Wow, it's been a while since I posted. The move of Tyler School of Art to Temple's main campus has zapped all of my energy and free time. However, as things slow down the free time increases. Hopefully, the posts become more regular again. I just wanted to throw in a photo from my archives. It's amazing that I have the associations to accumulate photos like this. But, I do. Militia training or gimp training, however you want to look at it. This is why terrorists must attack us from a distance- we Americans are plenty terrorist to scuffle against them.

A Knight's tour

Pete Shelly is a homosapien, too.

Sally Mann, Deep South #22

Sometimes it seems poignant where we draw our own influences. In 2006, I worked at Columbia Museum of Art as Assistant Preparator. During that time I hung a show of garden photographs, of which uncluding two Sally Mann photos: one of the Deep South series and the other of Edward James' surreal garden in Las Pozas, Mexico. Needless to say, I was blown away and my drawings have never been the same. They are very much graphite and charcoal interpretations of Mann's process in toned gelatin silver prints, but of my own subject also in Southern dialect.

The party at Frankford and Cottman Ave after the Phillies won the World Series: This may be the most incredible experience of my life. When do you ever get to pour into the streets, drink, shake hands, high five, and hug with complete strangers, your neighbors, and every other nutcase in a city? Needless to say, this party went into the wee morning hours and no one wanted to go home.

Early renderings: Notes on Reconstruction #1, #2

If I remembered a Christmas tree.

Another piece uploaded to the website. I feel like I am finally on a roll. I think I have decided to indirectly incorporate everything I remember of Henry Miller's writing into my artwork. It may be just how I approach the work, who knows. Regardless, it is the offensive strategy that exudes confidence in the work. Of course, to say offensive and Henry Miller in the same paragraph eludes to one assumption of intent based on context. Hear me now, I do not intend to offend but instead to do the opposite of defend.

Stoup, 2008

I just added this piece to my website. Ah. Reason # 3 for Why I came to Philadelphia: The PMA's Duchamp collection. I hope that fucker would be proud. Probably not, but fuck him. I never was much into hero worship, anyway.

Xerox + Camera = Camera(Scanner) + Photoshop

Oh, how I remember spending entire nights with friends at Kinko's making art and zines. As much as I love my computer, there is something missing from the process now.

Photo turning drawn.

I'm kind'a pissed that the DCCA has a crappy theme for their juried members show:

Crossing Lines- The theme for the 2009 Members' Juried exhibition engages the latitude, limits, and attitudes with which boundaries are either upheld or transgressed. Lines demarcate parameters, thresholds, borders, and territories, which in turn define the evolving notions of value systems such as nationalities and geopolitical or gender relations.

Deja Vu, I think I've been here before. God forbid if a modern artist doesn't make art that sucks off geopolitical or gender relations. Whatever, I will submit autonomic. pfft!

When I make dimes, I'm gonna' have windows like these. Let's talk 'bout seamless integration into nature. For these things, I want moolah.

A wheel for Abbey Lee. I love Puryear. He is grandiose.

Imagine yourself in tight vinyl coveralls and no underwear. I sure wish I had one of these motorcycles.

I took a trip with Chad and the undergrads from his Materials class. I remember why I should get out more and travel- 'Cause I see things I don't see everyday which may become drawings or sculptures. I wasn't supposed to take this picture. Jus' as long as it doesn't find me a lawsuit. I have a friend that might call these some kind of tower jons, but I don't know. I can't say what they are or where they're from due to the before mentioned lawsuit. Security level 4.

...took a trip to the Stancill Clay Quarry in Perrysville, MD. It's such a sweet place and gracious to the arts. With this trip begins a landscape series. It was inevitable. I live in the city, so naturally I rediscover the landscape. Yup.

Here are a few on my website too>

The yucca grows affixed.

A thousand leaves left and my vision is now blurred.

I enjoy these new spectacles.

My neighborhood is one that my friends come to only when they get lost. They don't ride down my street on their bikes unless someone gave them bad directions . There are no hip bars, coffee shops or eateries. We have these places, they're just not hip. My neighborhood is a little bit of family and a whole lot of salt. Weeds are the children that run down my streets playing Donovan McNabb to LJ Smith on a pass route. And tomatoes are grown for sandwiches. A pint is $4.00 not 6, and the other two is for Powerball. Some of us have been here before, some of us never left. This is my neighborhood.

The Clyde mongrel rests after his incursions.

Watch your ass- for your world is not safe. Moving objects, animals or people are all that is taken to waken the jaws of this heeler.

Christened "Sir Chompers" by the Queen, he was knighted in the wake of his most dubious distinction from men and monsters.

The patina left by nature is the only true patina. WE can only hope to present a micron of semblance to the passage of time. Artwork without patina lies void of life- dead, banished, toxic, or artificial.

Save the suns spectra for me. I look better in true color.

-Eastern State Penitentiary, June 2008