Monday, October 31, 2011

Far beyond our Halloween

Perhaps it was too bold a pronouncement, but I didn't complete the piece by All Hallows as I hoped I would-time eclipses ambition.

It can wait for another day.

For now, the Horror classics are queued and the Pumpkins are lit so...

Hellicious Halloween everyone.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Art After Death-Momento Mori-Oceanside Museum

Last night could have awakened the dead. Or at least rattled a few bones.
We were at the posthumously titled "Art after Death" event at the OMA-attendees and patrons in full costumed regalia.

I must say its a singularly surreal experience to see a succession of zombies file past ones work-art imitating life imitating art.

The misses and I plumbed for something a little more subdued-sartorial period homages to Poe and Mary Shelly-or faux Poe as one of my circle quipped.

Another bedazzling blur of faces (masked or otherwise), consigned to the faded memorabilia of crumpled programs-thank you to everyone who made it happen and made it out to see us.

The show closes on October the 30th.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The Beat Goes On-article in City Beat with David Gough

"Gough’s oil paintings are beautifully done narratives often dealing with the cruel inevitability of mortality...

a pretty solid interview and review of my book in San Diego City Beat today, courtesy of Kinsee Morlan.
We actually talked for almost an hour early the other morning, and
despite only being on my third brew-she somehow managed to make my ramblings lucid..

Thank you Kinsee.

You can read the full transcript from the following:

Art Depicting Death, by Kinsee Morlan

OMA closing reception just two days away, clobber out of moth balls.

In between I've set myself the task of completing the painting I am now calling "An Artists Hommage-a general truth" before All hallows.

I may need to conjure spirits to help me.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Momento Mori-Oceanside Museum of Art-Featuring David Van Gough

I think any artist will tell you that opening shows feel like a brief bittersweet culmination. Lost in the whirlwind hubbub of meet and greeting, and word trifling, and back slappery, one rarely gets the chance to meditate in tranquility, the earnest ambiance of the voices on the wall, the months of travail that brought everything to this point.

Which is why it seems so fitting then, that what thus far has been my most prestigious showing, opened without the usual trappings of champagne embellishments.
Of course, the champagne shall still flow on the 28th, in what will be not so much of a reception as a closing, but that this particular show is a testament to the celebration of 'The' ultimate end, seems somehow oddly apropos.

Some thoughts on the collection-putting aside my own modest contributions for the moment, I was struck by not just the quality of work by my fellow journeyman, but the thematic restraint of the exhibit.

With All Hallows looming, thankfully this is no descent into what could have been the easy quagmire of schlock horror.
Other than my own pieces of course, my standout favorite painting was a work entitled "Horns". by Dan Allen, but my compliments to all the artists involved, along with the sterling work performed by the curators and staff at the OMA.

Full details of the Art after Death event on the 28th to follow.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Depiction of Depict

Dropped by the OMA today to pick up some flyers and a copy of Depict magazine.
Great full page of The Valley.

Since the exhibit hasn't been fully hung yet, I didn't get to chance a sneak peak at the work that will be on display, but I know something of my conferees, and the company shall be sterling.

Three long hot sleepless nights aead-fall santa ana relentless.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Pacific specific

With the OMA-Momento Mori show opening in less than a week, here's another nice little article that someone drew my attention to in Pacific Magazine.

October is ramping up to be a month of activity, punctuated with the obligatory late night mining of Netflix for 60's and 70's Horror classics.

I did however make it into the studio yesterday, and spent the hours embellishing details on the (working title) "Red reaper" piece.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Depict Magazine article

Further to my City Beat unpublished interview post, I've discovered a rather wonderful new magazine has posted this article for the forthcoming OMA show-remember your mortality, featuring a large splendid picture of 'The Valley' and a mention of someone you've never heard of.

You can read it online here:


Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Our Father-excerpt from Dead/Ends

Further to it's recent release, here is another exclusive excerpt from my book-of Dead/Ends:

My dad Joseph, was a demolition man. Liverpool was a dereliction of extinct tenements, waiting to be razed to a landfill.

Caked in the muck of a days toil, he would often return with some relic—a yellow paged book or a faded tin toy.
The empty buildings were embellished with a forgotten era -cornices or metal fireplaces, wooden doors or roof slates could be stripped and sold for extra subsidy.

That’s the way it was during the searing summer of 77, when my Dad had clamored through a window onto a two- story building to retrieve the slate. Except the slate wasn’t secure, and as it slipped from its battens, my father lost his footing, falling thirty feet to the pavement below.
His body was shattered, his back broken and he spent the next eight months in a hospital healing, forcing himself to walk again, though he never truly recovered.

My Dad was a demolished man.

Years later, he would recount that there had been no slideshow of life flashing before him, only the presence of mind to land on his feet.

People would thank God, and say it was a miracle my Dad survived.
At the time I wondered why any merciful God would set him on a path to fall in the first place.
To my mind, my dads suffering made the almighty fallible, a brat petulantly toying with lives on a whim, all for the sake of being afforded some graciousness for abstaining his hand from an untimely end.

It wasn’t any God I wanted to revere.

Two fathers fell that day.

Dead/Ends is available to order from HERE

Sunday, October 2, 2011


Tentative. That's how I've been feeling for sometime now. It may have began to percolate months ago, but probably manifested when I went to pay my respects to Jen Trute.

In that little studio of hers overlooking Oceanside bay, stacked vestiges of an artists working life condensed into boxes, unpainted canvases and medical equipment.

That it reminded me of John Liddy's post legacy, was all too much like bad de ja vu.

That arc again-that shadow.

It made me wonder what my own ramshackle legacy would be, how the final tally would be disseminated-the books, the materials, the art. When personal effects and debtors are settled, would the most I could hope for be a hidden artifact collecting dust in a thrift store corner?

So, on the day I was interviewing for my return to the bourgeois lot of a regular paycheck, I was also at Jen Trute's former studio, inheriting boxes of oil paint and brushes, stacks of canvas, volumes of art books.
Irony gluts like a bloated slug.

And yet, for all her penultimate generosity, for all my gratitude, I couldn't shake the sense of feeling like some ghastly vulture. It made me tentative, especially when I got home and unloaded the boxes.

Let me tell you that Jen Trute was as meticulous with her materials as she was her work. High quality paints were ordered into color category, whilst thousands of swatches on cards annotated mixed values, and brushes separated into jars by size and material-everything as pristine as the day she had purchased them.

It all felt a little intimidating-I felt a little unworthy of the torch being passed.

Until finally I realized the best way to break the spell, and honor her, would be to paint her-or at least an imagined portrait of her-since we were acquaintances but never met.
And what better way than to do it using the materials she lovingly procured. Here then is a progression of the new piece-"tentatively" called Red Reaper- but done very much in the spirit, honor and paint of the incomparable Jen.

I think she would have liked it.