This piece is a revival of the romantic assertion that the artist's soul should be revealed in a work of art. In my next painting I'm going to staple sex toys to the canvas.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Art Smarty says be square and obey the laws of the pack.
This piece is a revival of the romantic assertion that the artist's soul should be revealed in a work of art. In my next painting I'm going to staple sex toys to the canvas.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Soap Opera Dialogue (It doesn't matter which one.)
"I was always intimidated by Miguel's culinary talents."
"You didn't read what he wrote in his journal? ...His glamorous Mother is in prison!"
"I find the man interesting."
"Mm-hmm. Instead of Aliens living among us, Victor thinks he may be over-reacting."
"Oh, dear. What Aliens?"
"I'm no counselor, just a guy who loves his brother."
"Meaning?"
"I'll tell the Court you broke probation to take an underage girl on a drunken joyride."
"Don't do that to yourself, you're just upset because there's a page missing from your shakespearean sonnet."
Friday, November 20, 2009
Subway drawings
I overheard a teenager talking to his Gran about me while I was drawing.
Gran: "He's talented."
Kid: " I'm talented too! Ya wanna see what I can do? I'll drop-kick this guy."
Monday, October 5, 2009
Another Visit with Xuxa
Our last trip to Brasil included a pop-in on Xuxa. Every square inch of her house is covered in art. And so were we, after modeling her clothes.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Street Art Project
Since no one wants to buy my art I had the idea of setting up shop at various NYC locations and giving the work to anyone passing by who showed interest. This was before Help me Howard was giving away cash on the street but proved just as difficult. These are pictures of a few people who accepted my lavish donation. Art to the people, y'all!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Dane's bucket list (If I owned a bucket).
The Sistine Chapel. Everyone should see it at least once before they meet the Wiz. If only for the fact that if you show up in shorts they will make you buy paper pants. I think they should make all the naked people on the ceiling wear paper pants… “And God named the first man Adam, and gave him paper pants, and he was not ashamed.”
The Berlin Wall. Members of “The Hoff” (the David Hasselhoff Fan Club), meet annually at a remnant of the wall on East 53rd st. in Manhattan, next to Burger Heaven. When not professing their love for Baywatch, conversation gravitates around Cuckoo Clocks, and cleaning, and sausages.
Paris. If you’re going to gain 7 pounds anyway, forget the crepe, apply Nutella directly to your thighs.
LA’s Korean Taco Truck: I asked for “A Dog Bended Like Beckham”. To my chagrin, apparently this is not the universal code for Dogmeat Taco.
When in New York, I recommend that you see my analyst, Dr. Piblokto. I don’t know what I enjoy more, his plastic covered couch, the cream-colored carpeting in the vestibule, or the early-19th century seascape precariously tilted to one side in the patient bathroom. Sometimes I get angry about his ashtrays, but then we talk about it, and my delusions of being possessed by a Windigo subside and we can concentrate on my episodes of frotteurism at whale watching events.
Jonathan Salon in Beverly Hills. Tell him you have a hairy butt and you’d like him to take a little off the bottom.
The Berlin Wall. Members of “The Hoff” (the David Hasselhoff Fan Club), meet annually at a remnant of the wall on East 53rd st. in Manhattan, next to Burger Heaven. When not professing their love for Baywatch, conversation gravitates around Cuckoo Clocks, and cleaning, and sausages.
Paris. If you’re going to gain 7 pounds anyway, forget the crepe, apply Nutella directly to your thighs.
LA’s Korean Taco Truck: I asked for “A Dog Bended Like Beckham”. To my chagrin, apparently this is not the universal code for Dogmeat Taco.
When in New York, I recommend that you see my analyst, Dr. Piblokto. I don’t know what I enjoy more, his plastic covered couch, the cream-colored carpeting in the vestibule, or the early-19th century seascape precariously tilted to one side in the patient bathroom. Sometimes I get angry about his ashtrays, but then we talk about it, and my delusions of being possessed by a Windigo subside and we can concentrate on my episodes of frotteurism at whale watching events.
Jonathan Salon in Beverly Hills. Tell him you have a hairy butt and you’d like him to take a little off the bottom.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Poverty sharpens the eye.
This series is a nod to Risa Mickenberg's Taxi Driver Wisdom. I'm playing with pen and ink for the first time in a long time, so in case you thought you could identify my style out of a line-up, this should keep you guessing. As for my sources, the majority of the quotes are from Merlin, a gifted, but slightly psychotic, homeless man who's sermons were held on the platform of the 53rd street V.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
What I was thinking in the last five seconds...
Is it me, or does electro-shock therapy seem really uncomfortable?
There is a squirrel crossing the power line in front of our house. You couldn't pay me enough zoo dollars to do that. Incidentally, I suspect that the squirrels in my neighborhood have organized. They are routinely jumping and scratching at my door, like Force 10 from Navarone, trying to absquatulate with my Indian Corn.
I'm sick to my stomach from eating the pictures in Gourmet magazine.
I can't wait to go off-roading in my Rascal scooter. I'm going to have it detailed with flames shooting out the back and "Big Foot" spraypainted on the side. I imagine it will be a real hit at Monster Truck shows. Me in my hiphuggers, cataract protectors, and little bell so people move the fuck out of my way.
I found a defective fork in my junk drawer. I feel like a defective fork. There's only room for one defective fork in my apartment. Great, now I have to move.
There is a squirrel crossing the power line in front of our house. You couldn't pay me enough zoo dollars to do that. Incidentally, I suspect that the squirrels in my neighborhood have organized. They are routinely jumping and scratching at my door, like Force 10 from Navarone, trying to absquatulate with my Indian Corn.
I'm sick to my stomach from eating the pictures in Gourmet magazine.
I can't wait to go off-roading in my Rascal scooter. I'm going to have it detailed with flames shooting out the back and "Big Foot" spraypainted on the side. I imagine it will be a real hit at Monster Truck shows. Me in my hiphuggers, cataract protectors, and little bell so people move the fuck out of my way.
I found a defective fork in my junk drawer. I feel like a defective fork. There's only room for one defective fork in my apartment. Great, now I have to move.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Xuxa de Itatiaia
We visited the home of an outsider artist in Brasil. She is the patient of a certain psychoanalyst friend of ours. She paints everything she owns... broomsticks, cigarettes, shoes, tree stumps. She gave us outfits to wear, and we climbed trees, and danced to music. Here is the link to a video interview.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6_0J9QtWCs
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