I found a heart today on the concrete.

Man do the colours look washed out.
Just new sketches, and & some old ones that weren't scanned before.
I'm also over at the Winters Free Press Blog, so go on and take a look some time.


we have 3 dogs

Here, cruddy webcam photo for your viewing pleasure.
Decided to not follow the guidelines, and place the watercolours into an envelope instead of making it like a little booklet.
Because this ghost moments dont' connect, and they don't create anything, except for a pile of moments that eventually make up a life.
And life isn't a book.
Whenever I say that, I think of that movie where Rene Zellwegghsggher yells to her father "You know, sometimes less isn't more!" *

*One True Thing. Meryl was really good in that one.


Ramu Bottle- Japan culture meets French painting style


It's taking a while, but it's getting there.
You know what I really want to do right now?
Just watch 10 hours of SNL's Weekend Update, especially the ones with Tina Fey & Amy Poehler. I needta laugh.

update on the studio paintings.

watercolours part 2.

ghosts ghost
I read in a book once, where this woman felt the sudden urge to take her friend into her room, both of them gay, and take off their clothes and just be another pair of lovers in NYC. She wanted to sift through her memories with him, memories that were never stories or anecdotes; just let it all tumble out and look at them.
so. is my life these watery moments that have no connection to anything else? or are they someone else's memories?


word, son.

I know I swear often, and I should stop using fuckhairballcocksuckershitpietitgalorenasalbangerhole.
the words I want to stop using so often
are actually


and beautiful

Because I use them often, when I don't really mean it.
and I do not want to see the day when I express something I don't mean
and not understand what love and beauty really is.

So I [greatly admire] the paintings of Gustav Klimt because they are [evocative of passion and highly decorative and decadent].

But really, how do you not love something so beautiful?

Gustav Klimt, Porträt der Eugenia (Mäda) Primavesi (1912)


the pot, the poet

it a shark, you say?
we stare at a slide, enlarged, silent.
my hands are cut, and I relay to myself
about wanting to be your air that runs through your system
about not being noticed but being vital to the life you live

in this red darkness, the dead stares back at us with their
fragmented modulated dynamic secession
gui lt and gui tars

my hands are cut
and I want to be your air

sometimes, we will let down these ghosts,
the wild, the impressed, the expressed, the neo-depressed.
we read we read. but no one knows what really died
50 80 29 years ago

my hands are cut
and I long to be the air

it is not a shark
it is a guitarist
everyone is a guitarist
if he is painted by a cube.

my hands are cut
and I long to be there



Look man, once I install the driver for my scanner into this laptop, everything will be better. For now, both you & I settle for the quick & cruddy webcam.
Watercolours, for Yam's class. & by watercolours, I mean watered down acyrlics.
(Golden Acyrlics-so no, this ain't cheap)
3rd part of the 1st project. I haven't finished any of the three components, and the critique is next week.
I was feeling sick today after painting class, and just went home sweating and shivering and writhing in pain, and left my paints & brushes at Pork U. Unfortunate, I would've like to work on this, and other things.
My birthday may be just over 4 months away, but hints to all you readers
A subscription to Canadian Art Magazine
A student membership to the AGO
is what I'd like.
(Actually, what I'd really want is to see Owen Pallett in concert, but exam period falls in the same week as the show, and school first, beautiful music second. )

of the champ?? (du champ)

Talking about this motherfucker in my next art history term paper.

Oh man, I want to write a letter to all those dead genuises, telling them how incredibly remorseful I am that I mention their lovely works in my crap pile of a thesis.

MARCEL DUCHAMP, The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even (The Large Glass) 1915-1923