I rediscovered this sketchbook a couple months ago. I date it back to somewhere between 1998 or 1999. When I shoplifted it from the CVS on Wheeler Road in Central Islip New York. It was with me all the time during my first few years of bouncing and somehow it's one of the few possessions I had back then that still exists now. It was cool to take a walk down memory lane and see where I started. It's funny how art was all I ever had in my control at that time and this is still a fact today. This was the first sketchbook when my peers told me- "Hey man, maybe you should do tattoos..." Let's time travel back to that misfit, that outcast, the horror obsessed Juggalo I used to be. Don't get me wrong- I'm still the same motherfuxker. I just don't have to shoplift my art supplies anymore... Until I do.
Sometimes, you have to fight. No matter the stakes, no matter how strong or imposing your opponent may be. Others may tell you that you are bound to lose. Shit, you may know it in your heart that its a no win situation but you choose to fight anyway out of pure survival instinct or principle. Win or lose, you chose this battle. Cool. Other times, the fight comes to you. Its someone else’s choice and you are just on the surprise end of the altercation. Maybe its wrong place, wrong time, maybe its karma & you just simply earned an ass whooping. Maybe you just shine a little too bright & someone has to try and snuff you out in just feel better about themselves. Still, in some cases, you’re just an opportunity for someone else to release their rage. No matter what the scenario- YOU ARE GOING TO GET BITCH-SLAPPED, KICKED IN THE JUNK, SNUFFED, JUMPED, ROBBED, PUNKED, ATTACKED, MOLLY WHOPPED, STUCK IN THE DONNYBROOK, EVENTUALLY. IT WILL HAPPEN. YOU WILL GET PUNCHED IN THE FACE.
Knowing that this is an eventuality rather than a possibility, PREPARE. If I was addressing you about physical self defense, I’d talk about angles and physical distance, training your body, mind and combative techniques and always packing the weapon you’ve trained with. However, in this case, I’m talking about mental & emotional self defense when it comes to being an artist in the real world. As artists, we put our all into the work that we create. We find our motivation, niche, tribe of supporters & fellow creatives BUT- There’s always some asshole looking to shit in your cereal and ruin your day. So my advice is similar to that of physical defense but specifically targeted to a variety of haters that can destroy motivation, make you question your value as an artist, force a negative connotation to your work from a definition they’ve designed. Or in general, they will- bother, harass, provoke or insult you or your work. 1. “You suck, don’t quit your day job. This person I know; that you don’t care about is better than you in every possible way. Please kill yourself promptly.” They may be envious of your passion, may have given up on their craft, or may have been victimized by the same negative shit they regurgitate upon you. In reality, 9x out of 10, this is someone looking for attention in some way. Your best bet is not to give it to them. End the conversation because you have work to do. Find a better place to be that is not this asshole’s natural habitat, or smile, nod and turn up the volume on your headphones. Delete the comment, block the user and move on. Just like a jackel getting kicked in the face by a gazelle, they’ll move on and look for an easier target.
2. “Hey buddy! I’m your condescending family member, friend, peer, coworker, teacher, lover, that wants to tell you that your passion is bullshit, no one will ever care or if they do it won’t be until you’re dead! Let me list the numerous people that I know that failed at this so you can make the smart choice and be just like me!” From my experience, you are most likely dealing with someone that actually thinks that they are helping you, knows your situation and want the best for you. They are afraid that your pursuit of the arts will end in failure because in their eyes any creative pursuit is doomed to fail. Only the special, enlightened ones amongst us can ascend to such heights! Who the fuxk are you to presume that- YOU, CAN DO THIS? On a much less frequent basis, you may be dealing with someone that tried & gave up or tried and failed and as a result, you are not allowed to weather the storm & progress or succeed in general. If its someone close to you, I recommend talking it out. Not only is this a way to deal with the argument BUT, sometimes these conversations reveal useful information or reveal holes in your strategy. It can become a way to keep yourself honest, give you motivation to move forward despite opposition and be the reason you take that business class or explore different revenue streams using your art. However, overall, you want to assert that you are an artist. You’re going to continue working towards that goal but you are willing to listen to advice as long as it’s applicable to what you want to do. If they are not cool with your use of this their input from your point of view- The gods gave you two middle fingers for a reason. USE THEM.
3. “Well, you’re no (Insert highly revered contemporary artist/classical artist you may have heard of or studied in school.) maybe you’re just not cut out for this…” All artistic disciplines consist of a various factors but for the most part it boils down to talent and skill. Talent is how much natural ability the Muses bestowed on you when the gods flipped on the light switch, breathed fire in your clay shape, and spun your fate upon the wheel. It’s a great asset and we all have some even if you’re not aware or even if it only manifests as having an eye for beauty. Your skill set will eventually surpass that talent and its up to you as an individual artist to hone, sharpen, and perfect that killing edge over the course of your lifetime. You will not be on the level of your idols and contemporaries immediately or without time, experimentation and considerable effort that consists of turning out shit work, making mistakes and allowing yourself to learn from failure. The only way you fail in totality in this effort is by allowing this voice in your ear to get you to stop. Again, the answer is to adjust the music volume on your headphones, wait for the chorus, then present both middle fingers proudly. You already know the road ahead and comparison is just another big, bad, wolf trying to lead you astray.
4. The showboats: This happens on 2 levels. Level 1. Someone with a little more experience trys to rub it in your face to stroke their own ego. This is usually a peer, mentor, or arrogant troll. If you do tattoos, you’ll post something on social media and get a comment ripping your design apart. They’ll plug themselves in the post to attack your client base. If you’re a musician, there’s always that person with a little more experience trying to show off or take you to the narcissistic learning tree in front of your peers to prove to themselves how awesome they are. If you draw, paint, dance, make ice sculptures or eat fire- some motherfuxker is always going to try and 1 up you to satisfy their ego. The solution: It’s fight or fuxk off. If you choose fight: you use this condescending banter as motivation to surpass your rival with grace and dignity. You go to the lab, and work, produce work that is better and better until you can’t see that person in your rear views anymore. If you choose Fuxk Off: it’s the same process as the fight option, except you pick a moment when that person is just a spec in your rear view. You stop and look back, reintroduce yourself and thank them for their advice. Ask how things are going and compliment their work. Smile a lot. As human animals, the only socially acceptable way to bare your teeth at an enemy is a smile…
Level 2: It’s all in your head. The showboats are anyone that has a better handle on their creative endeavors than you. You swallow the bitter pills of advice and encouragement like poison because THEY have a bazillion followers, THEY have a substantial platform, THEY make more art than you, more money than you, have been doing this longer than you and all you can see is red every time their names are mentioned…. Calm down. It’s all good. Solution: Understand that the path we walk is long and beset on all sides by threats. There’s the threat of failure, poverty, insanity, being taken advantage off, falling into obscurity, giving up, being derailed by others, being derailed by our own idiosyncrasies, the plateau, death before discovery, the dream unrealized and worst of all- dying with regret that you could have tried, pushed harder, never relented, never surrendered. If you see someone up ahead on that same trail, deftly maneuvering around the spikes and swinging axes that bar the way. If they are climbing an impossible mountain or walking through fire- and you, you’re still right here, lacing up your boots and starting out- That means that some of us survive this Gauntlet. If they survived, excelled and continued… So can you.
Accept that there are levels to this shit. Seeing people above you does not prevent your ascension. It just makes it real and possible. If they can make it through- so can you. Allow those further down the path to advise and inspire you. After all, that’s what all of this creativity fosters naturally. The desire for others with the same drive to follow the examples set, surpass their legacies and inspire those brand new artists to do rather than simply dream… The first time I got punched in the face was on a playground during recess. 3rd or 4th grade I believe… IT HURT. I FELL BACK. I GOT BACK UP… The battle continued. 2 little bastards fighting over nothing because that’s what little kids do. It’s our natural world conditioning. Black eyes, bloody lips… There was no winner but that fight had to happen. This is what the Spartans called “Agoge.” The brutal rite of passage into maturity. There will be pain, anguish, depression, fear, euphoria… The only rule is that we all have to keep fighting no matter what this world tries to take from us. You can fight with your fists, your words, your heart, your pen. It doesn’t matter. The fight is worthwhile. You can fight the outside threats, your inner demons or yourself. That fight is worthwhile. You can fight for your family, your friends, the world, a cause, time itself, the world in general or just yourself. Keep swinging, stabbing, gouging, dick kicking and biting. The fight is worthwhile. This is how we counterbalance the hideous chaos of the world with the beautiful chaos of imagination and emotional transference. A wise man once said- “In order to be the man, you have to beat the man.” Sometimes that man, is you. (Despite gender implications or age) Always remember that growing, building yourself and moving forward in life always come with conflict. There will be pain, it will leave scars. However, as long as you keep getting up when the world knocks you down… YOU ARE UNSTOPPABLE.
I died as an artist many times. It’s not so complicated. Just like the concept of a romantic drowning; drink in the darkness, and just let it take you. Just fade to black and don’t fight it. Accept fate. Accept failure.
The killing room begins to fill slowly at first. Trickles and droplets from the naysayers and those pessimistic opinions that say creativity is a waste of time. They tell you to settle on a real job and put your childish things away.
Go be a cop, go be a cog, go with the flow.
Learn how to stay in line, learn how to follow.
9 to 5.
Paycheck to paycheck.
That’s how you make it in this world and there is no other way unless you’re special
and there’s nothing special about you.
Now the water is up to my ankles and still rising. My feet are wet but these middle fingers are fine, so fuck you.
So I just keep fighting.
I work the jobs, create in my free time, and try to maintain momentum. That invisible struggle with time is distracting from the coldness of the water rising over my knees.
Bills are adding up,
overtime- over mine,
and I haven’t picked up a pencil in months.
In relation to relationships; it’s impossible to explain why
My quality time is not in line with our quality time.
Why can’t I just pick up the phone and respond when she calls?
Why am I never present in the moment instead of being stuck in my head?
Why are you wasting our time with this? It’s never going to get you anywhere.
It’s a fucking waste of time.
They’re the same words that started the flood but these hurt worse because they come from the ones that I loved. The cut is deeper and the wound bleeds out into the cold darkness that’s rising over my chest.
I used to have an outlet for these feelings, for this stress and there used to be an escape from the world when it was bringing me down but now I’ve let those tools fall away. What I have in my hands is chemical misery and it completes the drowning process the more of it that you allow to pour down your throat.
There is bliss in oblivion. I’d drifted into the abyss so far away from where I wanted to be that it’s hard to fathom how dead inside a person can feel when their passion is lost and there’s no light balancing the darkness inside.
I wish I could say that I found something profound out there in the nothing. Something with clear directions for anyone suffering the same to follow back to the light. The only thing I found to be true throughout my misconceptions and misdirections is that there’s always a spark left of what you love. You can tell yourself that it isn’t there, you can try to convince yourself that it’s dead, drowned in booze or antipsychotics. You can tell yourself that the gods stripped it away for disappointing them. Everything that you tell yourself in that regard, in that state of mind is bullshit. The spark is still there no matter what. Some of us can take it right out of our hearts, hold it in the palm of our hand and watch it glow. For others, you have to wait to see signs of it or feel it. The signs are you being drawn back to what you left behind. It’s a new idea for a story or a screenplay you keep tumbling around in your head while your brain is on standby from mundane bullshit. It’s the music in your head when you’re sitting in traffic and the radio is off. It’s the quick flashes of the image in your mind’s eye trying to come into focus. The spark separates the darkness and It gets brighter when you fuel it up a little bit at a time.
You fuel the spark like you start a fire. A little at a time as you coax it gently to get it going. We fuel the spark every time we give into our passions for no other reason than the love of doing it. So for every singer, you feed the spark every time you sing in the shower, while doing the dishes, or cleaning the house. A mindless meditation that raises your spirit and connection to the craft. It happens when the actor delivers a favorite monologue to their reflection while getting dressed for work. The spark grows in every lapsed writer scribbling ideas on diner napkins and every artist drawing in the margins of the notebook.
Just like wildfire, the spark becomes a flame, and that flame is your passion coming back. It will burn through the darkness and consume whatever you allow it to.
As a wise man once said-
“Do what you love and let it kill you.”
So now here I am, a snarling art zombie en fuego, wandering the night’s Plutonian shores. Back from the abyss, back from the dead, fully engaged in my passion and ready to take on the world. Great, right? Well… kinda.
Just like everything that gets buried in Pet Sematary comes back a little different- So did I. I came back as a fuxking revenant on a mission to get my art out there and leave my mark. I did not come back for hugs and kisses, social circles, and kumbaya. I notice that since I’ve hit the restart button I just don’t have time for the things that I now consider extraneous. My next intimate relationship may be the hospice nurse, and my next circle of friends will probably be whoever is next to my broke ass in Potter’s Field. That’s probably a personality flaw on my end and I hope it doesn’t affect anyone reading my ranting in the same way. Just keep it in the back of your mind that you may have to watch out for these things. Especially if you plan on going about this as your life mission. Don’t become a misanthropic weirdo unless you are comfortable in that hoodie. If you do find that the hood fits- at least we match.
This is just a colorful little journal entry to reveal a little more of me as a human and hopefully for some of you to identify with. Hopefully, you can see these things, catch the issues and deal with them early so that you can avoid your first death as an artist. Many of us don’t have more than one life to give for this and many more of us never come back once we stray from the path into the darkness. We settle into whatever we have to and keep it moving. Keep in mind that anything can put you off course from the artist’s path. The circumstances that I illustrated above are just the circumstances surrounding my last decline. I’ve seen brilliant artists get derailed for a variety of reasons from having kids to physical injury, controlling spouses, psychotic breaks, and major traumas, or escaping the negativity of particular persons, places, and things. All I can tell you is to keep your goals in mind even when it seems futile. If all you have to look forward to is another day at a job you hate If it feels like you have no choice but to step off the path because of your circumstances. Find a way to use that as motivation because it doesn’t get any easier and there is no perfect time to start, pursue or change gears. You’re going to have to sacrifice if you want this. Remember that the spark will never leave you, even if you can’t see it with your eyes open.
Time… I took some time yesterday to answer my demons (DEMONS!) That devil said “Get your ass back to work boyo!” So I went back to the painting I started earlier this month and put some time in. This is “Ugly Phase,” of the process. Colors and tones are figured out but not as defined as they will be, choices have been made but the detail and definition is still a work in progress. It felt good to work loose and play around with some of the elements. Yesterday’s work was a much needed meditation. I’ve been focusing a lot on work and making my shop better. Between being there and adulting, I’ve been missing time in front of the easel. Nothing is perfect, this piece is far from done, all I can do is try and find a balance.
“Heavy is the Head,” is the WIP on my easel right now. It started as a doodle. I wasn’t thinking about anything beyond the basic idea that severed heads are cool and I should draw more of them. Then something happened… During the Spiritualism Movement, some mediums used automatic writing to communicate with the dead. In my case, the zen of sketching puts me in contact with dead memories, emotions long buried and symbols that resonate. Slowly that channeling process brings something to life. This sketch has been transferred over to wood panel. I’m currently building the first few layers in acrylic. I’ll post an update during “The Ugly Phase,” in the next day or so.
There are tools for every project and craft. When it comes to artistic expression, there are many combinations to consider. I’ve worked with a variety of different things to turn an idea into something tangible. I work on paper, canvas, human skin, steel, wood, interior and exterior walls and anything else that can accept paint or ink. My usual implements of destruction range from pens, pencil, brushes, aerosol, Bishop Rotary Tattoo Machines, clay, wire, paradors, silicone, latex, digital, and the discarded remnants of forgotten things. Still, there are other tools that we often dismiss due to the simple fact that we take them for granted. These tools are your biological. Your eyes, the tools that allow you to see your work as it progresses or pick out those random frames of awesomeness from the mundane that you see everyday. They require stimulation in order to work the way we need them to. That means observing the world and training them to see the beauty in the everyday, in the natural world. These windows of the soul process the work of our contemporaries and predecessors into our brains so we can take fresh approaches to what visually inspires us. Our hands do the work. They draw, write, build, sculpt, manipulate materials and instruments and accent your emotions as you work. I try to keep my mitts in good condition with a Balisong, and juggling. I try to test my ambidexterity on every piece. Between drawing and tattooing, my hands are my livelihood so I avoid risking them with violence or taking unnecessary chances with improper tools or operating with no protective gear. Then there’s the mind that churns through the ideas and accumulated knowledge to create something amazing. The mind contains that voice that motivates and deters you during the process. It’s also the filter that absorbs all of the information you take in and alerts you when it’s finally understood. I read a lot to nurture the mind. Philosophy, fiction, history, occult, mythology, fantasy, sci-fi, horror and every single book I can find on art, artists and the business. I Contemplate the seemingly easy situations and make snap judgements on the difficult ones. Hagakure taught me that. I listen to an immense selection of music from Gregorian Chant to Mambo, Heavy Metal to 80’s Post Punk. Some days are not complete without Doo Wop and Soul. Some moments require hip hop and Jazz. Music is the language of the soul and if we’re not putting heart and soul into our artwork; what the hell are we doing? Then there’s physical strength; it allows you to hold poles and rollers, allows your endurance to come forward when the work requires you to shift to an awkward position or hold in a pose, bent over a tattoo client or at the drawing desk. Upon waking, I work out, eat right, shadow box, and stretch. I try my best to get enough sleep despite having issues with insomnia sometimes. That will always be a work in progress but the effort is solid. I’m interested to know what you guys do. What tools do you use? What’s the most Important tool in your kit? How do you maintain them?
Perhaps it was some ancient wisdom absorbed through text or audio… Maybe it’s the reflections on the past, seen through the mind’s eye or a higher-self. Or maybe it’s just me looking for the weaknesses of former selves that have died in order to create the amalgamation writing this tonight.
“Start doing the things you love to do. You won’t love everything you begin but finish what you start.”
That’s the message floating around in the grey matter right now. That along with the Bukowski mantra of “Do what you love and let it kill you.”
I used to half-ass things. I’ve started writing novels, graphic novels, and short stories. Started illustration projects, paintings, films, plays…
That was trying to get creation time in while balancing full time jobs, relationships and a social life. Looking back; I realize how much time was wasted talking about things I wanted to do rather than just doing them. What can I know about myself if the work never makes it past the sketchbook? How can I move forward with all of these incomplete projects littering the path?
Do the work and put it out there.
Pass or fail.
Shit or gold.
I think my restart button is still a little sticky. I’ve always been an artist but embracing that is hard when you’re afraid to fail and sometimes even more terrified of success. I wore many disguises to throw the muses off track during this life.
Running from fate was a habit of mine.
I’ve been a goon, a bouncer, club manager, private security, a painter, and a repairman. I’ve also freelanced professionally as a bum, a hopeless romantic, a savage, a monk, and a sinner. There’ve also been some part time gigs as a madman, a savior, and a scoundrel for the sake of variety.
That’s a lot of hats and masks and titles worn in order to procrastinate.
The world can give you so many reasons to throw your dreams away. It starts by listening to the voices telling you that you can’t do the thing. Then it’s – Do the safe thing. Put your hours in. Keep earning a steady paycheck while those goals you once cherished fade into the background more and more with each year.
Then there’s this spark… a fire that refuses to go out no matter how many chattering voices try to throw water and dirt on the thing that burns inside you.
When the smoke clears, the same inevitable truth comes into focus again.
Do the work and put it out there.
Pass or fail.
Shit or gold.
I don’t know where this path will end. That’s never the intention behind starting off in a direction anyway. The destination should remain unknown. The journey into the unknown however; that’s what makes a story worth telling.
The Outsider is Me 