Donna stumbled into the place I was tending bar and somehow became my ward right up til she fled my 911 call. It was, after all, her birthday...
Always felt a little bad for those door to door Mormons. Until one teased my dog. Now they can fuck off.
http://voicevisual.blogspot.com/2008/03/decade-of-stuckism.html
If you follow the link, you'll see some guy's blog on Stuckism in which
he basically lumps the entirety of the group together as a bunch of
amateurish hacks, then proceeds to rub some salt in by saying that
Stuckists as a whole are misogynistic. Lets break it down by saying
that this Rupert Mallin fellow thinks of the Stuckists as the scribbles
of jizz-spewing cock done in magic marker in the bathroom stall at the
Tate Modern.
At first, I was sort've like, "Well, I guess he doesn't like
Stuckists!" and was just about to google it all away, when I glanced at
the comment by Charles Thompson (founder of Stuckism), who then placed
blame on me and several (mostly female) artists within the movement by
saying we were the "biggest culprits" of being "sexist and
misogynistic".
You know, it makes me laugh right out loud that because I paint naked women I am accused of hating my own sex. Anyone who has eyes can see most of my "pin up" paintings have subjects that are less than overtly sexually attractive. Most of them were painted when I lived in Reno, Nevada as a response to the disgusting way women were pimped out in the center of an extremely male-dominated and right wing cowboy culture. The only legal brothels in the country exist in Nevada, the most famous of which, "The Bunny Ranch" is about 20 minutes from there. People tell me that my pin ups are actually hard to look at, and some people have told me that they've become physically uncomfortable looking at them. That was the whole idea.
Anyway, I'm done explaining my inspirations now. And I will continue to paint exploited women, exploited men, chicken ladies, and cocks spewing jizz on bathroom stalls in magic marker just like I did before.
This isn't done. I started it 2 months ago on a huge old decorative landscape from the 60's that I found in a trash heap (like you would get at Kmart...). Anyway, I lost interest so I really don't know why I'm posting it other than it gives me false illusions that I accomplished something today. Her feet are wonky and the dwarfs need some work, but I guess I like her expression.
Critiques welcome, as always.
as chosen for me by "Match.com":
This is my proposed life partner, patent pending
. The control panel offers such diverse services as vibrate, fix things, inseminate, make a living, cook, clean, and sympathize. An optional cuddling unit is being researched.
After neglecting to update my website for a year or so, I've decided to switch to this blog format. I figured I could publish my new artwork here, as well as pepper the page with content I usually saved for ghosttraveller.
I doubt I'll be doing any more ghost mapping any time soon, however. My interests have changed since I started that endeavor, and with all the newfound hubbub (what with the cheesy TV shows about 'ghost hunters', 'clairvoyants', etc, etc) it just plain wasn't that unusual a subject or much fun anymore. Every fucking asshole who opened up a hotel or restaurant in North America seemed to like to say they had a "benevolent spirit" lurking about. Whatever. Rats more like.
I will happily be posting any strange vintage recipes I find, like I used to in Peggy's Antiquated Recipes and Sancho's Museum of Culinary Disasters. In fact, I just saw one recently that I'm dying to get out to you all: "Corn Cob Jelly". I gotta snag that cookbook from my mom before I can get it to you, so I promise I'll do it. I just love disgusting old cookbooks.
As for me, I've been freed from a 10 year relationship (read: dumped for the big tittied, younger personal assistant) and have moved from the White Trash mecca that is Reno, Nevada back to my original White Trash roots in Wenona, Illinois. Along with me came my trusty companion, Sancho the Rhodesian Ridgeback. And with that pet reference I come full circle, as I reminisce of my very first website of nine years ago: Sancho's Creepy Doghouse of Terror. I do indeed miss the stone age of internet blogging, when nearly everybody had some title with too many adjectives and no domain to call their own. God bless GeoCities and Tripod: training wheels for half-assed website developers.
Thanks if you are visiting. I hope to make it visually and contextually interesting.
