The Next Day

"Oblivion shall own you-death alone shall love you"
You feel so lonely you could die-David Bowie


That's a detail from the piece "What's past is prologue".
The visage of a Bowie emerging from a bloodied scar could be a pretty apt summation of this year.

Why? Because if 2013 has seemed an endless tide of diminishing returns and fuck you affrontary, one beacon in this annus horribilis was the unexpected release of The Next Day. 

It couldn't have come at a better time frankly.

It's the sound of an aging artist, fully aware of less time ahead than behind, refusing to go quietly.

When I hear it, I think of Goya's painting-"Fight with Cudgels" or even late Picasso daubing images of sirens pissing into the Bay of Biscay.
 
At times if there has seemed little hope than the visual echoes on canvas, the album has been a welcome companion.

For a year that's felt like merely marking time, that much bares witnessing.

Farewell 2013-fare better than I ever did in your care.

Here's to the next day. 

A very Bruegel Yuletide

For my money (what little I have), no artist portrays seasonal salutations better than the elder Bruegel with his 'Hunters in the snow.' The three ragged peasants and dog pack emerging from the spindly wooded glade, to behold the unraveling icy spectacle below, could be likened to a modern day parable of shoppers scavenging for last minute holiday bargains. 
Parables are a big thing this time of year after all.

It could also be just my way of wishing you all a very merry feast of Saturnalia.

Sharon Tate and the daughters of Joy

One of the most tremendous and extraordinary happenstances to come in the wake of the Man/son show last year, was my introduction to David Herrle, whose opus Sharon Tate and the Daughters of Joy, has just been released. 
Expounding a similar trough, Davids prose is a fascinating rhythmic riff on an eternal arc of the goddess, femme fatal and eviscerated muse through history,and I was honored then to be asked to contribute my 2010 piece-the Valley-as the frontispiece. That aside, I make no bones when I say that I believe Herrles work is as profound as Ginsberg's "Howl" and every bit the master painter with epigrams, I'll leave you with a selection of his remarkable prose, and the hope that you will click the  following link and fill someones stocking: 

check out Sharon Tate and the daughters of Joy


UNTITLED, or UNTAINTED
 
Scatalogicians say “we’re born between urine and feces”
and evolutionists reduce human births to fishy non-events.

I rebut that we burst from Zeus’ head and correspond
to true love as the moon reflects the sun.

We are one part piss and shit, three parts magic.
There is a vast heaven between the hole and the hole.

REVERSE GALATEA

 I stand against genetic egalitarians, insisting — and proving —
that there are perfect tens among us, that the streets, malls,
schools, slums and cubicle lands teem with females that shame
Playmates, Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, Gibson Girls, Miss USAs.

Physical beauty and limbic dope can't make us righteous or
inspire peace (those darling pinups on bomber noses: all femmes
fatales) so we must abstract delectable flesh into concept, Muse,
trickle-up aesthetics: unveil the Sublime, inform the world of Forms.

This is the Reverse Galatea, an unreification, a Cocochanelism.
Let's piss off gender-feminists and Left and Right ascetics.

My radical subversion compels me to saturate the social sphere
with post-Pre-Raphaelite cream women, hot ebon lovelies and
supermodels, conflate proto-Soviet Plato with Marie Claire, shine
pop culture's flooziest swan-sired Helens into Nurse Ratcheds' eyes.

Offend puritan Hitlers, Marlene Dietrich! Toss your bra at social
realism, Dita Teese! Muffle Rembrandt noses, Courbet bushes!

The Aesthetes were right in praising scopophilic and olfactory
bondage: arresting style and images, powder, blush and perfume,
Prada over Pravda, because curative visual frottage stimulates a
sugary ooze to gum up utilitarian machines and appall soul-police.

Mary Poppins is Julie Andrews (not the marm of the books), Gypsy Rose
Lee frees, Trudy Stein jails, Joplin's a jalopy, and Katy Perry's a Ferrari.

We need gorgeous gargoyles to repel drab demons, a return to pulp
magazines' dichotomous depictions: an aesthetic equivalent to war-
propaganda art that defends the pure genius of being good-looking.
Who's afraid of Naomi Wolf? Not us! Beauty is an ever-expanding box!

Pin-up artists Vargas and MacPherson are high-treasonous.The centerfold is a revolutionary act.

Serial Killer Culture world premiere screening date

It's in Chicago, the day after festivus which might as well be the Moon for me, but at least it feels like reaching that far. No real inkling as to the amount of face time for my contribution, but my hope is fifteen minutes, because it's as close as I'll get to mine.

 Details as follows:

SERIAL KILLER CULTURE WORLD PREMIERE SCREENING DECEMBER 26

Doors open at 6pm, film begins at 6:30pm. Stay for the performance by MACABRE after the film!

HOLIDAY OF HORROR 2013
Thursday, December 26th
at Reggies 2105 S. State Street in Chicago, IL 60616
doors at 6pm 17 & over show

HOLIDAY OF HORROR 2013
The 16th annual Holiday Of Horror
featuring

MACABRE
www.facebook.com/OFFICIALMACABRE
www.murdermetal.com

CARDIAC ARREST
www.facebook.com/pages/Cardiac-Arrest-US/92250701414

ELBOW DEEP (record release show)
www.facebook.com/pages/Elbow-Deep/142644572431991

and

World Premiere screening of SERIAL KILLER CULTURE by filmmaker John Borowski (Filmmaker of H.H. Holmes, Albert Fish and Carl Panzram).

Serial Killer Culture examines the reasons why artists and collectors are fascinated by serial killers. Through music, painting, filmmaking, writing, and collecting, thirteen individuals are interviewed about creating art and searching for murderous artifacts. Featured in the film are: Joe Coleman, MACABRE, Rick Staton, Hart Fisher, The Dahmer Tours, Joe Hiles, Sam Hane, Stephen Giannangello, Sparzanza, Matthew Aaron, John Borowski, David Van Gough, and The World Famous Crawlspace Brothers.

Official Site: serialkillerculture.com
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Sg85xdzHjM

BUY TICKETS HERE NOW
http://www.ticketfly.com/purchase/event/280303

presented by
The Chicago Metal l Factory
www.facebook.com/THECMF
www.theCMF.com

REGGIE'S
reggieslive.com

REBEL RADIO
rebelradio.com

MP SHOWS
mpshows.com

CHICAGO METAL ALLIANCE
www.facebook.com/ChicagoMetalAlliance

Darkness falls

"The night will always win.
The night has darkness on it's side"

Elbow


You can't see it yet, but I never had a painting defy me so much before. Shall I tell you, that we've had the most torturous, tempestuous, taciturn, tantrums together. A veritable Tempest in fact, which-given the theme and adjunct velocity of recent events-is as close to tapping the vein as nicking an artery with a straight razor.

 I think of Manson whenever I hear "straight razor", along with "boxcar" and "jug of wine", which-given my inclination to the latter-means he's constantly in the shadows, even when he isn't making the news for pending nuptials to a 20 something Mansonoid.

 I digress.

The shadows is certainly why then, the new one is behaving so precociously willful, since my every intention with the last series was to exorcise black from my palette...in more ways than one might imagine. 
Naturally, the dark is a constant periphery for me, the oily slug of lamp black-an oxymoron if ever there was-my default. Why that is I could attribute as much to some unfathomable predisposition as much as the dark pockmarks stung by life, but there you have it.

It took the faux Frieda Kahlo exhibit at Liberty Station to shake me of my doldrums, shine a beacon and all that cliche jive. My word-all that pain and bitter disappointment, embellished by other hands in garland hues, light dancing in every corner, vivid brilliance illuminating sharper than a boxcars glass shards. Misery by proxy.

Except, afterwards, I scrawled something on a dogs ear, about her legacy seeming like the suffering theater of female empowerment in the face of misogyny, but it felt misogynistic to even pursue the trains thought.

It struck me that in all things, it's too easy to cast shadows. 

In that light, Vincent begins to almost make sense.

Final trailer for Serial Killer Culture

Dropped today, the latest trailer for John Borowski's Serial Killer Culture-the documentary I was interviewed for about my Man/son showcase. Featuring as it does, Joe Coleman, the Crawlspace Brothers, Hart Fisher, Matthew Aarronn, Macabre and a host of others,  I appear briefly at around the 1.15 mark.

No word on a release date, but I have it on good authority that it should be available at select screenings soon, as well as on general release through Netflix streaming in the new year.

All Hallows sneak peak trick or treat

 The feast before Samhain is with us once again, the Danse Macabre for the fabled Aos Sí. Not for me some anecdote on a haunted gallery theme night. Anything relative to 'darker' art's is relegated as tacky as year old candy in a rotten Jack o Lantern this time of year at any rate. Much to my cost and chagrin.

Still, the spirits run freely through the studio, dark corners move and spells are cast with the wave of a sable.

 And I revert to my natural state.

Happy All Hallows.

The Ghost of Vincent.

"The sadness will last forever."
Van Goghs proported final words to Theo

This shall be my first Halloween for some time that I am not exhibiting anywhere.  
Enough ghosts and demons currently in the studio at any rate. 

There's the ghost of Vincent for instance, pinned to my wall, glaring accusingly with one withering eye. The other one-his left one-is looking resigned, filled with marine-flecked melancholy and suffering. That particular eye haunts my own work right now, imposing itself into each canvas like the plucked orb of Horus. 

Did Vincent truly suffer I wonder? 

The romantique parable is of his self imposed exile in Arles amongst spud headed peasants, harboring Daddy issues and a gradual realization of the gargantuan shadow cast by Rembrandt, whilst his search to capture light in liquescence and Oriental line became the vainglorious quest of a failed alchemist. All on his brothers dime I might add, until he ravaged sibling good will and stipend on Absinthe, harlots and Japanese art prints. 
Not the suffering of brokeback tilling of fields from dusk till dawn with the peasants he gilded, or even the nine to five for poor old Vince, just the artifice of the syphilitic Libertine in a garret, the actor slumming it for the Academy. 

 Vincent the artist messiah, the flameheaded madman suffering needlessly, and dying penuriously wretched to save the future of contemporary Art. Vincent a standard bearer for greatness equated with drug addled, ritualized self sacrifice. Vincent the veritable Lou Reed of Modern Art. Vincent and the second shooter, because a death doesn't truly become a myth without a hefty (over)dose of conspiracy.

Mischievous brats with bad aim or not,there go Rothko,Pollock and his ilk making martyrs of us all.Or at least suffering taken to its histrionic, ignoble endpoint with Granto's trite Eye-jaculations;

The residual misery stain's the 20th century and beyond, thicker than impasto, making soothsayers of passive observers hoping to unravel an element of raw human truth amongst the chaos of stumbled ill rendering, whilst faded print's of sunflower's hang innocuously from a million vestibule wall's. 

Fuck you Vincent.

Introducing Skyflower Creations by Lani

Often beyond the confines of my studio, accompanying the sounds of my own cursing, the voices in my head and whatever happens to be on my playlist, can be heard the diligent chug, chug, whir of my wife sewing.

 For let it be known, and make no mistake about it,  that Lani is the true accomplished artist in this household.  

 For years, I've watched in awe, as she manicures the most delicate cloth with silken thread and animate it into being, and often at shows, the last thirteen Halloweens, daily living-I have been the beneficiary of her remarkable gift to give fabric character, as have countless others. Costumes, contemporary clothing, a dizzying gamut of ingenious adornments,  no longer shall she be silent all these years, because her talents now have an online presence:Skyflower creations.

 Follow the thread- thread and her luxurious needlework by subscribing to her blog.

SKYFLOWER CREATIONS BLOG

Van Gough's inspiration's and alchemy

Inspired and at the behest of a recent facebook post by my talented daughter-Emma-above is a stack of current obsessions feeding the artistic alchemy. 

By virtue of abundance, it's not quite as diverse or impressive as  Bowie's top 100 list of books, which appeared this week and which I was happy to note does include one of the tomes on my own current pile.

Depending on the canvas consuming me at the time, the list is generally interchangeable of course, and most of the books are digested purely for invocation,  but as latitude and longitute into the geography of the new series, it's a pretty good GPS.

The list from top left is as follows:

Salvador Dali-50 Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship
Valazquez, the technique of genius by Jonathan Brown and Carmen Garrido
The Encyclopedia of Mythology by Arthur Cotterell
The PreRaphaelites by Trewin Copplestone
The Divine Comedy with Illustrations by Gustav Dore (translation by Henry W. Longfellow)
The complete works of Shakespeare
Images of Horror and Fantasy by Gert Schiff
Creepy presents Richard Corben-the definitive collection of the artist's work from Creepy and Eerie!
On Ugliness by Umberto Eco
Art of the Late Middle Ages by Hans H. Hofstatter
Van Gogh a self-portrait. Letters revealing his life as a painter selected by W.H.Auden
The Devil-the Archfiend in Art from the sixth to the sixteenth century by Luther Link
The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte
Purgatorio by Dante Alighieri
The Secret Temple-Masons, Mysteries and the founding of America by Peter Levenda
Portrait of the Artist as ab young man and the Dubliners by James Joyce
Like you've never been away by Paul Trevor

Van Gough at Molotov Gallery

 Contributing to a little group exhibit later this week-recycling several works from the Man/son thing last year to a showcase at Molotov gallery-here in San Diego. It'll be my first appearance (proper) in my adopted hometown for some time, though as is customary, expect bugger all in the way of fanfare from the usual S.D periodicals. 

Still, since it's my only scheduled show until the unveiling of the new series a year from now, it gives those local folk that were sorry not to make it up to the Hyaena last October, a fighting chance to see the leftovers.

Fiddling whilst Rome burns, by Van Gough

That's the new piece propped on my easel, and it strikes me that sometimes, the work I do- for all its predisposition-eerily resounds the now. 

That sucking sound you hear is the canvas so dense with dark matter, it's like a black hole reflected in an ebon mirror.

It's the parable of Dante: a veritable inferno beyond the soaring temperatures and the demons of my studio, beyond the faux outrage over a Disney Monarch shaking her skinny arse on national tv, and a fallen crop of bloodless children littering the streets to the strains of a news anchors soundbyte. There's another ensuing war brewing like a witches cauldron in the middle east, a reactor in the orient spewing radiation like acid in a well, hubble-bubble, toil and trouble casting the shadow of an apocalyptic endpoint that both feeds the nihilists black imaginings and dismembers the optimists servant.  To be an artist sometimes means being possessed with the rage of the aggrieved and the despondency of the paralyzed.

In other word's it's enough fuel to stoke the fire and extinguish it, if only because as little air that moves through the studio right now, there is no living in a vacuum at such times.

Serial Killer Culture poster design

Perhaps it's jumping the gun, but in my haste I wanted to share this remarkable poster design by Kevin Stone, for the forthcoming documentary release of Serial Killer Culture. Chosen following a competition for the best submission that will accompany the cover of the DVD release, It has a gorgeous retro feel which-although incongruous-when one considers the meat of the matter, perfectly encapsulates the tenet of Borowski's purpose.

Having long dabbled in the arena of design for the occasional tossed bone, it's a welcome and refreshingly intelligent, reminiscence of era's past.

William Utermohlen and the con of contemporary, by Van Gough

 "Nothing is true, and everything is permitted"
William Burroughs

I've been thinking about William Utermohlen a lot lately, and contemporary art and my 'place' in it. I do that periodically, and Poor Williams story is none better than a yardstick to beat one's self with. William-for the uninitiated- was an artist who continued to catalog himself throughout his twelve year descent into the hellish grip of Alzheimer's.

All the works above are by William-first to last , a period between 1967 and 2000. Hard to believe isn't it?  You can see all the progressions (or regressions) in between. The last one looks like the scrawls of child, or even Modern Art. What does that say about Contemporary Art then? That it is a self conscious affectation at portraying an unraveled mind? That it is the self imposed attempt at naivety? That it is the deliberate nihilism of virtuosity? All those questions share something in common. They are all predisposed intentions-a luxury poor William didn't have. Instead, he could only watch the years of bravura technique he had developed trickle away to the abstract resonance of dying brain matter, to formless, hollow shapes barely comprising substance or meaning.
The uninitiated for Post Modernist sake, might want to wank on and argue that the later renderings display more of a kind of tortured tumultuous vitality than the first portrait. Not poor William though. He would know such posturing was a lie, Sadly,William can no longer argue at all.

I ask again then, what does that tell us about Contemporary art? About the people who paint it? About the people who buy it? About the curators who peddle it? You see, I believe there's a perpetual lie being told in "Modern art" and it goes deeper than the con of the contemporary, and the sin of the cynical dollar value. It is one that forgoes suffusion for suffering.  The telling for technique. What it doesn't do, and what it doesn't want you to do, is look deeper, to think beyond the designer paint spattered facade and your home furnishings.It doesn't want you to be propelled by the rich magic in allegory, to become attuned to the symbolism of rite, because the historical power encoded in classicism,the veiled aspiration of heightened reality has been designated to become a relic collecting dust and trustees in museums and stately mansions. It is the artifact of privilege, the heritage of elite lineage. 

Why did this happen? Could it be that there is something else going on beyond the hustle of the Emporer's new clothes?

If you will indulge me for a moment longer... there's a scene in Polanski's movie the 9th Gate (based on the novel The Club Dumas) , in which Johnny Depp comes into possession of a grimoire (said to be written by old Nick himself) which contains illustrations imbued with powerful totems,capable of manifesting Satan (the light bringer) on earth.
It's a poor movie, made by a Director in recess, jaded by his own dark dabbling's no less, but my point is this-there is power in Ancient symbols. In well constructed, beautifully rendered, analogous images. One need only seek out the work of Bosch, Raphael, Carravagio, Goya or Blake to see the alchemy of inherent hermetic symbols expressed.

Where is any of that in Modern Art? If Modern life is a construct of our times, then so is the culture that informs it. But who exactly informs it? Who evaluates its worth? Is it the collectors? The so called 1% with warehouses of Hirst's and Warhol's? Is it the media, bought and sold by corporate advertising? Who are the arbiters of taste? You or I? What cereal do you buy and where did you hear about it?

Do you see where I am going with this? As my old friend John Liddy used to intone through white knuckles;

"Whats the fucking point damn it!?"

You see, I believe the depiction of anything beyond surface has become a problem, or at least diminished to the fuck you moniker of low brow or a Billy Childish ism. The other side is that the value of Art is now designated by the sterotypical notion that there are idiot savants in the gutter, comprising wizened kids under the delusion that scrawling on a wall is anti-establishment, when the irony of course is that their heroes are as entrenched in establishment as it gets and laughing all the way to the Banksy.
For that matter, isn't it also the case that if graffiti is the provenance of the street, with that democratization comes the terrible equation that skill no longer has any cachet, art no longer any value? Whose laughing then?

  Bottom line, you are being lied to: Duchamp was a chump. Pollock was bollocks. Rothko was bought by Rothschild. Your pristine hotel boardroom, Ikea Scandinavian model, with it's matching curtains and "edgy" Rothko reproduction is a crass lie and you are lying to yourselves and your notion of high art intelligence if you buy into it, because minimalism is as minimalism does-an empty shell in a vacant lot, with nothing beyond the incoherent blurt echoing the self proclaimed white box. It asks you to be a reflection of the same blank drivel, to look for relevance in the nothing and be content in its hollow. It has no cachet, no reference, no aspiration. It is the masturbatory scrawl of diminished intelligence with grand pretension. It is keeping you 'down' and it is the death and dearth of the magic and alchemical rite of artistry.

An insult in fact to the life's work of artists like William Utermohlen.

Texting Purgatorium-David Van Goughs font design.

 


In between multiple coatings of prime and sand, I've been designing the font for what is the title of the new series-Purgatorium. 

As it falls somewhere between the Gothic flourishes of German hermetic script, and the medieval calligraphy of a hangman's ledger, it possibly gives a small indicator as to the flavor of the series.

I'm still somewhat short on all of the necessary characters, but once I've completed the set, I'll likely make the suitcase file available for general use, in the meantime here it is in advertising another sneak peak.

Video Exclusive: First look at one of David Van Gough's new paintings

 It's the weekend of Comic Con here in my adopted home town, San Diego's Convention center-no doubt-groaning beneath the collective weight of junkets for what will almost certainly be creatively bankrupt, forthcoming movie releases. 

Something you won't see there this weekend is any of my work, but in the spirit of exclusives, I've decided to do a little video release of my own-a trailer if you will for one of the paintings from my upcoming series-"Purgatorium". 

Workingly titled-"The Exile of Sisyphus", the video is a little subdued to counter point the weight of visuals, so you may have to crank the volume a little. Enjoy.

Upon a Midnight Dreary goes fourth.

Dahlia Jane's blog-upon a midnight dreary- is four years young today. Long term acolytes, might be well aware of our association-particularly as a result of her sterling publicity for the previous show-Man/son and the Haunting of the American Madonna, but newbies and happenstance's might have missed the running gamut of all things artistically alternative on her wonderfully diabolic domain. If you haven't done so already, stalk and subscribe, it'll be like Halloween all year around. 

Upon a Midnight Dreary Blog

Of course, a certain artist of minor import has had the honor of being featured on her malificent blog innumerable times, since we met and gret at the Hive gallery in 2010 (pictured above)

So cheers and Happy Birthday baby Jane, and I'll leave you with a collection of the grand articles she has crafted on my behalf:


Upon a Midnight Dreary Podcast #8: David Van Gough-by Dahlia Jane

Man/son And the Haunting of the American Madonna-by Dahlia Jane

D3ad/Ends book review:2011-by Dahlia Jane

New Artwork from David Gough:2011-by Dahlia Jane
 
Artist Profile: David Gough:2010--by Dahlia Jane

Blood, sweat and paint by David Van Gough

I realize its adding little to the burgeoning mire of Instagram style selfies- another not particular flattering shot of the artist in situ (et al)-but it's that time of year again, paint smeared, war torn and in the flesh as it were, a proverbial art warrior, somewhere between battling the heatwave and burning the midnight oil on canvas. 

I make it sound more romantic than it is certainly. 

Still you can sort of make out what I've been working on in the background-the ongoing Purgatorium duties-a sneak peak whilst you wait.

Picture this-the Art of Serial Killer Culture

Here's another still from the upcoming documentary-Serial Killer Culture, In which I am trying to break the fourth dimension by disappearing into the paint. Whilst we all await my talking head debut, check out some of John Borowski's titles on Netflix, because real life monsters are much scarier-

• H.H.Holmes: America's first serial killer
• Panzram: the spirit of Hatred and Vengance

Emma Gough-The Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree

One of the many joys of parenthood, is getting to watch your offspring flourish creatively. So it is with my daughter-Emma, whose own artistic travails would make any practicing daubers head spin-painting,drawing,collage,applique,textiles,photography,make up-all pour out of her at an alarming rate. One of the core joys last year was watching her Graduate her BA Art honors degree, which followed on from her premier showcase-The Ritual series.

Below is just a small selection of her beautiful works, of you can see more of Emma on her site HERE, or by liking her facebook: facebook.com/EmmaGoughArtAndCraft where she currently has a very generous giveaway of one of her gorgeous original Art pieces.

 

Permanent fixture at Hyaena Gallery (for now.)

I was reminded by a link on my news feed today, that along with some fine Art prints-you can still see some of the original pieces from Octobers Man/son show at Hyeana, including the pivotal painting-'Healter Skelter' (below)
Check out the link or contact myself or Hyaena if you are interested in purchasing any of the available work.

http://hyaenagallery.com/davidvangough.html

Stirring a Hot Brew-David Herrle interviews David Gough on Subtle Tea

I've been very fortunate  this year to be interviewed by some brilliant minds, and there is none less acutely idiosyncratic than mister David Herrle, who runs a site called Subtle Tea, but rather aptly-is also the author of an extraordinary forthcoming book, which I have been lucky enough to spy entitled Sharon Tate, and the daughters of Joy.  More details on that when its released.

For the time being, David kept me on my toes in what I would describe as my most comprehensive interview to date, in which I noodle about the Man/son series, mortality and  daubing. You can read the full transcript below.


SUBTLE TEA INTERVIEW

John Borowski's Serial Killer Culture

As a general rule of 'dumb', I will not post prospective news, unless it's a 'shoo in' or already out there. Happily, this latest-and not inconsiderable dent in the wall-could fall under either category, as a short time ago, I was invited to contribute some "face time" to a forthcoming documentary by John Borowski entitled 'Serial Killer Culture'.

 Aficionados of such esoterical study, may know Johns several other titles such as H.H Holmes, Carl Panzram and Albert Fish, several of which are mainstays over on Netflix (so check them out)

John Borowski Netflix

His latest project seems no less comprehensive, a veritable dissection of psychopathic devotees, and over several hours-and quite fittingly at Hyaena gallery-I discussed last Octobers Man/son show, my theories about the case, Sinister Architecture, and a number of other 'bumf'. My prattlings shall be accompanied by fellow artisans of the stature of Joe Coleman, Crawlspace Bros,Hart Fisher, Rick Staton and my fellow Hyaena stablemate-Clint Carney.

Come what may, and though I am not present yet, do watch the preview trailer below, and bookmark the website HERE

Where are we now?

If I've been silent of late, its because I've been using my other voice-the only one that really matters, before large looming canvas's that are like a hungry hole longing to be fed. And whilst I can't show you anything for a while, that's me in the studio amongst the detritus of past-masters and the sketches of my intention,dressed in appropriate attire.




 

The End is Nigh

Podcast Interview on Upon a Midnight Dreary

I'm very honored to have been a guest and interviewed on a podcast show, by LA's homicidal hostesses-Dahlia Jane.
Dahlia of course, is one of my biggest supporters and has done a sterling job in the past of promoting my work on her awesome blog.
There's plenty of food for thought, as I talk about Art, the Man/son showcase, horror movies and future projects over on Upon a Midnight Dreary.  Grab yourself a brew and a plate of cookies and listen in. Thank you Dahlia.


Upon a midnight Dreary podcast link

Rise-Man/son and the Haunting of the American Madonna.

On February 18th, it shall be 41 years since the death sentence of Charles Manson and his three followers was revoked to life imprisonment. Its seems almost timely then, that as a reminder of why he and his murderous cohorts were incarcerated, I am pleased to announce that I am releasing my second art book-Rise: Man/son and the Haunting of the American Madonna, which will include art from last years exhibition, along with annotations, sketches and notes that accompanied the series.

More details to follow.

The Ghosts of my life...

"Exploding Muse" was a study which hails from the Ghost series from 2010-11.
At the time I described it as 'a measured reflection on the ravages of time eroding beauty as something innately beautiful.'
Its now an addition to the gallery on my website Here

Site update-Portraits gallery

 To showcase a selection of portraits and commissions from the last few years, there's a new gallery on my site entitled 'Visage', and you will find Samuel Beckett (above) in grand company amongst the likes of William Burroughs, Ziggy Stardust, Frankenstein and Lana Del Rey:

http://davidgoughart.com/visage_gallery.html

Osmosis

'Osmosis',began life as a drawing for a Valentines day show at Mosaic gallery, before it was reworked in oils in 2011, and showcased at the Alternative Cafe No Brow exhibit the same year. 

Currently, you can see it, along with a number of other works-including those from the Man/son series, at the Ruby Room here in San Diego until January 31st.

It's also available as signed prints: 
http://davidgoughart.com/Art_Osmosis_Giclee.html

The Bride

My wife-Lani-is a huge fan of the Bride of Frankenstein, and so as a surprise gift for the holiday's, I painted Elsa Lanchester in her most iconic role.  

 As you can see she was very happy with the results.

Cielo Drive Blog

Working on the Man/son series last year, opened a literal can of worms, as far as the research involved. Part of my own personal remit, was to trace what I saw as connections back to my hometown of Liverpool, and so I began a blog as a counterpoint to the series called One Hundred & Fifty Cielo Drive. 
The latest post is the first in a series of posts on the Mersey Freemasons, and you can read it by clicking the following banner link

Art Print Sale

The original for 'Melancholy Shadow' was sold to a private buyer late last year, but I've made 11" x 14" signed prints available, along with what I would say are some of my most enduringly popular pieces, over on my site-just $12 each.


http://davidgoughart.com/Art_Prints_Giclee.html

Edgar Alan Poe-Spoken Tales of a Tortured Genius

 

Edgar Alan Poe has always been one of my favorite authors, and so it was an honor and  welcome surprise, when the founding member of the rock band-Tourniquet-approached me late last year, to commission the use of a painting for the cover of their album-'Spoken Tales of a Tortured Genius.'

Titled 'Thus said'-the painting dates back to 2006, and depicts the author surrounded by symbolic props, representative of his life and works.
  
It's the perfect frontispiece for the album, which contains seven classic Poe stories, read aloud by seven rock performers to an ambient backdrop by Ted Kirkpatrick. The albums track listing is as follows:

The Tell-Tale Heart: LES CARLSEN - Bloodgood
The Haunted Palace: FRANK MARINO – Mahogany Rush
The Cask of Amontillado: LUKE EASTER – Tourniquet
The Raven: ERIC WAGNER - Trouble
The Masque of the Red Death: JAMIE ROWE - Guardian
The Oval Portrait: ROB BECKLEY – Pillar
The Raven: WARREL DANE - Nevermore

Having listened to the album, the vocal performances lend a gritty, world weary feel against a gothic rock backdrop, beffitting its dark colonial origins.
You can purchase the album from the bands website: 

http://www.tourniquet.net/audio.html

Or listen to preview Here