popurls found

3 sketchbooks: 1 lost winter 2002-possibly stolen
2 lost undetermined
(1 car accident/1 titanium addition, 2 weeks of painkillers)
1 external hard drive stolen from box sent u.s. mail w/0ut insurance
and 3 5x7 in. oil paintings somewhere between knoxville and atlanta
I hate losing things in the nature of the beast
goodbye things, stop haunting my dreams

december last year

a cool drink 2008
c-print

g spt. grove shaking off july

untitled tonight infiltration
7.5x9 ft.
oil on canvas november 2009

this is a 3x5 ft. detail... unfortunately, the proportions are slightly off cause it was taken pointing upward at the paintin.
the head looks all little pinnish & legs all coltish; my legs could never be that long, lol!: the reference for the figure is a photo of myself posing pixie at the g-spot (as us locals say) in the smoky mountains of east tennessee.

poikila

“Antiquity ascribed to [Simonides] the famous remark, ‘Painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks.’ This is a stimulating comparison, for painting is a technique that calls on the intellectual quality Empedocles calls metis, professional know how and an indissociable magical kind of skill. A painter brings together various colors, and from these inert materials he creates figures the Greeks describe as poikila; flickering, many-colored, living things. For an entire tradition, painting was an art of illusions, ‘trickery."
-Marcel Detienne, The Masters of Truth in Archaic Greece (Hyperion Art Journal)

closing

and the show must go on...
at least for one more night.
come Sat. Dec. 12th
121 S. Gay St.
approx. 6-9pm
call if you have questions,
(865) 206 6190
be there or be square

report and subsidment

Hello again,
nice to see you smiling at my face.
the show was good, drank too much,
didn't know that I was saying just what came to mind.
This town makes me smaller and bigger at the same time.
My father was there,
he's so happy these days, talking his trains and
my litttle brother, all of four now.
My mother made food,
my sister, tipsy,
forgot to cut out the cores,
but the apples were still tart and crispy.
Most apt comments of convex curvatures,
and lots of apropos praise. But,
that was already days ago, and of no significance now.
Yesterday, a South Knox Sunday,
hugging not-blood nephews
with scabies and scabbardless swords,
talking, fencing, avoiding elephants.
Waking on Monday to jump, grimacing,
the complexities of the closeness of cunt's hairs,
(a Deadwood term)
the sadness of could-haves and perhaps.
And to map the next distracting projects.
Cat in lap, i map.

sneak preview

Come to the show tonight! I'll be having a closing
on Sat. Dec 12th, if you read this and are already late.

shaky ground
55x61"
oil on canvas december 2009