In suits

New poster art. I think I'm going to try to sell the original on gigposters.com or something. The last one I gave away, and the one before that was just a photoshop composite of painting with text overlaid, but this one I've actually still got and I need some W.A.M. soon to deflect all the costs of making slides, and getting transcripts, and paying fees, and overnighting packages.



My first show for 2008. I was much more excited when I was initially invited to be in this show than I am about it now. Most of the artists aren't printmakers, but I guess that just means I get to show everyone else up with my sweet actual printmaker action.


I'll be modeling for Dr. Sketchy's tomorrow (Sunday, December 30th) at Trunkspace in Phoenix, 1506 NW Grand from 7 to 10 pm. I need to dig up something remotely burlesque-y to wear.

Old rejected set. Say stuff about it, if you're so inclined.

2 to 3 years

One day, I want to meet Cory McAbee, so that my mouth may fill with cumbersome rocks, impossible to talk around.

For the past few years, each time I curate a show, I always invite him to participate. He's yet to accept, but always responds with witty demuring emails.

Suicidegirls recently rejected this action:

In this series of photos, I illustrate the American style pronunciation of Roethke. Very informative. Click on the picture if you're the sort interested in that manner of thing.


I'm knee deep in graduate school application nonsense. I've narrowed my list down to 5 schools, and am laboring away at the essays, attempting wit and brevity and brilliance in short 120 eighty character lines. The great morass of slides was reduced to a coherent and Spartan 20 (15 for Austin), but I'm afraid that I can't find any of my old ethings to include. Hopefully, that one oversite won't cost me. The hope is that Long Beach, Austin, Chicago, Providence, or Minneapolis will be my residence of 2 to 3 years at least.

Any of you Phoenicians reading this should consider attending the last Phoenix Dr. Sketchy's of 2007 at Trunk Space, Dec. 30th. I shall be there, this time for reals.

Salt Lake, Again

At my friend Xkot's salon, Elegba has a spot in the corner, next to the door (where Elegba should be) and I imagine, that given Xkot's reputation for being so adept at cutting children's hair, Elegba must lose quite a few of his lollipops. Xkot gives people a slightly different version of themselves, the well coiffed and groomed version, so it seems fitting that Elegba is there to be ingratiated to at this occasion, this switching over. I went to a printmaker's lecture once where the artist showed us slides, and before she turned the lights back on to resume the lecture, she gave a small offering to Elegba, because she didn't know what would be there when the lights went back on. That's how I first met Eshu, first heard of what he was responsible for.

Above Elegba, my dinosaur and nervous hospital pony stand next to Xkot's heart. Xkot gave me a hair cut, and it took him not quite all of five minutes. Xkot has my two favorite dolls from this series, or at least he has them in his salon until I take them back or someone buys them. I keep meaning to take those two, the nervous pony, and the bighanded cautius little man, but always decide that whoever buys art from a salon with Elegba in the corner in Utah of all places, must be a good sort and a deserving home.



My sister's children adore me. I find it's easy to maintain such adoration when you see someone rarely and always bring gifts when you do visit. And well worth the getting of presents to hear the crimson haired hellions yell a garbled version of your name shrilly when you arrive.






My favorite gallery was sold. After January, Kayo Gallery will be in the hands of a some strange woman, who may not be so lax about display methods as Kenny was. I tensely await the outcome.

Sketchy

This is, I think, my third time modeling for Dr. Sketchy's Phoenix.

I'm bringing the monkey.

Some Souls

The Monkey! All paper mache, excepting the spine which is filled with metal pipe, and insulation foam. That's me with the fake mustache.



After many trials and tribulations, not least of which was the spine suddenly snapping, the (squirrel) monkey is finished. David B. and I endured much wheatpaste dried on our arms, and sunscreen was used liberally. David V. swept in at the last minute and gently persuaded us to believe in the merits of structural integrity. We were dapper in our bowties and tophats, but as soon as the hats came off, we just looked like nothing more than a gang of disgruntled wait staff.

Now I need to think up excuses to bring him out again.


These photos are by Kevin Patterson.

All Souls Procession Website

skills extend to

My skateboarding skills extend to moving in a fairly straight line, avoiding inclines, and doing that little jump to get over cracks.

Acrylic on wooden deck, shirt.




The pink one in the middle:


Show info here.
Closing reception on November 2nd.

I highly recommend you buy one of my decks, because I really don't want to have them after the show comes down. How do you even store that thing? It's shaped all wonky.

Paper mache in process, results forthcoming:

Bizarre sunburn

Super Fun Activity Challenge!

That, the above, is the never show I'm putting together. "Predilection" is at an end, all that's left is to get checks cut and mail portfolios to the out of state artists.

The Super Fun Activity Challenge is open to everyone, but there's limited space so not all entries will be used. So make yours amazing.


I push sunscreen on people like it's an addictive substance that I've a large stake in, and use it myself with such devotion, it's a wonder I've not been whited out entirely. Sadly, all of that discipline was for naught, and I got a bizarre shaped sunburn while working on what will become a giant monkey skeleton. Now it's all itchy and painful and weird looking, like a half assed attempt at those insipid wing tattoos.



The monkey skeleton is that of a squirrel monkey. Squirrel monkeys have the greatest brain to body ratio of all simians (1/17, whereas we humans are at 1/35) and the females of the species number among the exclusive membership of those possessing pseudo peni. My squirrel monkey is made out of paper mache, and is intended for the Day of the Dead Parade coming up soon in Tucson. As work as progressed on the monkey, I've become less generous with its company. Initially, we were going to let anyone who wanted to help carry it around, but now we're only letting people who've actually worked on it (with one exception) tote it around on dowels. That unsatiated itch on my back might have something to do with it, and the tiny piles of wheatpaste, dried on my skin and then picked off, throughout the house might have something to do with my miserliness as well.



Two other artists and I went on a four day long roadtrip to Salt Lake City (two days driving, two days in SLC). One had never been to SLC before, and the other hadn't lived there in years and only had family in the city. I was careful about which of my friends we hung out with, choosing the most gregarious, clever, and friendly (a journalist, a musician, and a painter) of the bunch so that the out of towners wouldn't feel alienated and weird. By the end of the trip, Steph and David had this utopic vision of SLC (it is pretty cool), that all the artists in the city had great stories to tell, had sudden parties filled with adorable cyclists, and accepted strangers with open arms. I nearly drank the draught too, and was filled with nostalgia for my hometown. But I'll return a champion and victor or nothing at all, and elusive victory is not yet mine.

It snowed the second day we were in town. I was not dressed for the weather.



Phoenicians, you all should come out for my second Swap-o-rama-rama this Sunday, the 14th. The last one got a "Best of" award from Phoenix New Times (though the yellow journalists of the rag failed to cite my name, and only included the names of the venue owners). I even screenprinted posters. How's that for DIY ethic?

Good Way

I'm so busy I think I may vomit from the stress, but, you know, in a good way.

baser emotions

Preliminary sketch for Jason Webley poster. Antlers? Yes or now? I think that they are necessary, just as much as the accordion. I'm going to burn the screen for this tomorrow, so I need to finish it up fast. I would have drawn it faster, but I spent a good portion of my day futzing around with fliers.


Deck! No, I don't skateboard. In fact, when given a deck for a skateboard, I render it useless. If you asked me if you could use this for it's intended purpose, if you may ride it, I would respond "No. No, you may not." And that is the title of the piece. This is for a show opening at MonOrchid in Phoenix on the 20th of October. Here's a little gem 'o' knowledge for you: monorchid means "one testicle." I think I know something personal about the gallery owner, and I've yet to even meet the man. If you really want to know why I participated in this show, I will tell you. MonOrchid is in this grand warehouse. It's gorgeous, and every time I go to a show there I want to be a part of its little loose stable of artists, just to show in such a space. There's always a door in the corner, ajar, with sounds of muted merrymaking coming from behind it. But there is also always a miniature pencil skirted woman behind the door, stopping any unwanted entrants with "this is a private party." And now, friends, now I can get into that private party. And by god, if there's no private party for this show, I'll go buy a sixpack and a tent, and an automated tiny doll shooing other interested people away. Yes, it may appal you to find that I am subject to the baser emotions of envy, but there it is.


The aforementioned futzing really shouldn't have eaten up so much time. I mean really, look at this. The other fliers aren't much more complex than this one. And because this one is so lacklustre, I'm going to invest even more time in the bowels of Photoshop vainly labouring at making a better one.

wet

Self explanatory:



These pictures were taken by David Bessent for the purpose of entering Nerve.com's monthly photo contest, but I don't think they loaded. I'm ok with this, as I was just pleased to go swimming. And we went swimming twice! Because the first time the lighting was terrible.


And I cut all of my hair off. Again. I make decisions when I'm hungry and irritable.

Have you ever seen Swingers? I had an experience eerily like a scene in that movie recently.

I went to the Hell City Tattoo Convention last weekend, to spend a day being asked where my tattoos were (no where) and to hang out with my friend Zoetica while she was in town running the Suicidegirls booth. One day at a convention and I'm still exhausted. And not surprisingly, not a soul could pronounce "Roethke" with any degree of ease. Sometimes I wish I had chosen something easier. There's a few blurry photos over on my Flickr, but for the most part, I was in the photos, not taking them--smiling like I was about to eat your eyeballs direct from the socket and vulgarly jutting my hips out because showing off that extra sternum in a lowcut shirt doesn't really measure up to all of the ladies with something other than sternum to show off under there (and believe me, it was hard not to stare).

Upcoming soirees and to-dos:
Predilection: Print Exchange
Opening concurrently at Kayo Gallery in Salt Lake City and Trunk Space Gallery in Phoenix on September 21st.

The Deck Show
Opening at MonOrchid in Phoenix on October 28th.

I'm in process proposing some other stuff in the LA, Phoenix and San Francisco areas, but I'm scaling down my somewhat unweildy exhibition schedule. I've had a few bad experiences with galleries as of late, so now I'm going to make an effort to only show at places where I know them or where my friends know them.

Pasties

Dr. Sketchy's last night: Big hair, tons of makeup, and ridiculous outfit.


I got to live out the secret childhood dream to have pointy ears. I had given much thought to how to execute those ears, and they turned out so well! Sadly, I don't think anyone actually drew them.

I made all of the stuff day of, inbetween making sudden urgent orders for g-string dildo harnesses. Then I found out that the organizers would have provided a costume had I asked. Oh well, now I know how to make pasties, and a now useless set of paper mache horns.


Of the drawings, here's a couple of my favorites. You can click the picture to see my Flickr with all the other photos I took.

awkward jerking motions

The first thing upon arrival in Salt Lake City was to get my hair cut at Blitz. The mohawk had grown out, and the mullet-hawk was attracting way too many red neck lesbians. Xkot had opened a new salon, and he traded me a haircut for a doll. I came out the winner of the deal, as I was givng him a doll anyway. I wanted a pompadour, but I don't really know how to style it now, so it's not nearly as tough looking a coiffure as I had hoped for. I do not foresee anyone getting the impression that I can handle myself in a knife fight, but at least I look groomed for the opening.

The recent extensive fires in the Salt Lake City area filled the sky with ash and debris. As soon as I landed and up until I left, I felt like someone was squeezing my lungs, hacking and coughing as though I had never quit smoking. It's strange to long for the sunbaked Phoenix air.

Onto the show. Everything went off perfectly, or as much as one could expect. Everything arrived on time, the setup was fast, and Kenny even loaned me a frame when I said I was going to try to find one at a thrift store. Kayo Gallery was the perfect space, with it's high white walls, white ceiling, and dark black floor. In other galleries, my black on white stuff has to compete with all of the more colorful decor, and it often loses out, but at Kayo, with its clinical sterility, it looked wonderful.

The sign, "You may gently interfere with their lives," was viewed as another piece, and a couple of people inquired about purchasing it. But I simply couldn't justify selling a bad ink jet printout, and told them to just make their own.

More children than ever showed up this time, though, and the way they behaved was telling of the way they were raised. One kid wouldn't stop kicking things until I asked him and his mother to leave. Children are terrifying to me. You can't actually stop them from doing stuff unless they're your offspring, and sometimes those progenitors are reluctant to do any stopping. For the most part, though, the children who were there were very well behaved. One little girl, when given permission to touch the pieces, looked terribly confused. It seemed that gallery and museum etiquette had been drilled into her, and now here I was, undoing all of those lessons. So she and I talked about how it's ok to touch things in galleries if someone first tells you it's ok.

Brian Staker wrote a nice piece about the show, which came out post opening, so maybe it will drum up some more sales. Hug This

The catmen have hair in their little vials, and as always, I was asked many times whose hair it was. "The Russian's hair." I would answer. "Where's he?" to which I could honestly respond "Russia."


Salt Lake City at large:

We had brunch at Broken Record Bar and Grill, formerly Todd's Bar and Grille. It seemed near scandalous to me to be in a bar so early in the day, even if I wasn't drinking. The most debauchery was Matt getting a Bloody Mary, though, and the music being too loud.

Atop the light fixture suspended over the pool table, was a tiny plastic rabbit. And I pocketed it. And then I tried out the macro setting on my new camera.

Four of my friends have bought condos since last I was there. Condos are the next step in being a grownup, but I'm hoping it's a step I will skip. Matt showed off the newly installed harwood floors and took us on a tour of the grounds, the repainted walls, yet to be grouted brick walkways, and we stood on tiptoe to peer over the barricade at the pool, mid refurbishment and with signs warning about the toxic levels of chlorine currently in the water. The doors have high tech peepholes.

The space that Kayo Gallery used to occupy now is home to Nobrow Coffee. The only coffeeshop I've ever been in that actually has consistently good art shows. This time, there was an installation, with columns of beans and wire, and little yarn bouquets on wheels on each table.

New shoes from Frosty Darling, that I tortured extensively over before purchasing them.

Saturday evening, we reluctantly went to a BBQ. Despite the hostess thinking that chicken wasn't an animal, it was pretty fun and I never got hassled for my nomeat burger. Two of the guests were these pit fighting or cage fighting guys. They're job is to beat each other up in front of a crowd. They discussed the economics of this profession, how they refuse to fight one particular contender because they'd lose, and the participation money wouldn't cover the cost of stitches afterwards. I tried to engage one of them in a conversation about the Ultimate Warrior (the old WWF wrestler) but he's more interested in talking about actual fighing, and I realize that I prefer fiction over reality in most situations, and excuse myself and start a hulahoop contest with his daughter instead. Later, I taught them all how to play Cowboy/Ninja/Bear, and consider myself very clever for thinking of a game that can be played by both drunk cage fighters and 6 year olds without anyone getting terrible bored or confused.

I've lost some friends since I left SLC, and I don't know why. One simply won't acknowledge my existence. I'd really like to know what happened, what I may have done or failed to do. But if he won't call me back or answer the phone, there's not much I can do about it than realize there's one more reason besides the air in SLC to kill the nostalgia. But, I did find that someone who I thought disliked me does not, and even danced gracefully and prettily next to my awkward jerking motions.


Baby hobo super fast illustration for a satirical article about running away from home. Drawn from a photo of my newest nephew.


Did I tell you I'm trying to get into illustration more? Well, consider yourself told. Should you need an illustration of anything, then you should contact me.

And now I'm home, and getting back to work and trying to calm down the people who want their floggers right right now, immediately, maybe even five minutes ago, and finishing up piles and piles of belts and dildo harnesses.