You Are The We Of Me

If you had come to the opening of You Are The We of Me, Jeanne Cassanova would have personally made you a snow cone! Too bad if you didn't...




Awesome drawings!



A detail of the wall installation






Above is the full panoramic view of the entire wall installation that Jeanne labored over just for this show! Spectacular!

Today's Oxymoron: "Forgotten Memories"

Last night I was a small flying dragon. I was passing over the heads of the patrons of a small diner/arcade who looked more annoyed than fascinated enough to say, "hey look, a little dragon is flying over our heads!"

Leaving the building, I realized that I had two front arms in addition to wings, which is not typical of flying reptiles at all. So my body morphed into a more pterodactyl type shape, where my front arms had flesh membranes spreading from my fingers to my hips. I landed on the beach and saw a group of now extinct sea birds who resembled pelicans, but had iridescent blue-black feathers.

Suddenly, I found myself on the roof of a house that was being flooded. Now back to human, I had to save myself from the rising waters by climbing into a window on the top floor. After I did this, however, the water disappeared. There was a family in there having sandwiches and watching TV. On the tube, to my surprise, were my mom, my stepdad, my sister, and all of my douche-bag step brothers. It looked as if they had just won the lottery or something. Even though I felt an obligation to watch the screen, I really didn't want to and I looked away.

Torchkid

This image was done in watercolor with an overlay in pencil. It was done in late 2007. The figure comes from an old National Geographic photo. I would like for my work to head more in this direction.

A Tale of Wild Romance

Frosty the Snowman became Frosti the Snow-tran after the operation. Thanks to an additional enchantment placed upon the silk hat, Frosti is no longer restricted to colder climes and has been sighted in such exotic locales as equatorial Africa. There she met a giant mandrill named Murray whose buttocks flared bright Christmas red when he laid eyes on her, and who boned her mercilessly all night beneath the fluffy pink orchards. It was the best sex that she ever had.

Douche Bag!

You can no more convince a douche bag to stop being a douche bag than you can convince water to stop being wet.

Scenes From Life in Houston

On the morning commute down Elgin, what do I see? On one corner, a fully furnished and warmly lit model town home. On another corner, further down into Montrose, a man sleeping on the street. Houses without occupants and people without homes- how is it that they can both exist? Yuppies and rich people have a special place in Hell.

You Try To Hide, But...

All celebrities should be tracked and photographed with night vision cameras like the wild animals they are. They deserve no privacy. We own them. God bless you paparazzi!

The Surge

One of the few images I have made that refers to Katrina, this painting was featured in the two-person show Jeanne and I were in last December at The Joanna. It's about the devastating storm surge caused by Hurricane Katrina in August of 2005, and all of the chaos and confusion that followed both in my life and in the New Orleans area.
Why all of the candy colors and cute lil' critters, then? Well, because for me, Katrina marked the end of a very long childhood, or child-like existence, and the beginning of my having to deal with the harsh realities of adult life. It was the surging flood water that decimated the bedroom sanctuary I inhabited at my dad's house, that took all of my trinkets and my toys, and splayed them all about with the water, filth, and toxic sludge that was waiting for me upon my return from Houston. Sitting on top of the muck were pages that were ripped out of every comic book I owned, pages that I had once perused again and again in my ample leisure time, now torn form their bindings and rearranged by the deluge.
It was the dishevelled collection of a pathetic man-child who needed the harsh slap of Katrina's wet hand to start acting his age and assume responsibility for his own life. This cartoon-colored monstrosity of a painting is an admittance of that.
There are bits in the composition that were borrowed from other sources, such as the Neptune that came from an old National Geographic illustration, the "wonderwall" graphic from the 1984 World's Fair in New Orleans, and the psychedelic pin ball machine backdrop from a 1970's Sesame Street animated sequence. The former is a symbol of the awesome wrath that demolished my hometown of Chalmette, and the latter two are tokens of the youth that was washed away by the storm surge.