Bugging out

Been locked in the studio for a full six days solid on this one. Do you know in that entire time, this singular, milky, bugs-eye hasn’t turned it’s withering gaze from me once. It makes me think of the old man in Tell-Tale Heart staring accusingly from the dark like a bitter moon.

The paint has flowed appeasing the great eye none the less, like blood from a sacrificial lamb. Even the damp cold that clings into the midday from the night before doesn’t deter me, and I’m reminded how easy it is, when there is nothing else imposing itself other than the work at hand.

In a moment of epiphany last week, I typed something out on social media about so much art being manifested in silence, with the accompanying choir of a thousand voices screaming self doubt. It’s true-the visions are barely audible at times over the constant drone of  rejection, failure, hardship, exclusion or…well, name your self-flagellating poison.

It made me think I’ve probably been listening to the choir for too long.

I should have squashed the voices rather like our  vexing bug here.

Freedom and enlightenment comes when there is no fear of nothing left to lose, and it dawns that I flourish best from my place of exile.

Tending the garden

This is me, applying the final flourishes to a piece that may turn out to be called “Infernal Pitts shall never hold celestial spirits in bondage”, which of course is a couplet from Paradise Lost, but may end up being called ‘spirits unbound’ because it’s far easier to remember at my age.

Still working through the preliminaries for the rest, half way there as far as best laid plans go, realizing the scope of this is akin to staring up from the foot of an ancient great oak you’ve grown yourself, before attempting to traverse to the top.

From little acorns as they say.

Did manage to escape partial exile from my exclusion zone last weekend for the La Bodega fourth anniversary. My little 45″ vinyl contribution of a Siren, depicting my friend and extraordinary musician Eliza Rickman, which was made all the more special when the model herself made an appearance.

Thank you Eliza <3 p="">

Incidentally, if you aren’t already acquainted with Eliza’s output, I implore you to go and do so, enchanting,haunting, strange and lilting-all the prerequisites I have for great art- plus her videos are visual feasts of gothic loveliness.

elizarickman.com

No other shows planned until the big one in 2019, although I’m mooting the possibility that I am pretty much done as far as group shows are concerned.

Emphatically, this has zero to do with La Bodega-who I consider the singular shining light as far as an art scene in San Diego- but I may decide to say something about the gallery that has been the tipping point in consideration of that decision at some future event.

Suffice to say, that for the moment I’m too focused  on tending my own garden as opposed to being dismissed as no more than a thorn in the side of  someone else’s.

Paradiso's Fall

Though it may seem a little premature, best laid plans being what they are, I thought I would let you all know where a majority of my focus is going to be for the next fourteen months.

Following on from 2014’s show Purgatorium -I am honored to announce that  Paradiso’s Fall, will be debuting at The Dark Art Emporium in Long Beach, March 2019.

Though it may seem a ways off, experience has shown me that if time waits for no one, then it accelerates at light speed in the studio.

Over time, I’ll be posting works in progress, possibly even video peaks throughout the next twelve months, so I hope you’ll continue to follow me as I take another excursion down the rarebit hole.

As always the support and encouragement you provide sustains me like a manna, so my indelible thanks.

Rogues Gallery Featured artist for January

“In the studio he wields his brush over the fibers of his canvas with the precision and authority of a magistrate’s gavel… Weaving tapestries of man’s wonderment at the terror he poses to the world around him, and the terror he poses to himself.”

Kicking off the first day of the new year-in what hopefully is a shape of fortunes to come-I’m honored by having been chosen as Featured Artist for the month of January, in what is a beautifully eloquent article over on Rogues Gallery.

You can read the full article from the link below:

ROGUES GALLERY FEATURED ARTIST

Thank you so very much Steven Lee Matz at Intersekt Art

Aldous Huxley

“…most men and women will grow up to love their servitude and will never dream of revolution.”
― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

Another painted sketch, flexing the painted portrait muscles, while I busy myself for the next series. In this picture,Huxley reminds me of a cross between Jarvis Cocker and myself in my early 20’s .  I think that’s around the time I first read Brave New World. Then of course, it was still a work of fiction, or at least a cautionary tale. Like Orwell’s 1984, I suppose its become a sort of manifesto for the contemporary morass we live in. The Deltas intellectual malaise that is now the modern idocracy. The cultist anathema of the solidarity circle, now the evangelical right wing and the indignant Trump supporter.  Somas sleepwalkers….well, name your poison.

Dark days indeed.

The book had enough of a seminal impact on me to title one of my pieces after it, back in 2014 for my series Purgatorium. I’ll be making an announcement about its follow up series in the new year.

The death of Manson

You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays everybody’s crazy.

Charles Manson

“Something Witchy” (2012) Oil on canvas, 11″ x 14″

So Charlie-the self proclaimed “God of Fuck”-has finally left this mortal coil. I’ve already said everything I thought I had to say in that regard, but I guess I ought to share my thoughts since so many comments were curious what those where now he has passed.

Whether one wants to believe that Manson was a mind-controlled, puppet messiah, programmed to terminate the hippie dream, or a patsy prophet, he certainly shouldn’t be lionized or vindicated, regardless of how ultimately complicit he was in snuffing the lives of Stephen Parent, Jay Sebring, Abigail Folger, Wojciech Frykowski, Sharon Tate, Paul Polanski, Leno LaBianca and Rosemary LaBianca.

One thing is certain, Manson was an able and charismatic grifter with the gift of the gibber gab. A pontificate who stoked a climate of paranoia, hatred and apocalyptic level fear to a group of gullible and disenfranchised cult disciples, who would go on to do something truly diabolical in his name.

For myself, it is a welcome reminder to be mindful of parallels, of false prophets who profiteer, because it seems no less apropos, that Manson dies in the era that he does.

You can see the entire series I produced for the 2012 solo exhibit at Hyaena Gallery from the following:

Man/son and the haunting of the American Madonna 

Or watch my interview expounding my research on the Manson case, in John Borowski’s Serial Killer Culture streaming on Amazon Prime.

Or read the art book I compiled from my research:

RISE

Aleister (Prima) Crowley & the artists indomitable spirit

8″ x 11″
oil on canvas

So the great beast himself, knocked out so to speak- Alla Prima- in a few hours . Not that I’m an acolyte you understand. Even Bowie stated something along the lines that one better know their Latin inside out, if one wants to be a Crowleyite.
No, what I liked about the photo it was taken from, was that indomitable spirit, defiant in the wake of decrepitude and darkness, the last embers of a pipe hanging limply over that jutting chin. It was also a nice way to whet my whistle and make a bloody mess before getting down to the meaty stuff-something I’ve missed quite honestly since the days when I was doing author portraits before gritting my teeth through the Man/son series.

It loosens the arm you see, making you less inclined to over finicking.

At any rate, if the main course has seemed slower to get off the ground this year, it’s only because of  group exhibits and the ever prevailing need to hustle. Except to say, I shall be making an announcement shortly in regards of my next solo show- Paradiso’s Fall. So that drip is about to become a flood.

Speaking of indomitable spirits, someone I was honored to be introduced to by my artist friend Evgeniya Golik this past weekend was the artist, sculptor, architect and philanthropist James Hubbell. Nestled sedately in the hills of Santa Ysabel and a short ride from my own studio, his property is like a secret enclave that I can only describe as a kind of collusion of Hobbiton, with Art Nouveau, and Gaudian flourishes.

Actually, that doesn’t even begin to do it justice, its organic, metaphysical, psychedelic, just really odd, but what it is, is an awe inspiring embodiment of a lifetimes work, from an artist who has clearly lived, breathed and made a gallery of his entire existence since laying roots there in 1958.

Being escorted through building after building, each idiosyncratic in their singularity, illuminated with dappled stained glass and intricate allegorical mosaics, with studios filled to the brim with sculptures, paintings and drawings was utterly staggering in its prolific accomplishment. One could barely fathom it being the product of ten lifetimes, let alone one. That he had to rebuild four of the buildings following a brush fire in 2004 makes it all the more astonishing.

Now in his 80’s, he shows no sign of slowing down, and on a personal note, it was a welcome and humbling reminder that age need not dull the blade. That the life of the artist is at his or her best, when the very will, the mere act to create, supplants any other constraint. Material, imagined or otherwise.

You can learn more about this incredible man or about his foundation (and perhaps donate) from the following links:

JAMES HUBBELL

ILLAN LAEL FOUNDATION

On a not insignificant and final note, I have my dear friend and fellow artist Evgeniya Golik to thank for the invitation to meet James.

“Broken Glass Melody” – 10″ x 10″ – Acrylic, metallic ink pen on wood panel – $400

As you can see, she is a tremendous artist who having lived through Perestroika, manifests the indomitable spirit of the artist in her own right-and I’ll write more about Evgeniya in another post, but for the time being you can see (or purchase) her beautiful exquisite art from the following:

EVGOLA