an hour later to my other drawing class, and we spent the next 3 hours drawing.. the same exact, naked man. Que fantastico...





The last photo was just some fuck around. They all suck anyway. But I am still excited about studying the human figure. I just found out today that the Life Drawing class I am in is 1 of 3 sequential classes. I had no idea it was 3 terms long! Excited.

I have lots of new sketches for paintings. I move all my art stuff tomorrow to the new studio and then I will make them paintings. Haven't been this fuckin amped in who knows the hell how long. It's like being 16 and my parents giving me my own car, but even more of a hedonistic dream come true.

Oh, last week, my band, Carrion Spring, added a new member, good friend Lee Ellis. We played at Rotture on Wednesday with Kid Crash, Total Bros, and Girlfriends. Everyone was cripplingly good. Lee makes us sound like a sick band now. I have a video of a new song from the show... I just need to learn how to re-format it. And then I'll post it on the world wide boards.

K I'ma go return fetal to my new papasan chair and watch the rest of Che.
Cosas son buenas hoy.