“The beast needs to eat. Atop my shoulders is where he sits, up on top where he can steer most efficiently. He has always been there since the beginning. Demanding to be fed, he’s a nice guy and I am happy to oblige him.
I feed my creativity beast with the flesh of humor and the savory blood of long dead sci-fi films. He chews through the bones of my life, spitting out all the offal he can’t make use of. I happily feed him and in return he feeds my mind with questions tall and small: Can Robocop wear a loincloth and have a beer gut? Can a heap of trash be beautiful? Can your fear of circuses be summed up in 40 by 24 inch canvas?
He guides my hand dripping poisonous yellows, toxic greens and cool blue paints into my work, capturing the chaos that he shows me. A skittering muse, teaching me to capture the beauty in the discarded, and the chaos in the mundane.
It’s always time to feed the beast.”
BORN> BECAME AN ARTIST> GREW UP> QUIT BEING AN ARTIST>
GOT SCHOOLIN’> GOT WORKIN’> MARRIED> MADE KID>
JOINED AIR FORCE> MADE KID #2> EXITED THE AIR FORCE>
BECAME AN ARTIST AGAIN> MADE KID #3> BOUGHT A HOUSE>
GOT MORE SCHOOLIN’> GOT WORKING AGAIN> MADE KID #4>
GOT WORKING ON ART> KEPT WORKING ON ART>
NOW YOU’RE ALL CAUGHT UP.