Another Odosketch

Depending on the way a person looks at it, childhood isolation can be seen as a cruel form of punishment. In other words, no one enjoys being in "time out."

My first odosketch using a tablet. This is "Caroline," my evil invention! Muhaha (:

Chulahoma

This piece is pretty much my first true experiment with color. I was always afraid to use color, so I would avoid doing so as much as possible (I now, however, work mostly in color).This is also my first piece that incorporates another person's work. I usually work off my imagination alone, but I love this album and album cover so much that I decided to add on to what already exists. Not too bad for my first try. I may redo it now that I have a legit sense in what I want. But for now, not bad. (:

The Black Keys, Chulahoma: The Songs of Junior Kimbrough

Pennywise's Brother

A creepy, burnt clown head I found while exploring the remains of the house that exploaded in Rancho Cordova in 2008. Rancho Cordova Explosion

Cool Accordion Guy

A photo I took of accordionist Ilya Kreymer at last years Haight St. Fair. Just thought it was cool. (:

Cigarettes

Pass me that cancer stick, and

Push the poison down my throat.

My heart and my breath

Harmonize and synchronize.

Exhale, inhale:

Cyanide to carbon dioxide.

I look down to the floor,

And see pieces of my hair

Curled into a pile,

Spiraling like a wicked web.

I need a cigarette.

Walking to the corner store,

I can barely keep my balance.

The cashier can’t understand a word I say,

So I just point to the red carton:

Two, one for now, one for later.

Now back to that room,

White and square.

The man next to me says,

‘Pass me that cancer stick.’

He looks down at the floor,

And sees pieces of his hair.

I hear his heart and breath

Harmonized and synchronized

As he exhales and inhales

Cyanide to carbon dioxide.

Instead of posting a long rant about why I hate cigarettes, and milking that good ol' quote about how cigarettes kill more Americans than many other leading causes of death COMBINED, and going on and on about how they are plainly a way of institutionalizing people (specifically Americans), I decided to post this pretty short poem. I wrote this a few months ago, probably around the time I drew "Steve," and thought it deserved a nice spot on my blog.

Oh, and just a note, I come from a family of smokers, and have spent much too much of my youth trying to find ways of convincing them to quit. All my attempts have failed.... so far.

Steve

Just thought I'd start this blog off with a little doodle I did a few months ago. As simplistic as it is, it really marks the moment in time when I finally realized what it means to bleed emotion into art. "Steve" begins a new chapter in my life: How To Make Art That Means Something.