PAINtings

I'm one of those marginal artists who would set up a little table on a street corner and hopefully sell my weird, ugly, outsider canvases to the passing passerby. Sure. Outsider. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. I don't give a fuck about using art, music, or writing to buy into the "Pod People" fantasy of the American Dream, as the late Adam Parfrey put it in Apocalypse Culture. If you like what I do, great; if not, IDGAF.

"Pod People aspire to a manicured destiny..." Adam Parfrey

There is nothing "manicured" about my artwork. It's ugly clowns, rotting faces, serial killers, and hard luck cases. Life stinks, huh? I suppose I reflect the ugliness within. The world is ugly, has treated me ugly, and if I let the ugliness within get out, I'd be doing a long stretch in the slams (as the X-headed Manson honeys used to so cheerfully refer to it). Anyway, FTW. It has all the justice and logic of a bad fever dream after a heavy Mexican dinner. And, eventually, it vanishes. After that, who knows?

It's harder and harder to convince myself to actually do art. Unless I sell something, and then I'm enthusiastic all over again. I suppose my drawings of serial killers and the notorious (Bundy, Dahmer, Lizzie Borden, Mary Bell, Albert Fish, Ed Gein, victims of Jack the Ripper; and a really great caricature of Arthur Rimbaud), could I manage to make myself put them on canvas, could eventually earn me a pretty penny.

I love ugliness. I love beauty, too; but only flawed beauty, tragic beauty. The fallen starlets of yesteryear, that's MY kind of obsession: Marilyn Monroe, Mabel Normand, Florence Lawrence, Amy Winehouse, Sharon Tate, I suppose Jayne Mansfield. Va-va-vavoom, baby! Tragic women compel me.

Tragic women, and the "Little Men," the marginals; these are "mine." The weird, queer, and the fringe characters who live a "twilight life." Joseph Carey Merrick, Count von Cosel, Victor Ardisson, Arthur Rimbaud, Renzo Novatore, Arthur Desmond--these couldn't be as different from one another as imaginable (with the exception of Von Cosel and Ardisson), but this feels like my archetype, my karma in this goddamned world, and so be it. Pod People worry about "fitting in" in the grand scheme of things, in a world that is as terrible and capricious as a garden-variety psychopath. They want their beauty and ugliness to be separate issues, preferring their perception of beauty and "talent" and often awarding their hard-earned cash and filthy lucre to the most banal, uninspiring, and unworthy shit. But those are value judgments, and as an El Numero Uno Eh Number Won CHAMPEEN Existential Nihilist (at least according to the AI), I don't MAKE value judgments. Really, if you scarf your own shit such as G.G. Allin did, I still might find a place for you in the ashen depths of my coal-black, still-beating heart. It is to laugh, chuckle, snort, grin, and stuff a finger up the clam.

So here is an offering to you, my slaughtered, burning, bloody, blackened bones of a "vision." That vision, since the day I was forced from the womb to start my journey to the tomb, has revolved in a world of ugliness and decay. I detach from this reality, and accept it as the hallucinogenic science fiction nightmare that it is; my art reflects my inner life. The clown can be menacing, but he can also be FUN. Fun is the Law, as it used to say in Boyd Rice's old Unpop website.

The decaying faces, the notorious faces--my inspiration for art was initially the hyper-detailed ghetto portraiture of intensely macabre horror artist Joe Coleman. I'm an aficionado of R. Crumb, Richard Corban, H.R. Geiger, and a few artists I know on Facebook. Edward Gorey I like; the surrealists and Dadaists fascinate me. I love nearly ALL horror art, comic book art, pulp fiction art, Heavy Metal magazine, and old comic book stuff.

Anyway, talk is cheap. Here are a few short videos of paintings I've been trying to sell, some for years. I sell all the good ones, I suppose. If you see something you like, don't be afraid to message me. My email is [email protected]. My Paypal is [email protected]. Love and napalm. Here's blood in your eye. Ciao.

"Harelip at the Madhouse Gates". Been trying to sell this one, which is one of my favorite paintings, for YEARS. Acrylic on stretched canvas. 11 x 22.

"Bojangles With a Lantern Hat." A guy on YouTube said, when I posted this short, "Dude, I was just about to go to sleep." (Sinister laugh.) 11 x 9 on wooden frame.

"The Clown Weeps." Another favorite I could never figure out why no one wanted. 16 x 20 0n wooden frame. Acrylic.

"Death Boy." This one actually sold. One of the best I ever did.

"Cranial Tumor". 9 x 12. Acrylic.

"He Exhaled a Fine Mist of Blood." 14 x 11 canvas wooden frame.

"Green With Envy." 11 x 14 stretched canvas.

"Untitled." Acrylic on stretched canvas. 11 x 17.