Work in Progress

This is a peice that I can barely tear myself away from. I am incorporating collage and oil painting.

As Hackett puts it, "Art is hard". Nobody wants caricatures these days and i am running out of money. i have this idea. I will let you know how it goes. Sometimes in life, you have to begin sentences with "Sometimes in life". Here's a pic of me at my stand. I look happy, but believe me--I am miserable.

New Illos

I just am currently working on an illustration for Barringer's Dead Bug Funeral Kit(see top left). I am glad to be working on this because it gives me a chance to tackling something important--how to draw ghosts. I started off covering the page in powdered graphite, the same stuff you would use for locks. Pure carbon. Then I erased sections and started drawing. I also experimented a lot with my wacom tablet on this one.
Below is a drawing created for my good friend Ramy Ramjet's Hair Salon, "Hair on Broadway". While i was drawing it, she kept saying "Make me prettier! Make me prettier!" I have a strong inclination to draw people ugly. Not sure why. Eventually, i did get the drawing to look just like her--prettiness and all.

Gig at Senior Center

Yesterday, I had a gig at Classic Hyatt Residence, a fairly upscale assisted living facility in Yonkers. Doing caricatures of elderly people can go one way or another, as they tend to not be all that excited about their looks. This group, however, was extremely enthusiastic about participating, and they all lined up with their canes and walkers. I was smitten by them, and at the end of the gig, several of them came up to me and said thank you. It is a fortunate thing to gain insight into the variety of ways that one can age. Some people get a vacant look and their eyes glaze over. Others take a renewed interest in color and friends, and find every excuse to laugh at themselves. The attached is a caricature that i reworked from the senior gig. I am trying to learn how to color using photoshop.

Inaugural Comic

Hi Readers. Today, I finished my first two ever comic book pages. These are a long time coming. Thanks to Matt Madden, my fine teacher at School of Visual Arts, I now know how to lay out a page, ink it, and letter it. The road to successful lettering, as it turns out, will be arduous. I never guessed. That is always the detail i paid the least amount of attention to, when in fact, it among the most important facets. Then there is the narrative. Comics are formal to a point, this extended by the content of the story. This little comic, which you may not be able to read so well, is about a neighbor of mine.  According to Stanley, some people "hook you up"  and others....

Back in NYC

I have been back in NYC for four days. This is my life? This is my apartment? These are my people? Whattayaknow!

I went out for the first time since being back two nights ago with Raya. Disorient/Kostume Kult party. I dressed in *the* silver dress from Oakland, and *the* silver shoes that i bought in south beach, miami.  I hugged the speakers the way someone had showed me,
and listenned to the dj's spin bumpin grooves, and thought hard about Oakland, which i miss. It was different. It was free. It was full of metal workers doing amazing things, unhampered by lack of space.

The above is a pic of the finished product from Coachella.

See pics from project here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/97881715@N00/

More later.

Aforementioned Retroactive Post

More about the cruise (even though everything is different now). (More on "now" tomorrow)

My term of employment on the Century began on the 10th of March, and lasted for 15 days. At the end of the fifteen days, I planned to get in my Volvo, and drive 3000 miles to Oakland, California, where an art project for Coachella awaited, as well as a certain special someone that I looked foward to visiting with.

Raya was to be with me for 10 of the fifteen days (see pic from previous post). I picked up Raya from the airport where we greeted each other with squeals of delight. We left Miami on the 10th of March at which point we undertook to voyage to many islands. So for ten days me and miss Raya roamed around the open seas. We broke hearts, consumed the fare of the natives, spoke in tongues, and enjoyed a great deal of easy listenning which emanated from speakers all over the ship. We smuggled doobage from Jamiaica. We bought art. We played basketball in the moonlight. We partied with fabulous people and enjoyed the best water pressure that I, personally, have ever known.

We shared dinner with a table of six others, with whom we shared stories. Two of them were a couple from Peurto Rico, and the other four were a group of ladies from Chicago. One of them, a weatherman's wife, sported big bobbly rhinestones, a smooth shiny blond ponytail, and thousands of dollars of plastic surgery. She greeted us with pursed red lips and a cool flutter of her lashes.

We partied with the Peurto Rican couple in Cozumel where the Isabel, the girlfriend, pantomimed to us and used her broken English to exclaim her dismay at the cocky attitude of the weatherman's wife. She immitated her by sticking her chest out and pursing her lips. We did a bunch of shots with them, and at dinner it was fun to watch the two women stare daggers at each other. The thing about the weatherman's wife though, was that Raya and I fell in love with her when as she was leaving one night, after we had shared our smuggling story, she said, "Hey, have fun with the..." and then she held a pretend joint to her lips, hand on hip, and elegantly blew a pretend curl of smoke up to the ceiling. She looked radiant against the silhoutted crowd, the way you imagine Marilyn Monroe.


Raya left, and I was by my lonesome for the last five days. I drew my heart out, the audience was appreciative, and their dollar bills floated into my pockets. I roamed the ship and languished in its luxuriousness. I had sunk all to heavily into the understanding that i could throw my clothing on the floor and some mysterious stranger would fold it and repair it to its rightful place while i was away. I drank delicious dirty martinis and consorted with the ship staff.

One day while I drew caricatures in the cafe, the ship's captain came over the PA, and announced that the Century would be stopping for an hour to meet up with another vessel in need of help. The other vessel turned out to be a tiny wooden boat carrying 12 Cuban refugees. The 10 men and two women had covered half their boat with palm leaves as protection from the sun, but looked scorched and tired as they bobbed around on the tumultuous water. Two days later, the coast card met up with our ship, and the refugees, bedecked with life-preservers, emerged from the ship's underbelly and drifted off to their uncertain fate.

Its amazing to look back on this time spent aboard the Century, and to observe the abrupt difference between that experience, and the one I am having now. Just as those refugees set out on a voyage in search of new things, willing to except any consequences, I too am on a similar quest.

My drive from Florida to Oakland went off without a hitch. I now find myself in the fascinating position of having a mini temporary new life complete with all kinds of new friends, a bedroom, and a boyfriend. Its like, my life in a different dimension.

More about Oakland in next post. Oakland Oakland. City of Saturn Returns.