28 May 2008

A New Cop on the Beat

A New Cop on the Beat, 2008, acrylic on panel, 9x12in
Let me just start out and say that the colors in these pix don't represent the actual ones in the painting. That sucks because this is one of my most disciplined color works I've ever done. I was in the zone with using complimentary colors, shades, and application of paint here its a shame these pix don't give you the full sensation of the art.

Anyways, see this in person. This piece is about the size of a sheet of notebook paper. I can bring this thing anywhere I go.
Doing this piece was fun. I had a smile on my face the whole time. I bet everybody that sees this is going to refer to police as Robocop. Some of the terminology is ripped right out of Call of Duty 4. "Tango down!", "Our UAV is online!" etc.
I couldn't stop thinking about Robocop for some reason. Something in my inner workings was yearning for Robocop. I went to Blockbuster and rented it, saw it again for the first time since it first came out on VHS. I like the violence and brutality in the film. The movie is a propaganda film for sure. In the movie they talk about terrorism, bio warfare, violence on the US/Mexico border, joint operations between Mex and US. Nuclear devices going off, total preparation for whats to come.
I use the Robocop as a symbol for the advancement of the technological, militarization of the police force. I hope cops see this and see their actions and where they are going.

One Last Cruise Through the Hood

9/11 Was an Inside Job, acrylic on illustration board, 2007, 8x10in
I did this for a Dia de los Muertos show in 2007. I once believed the towers collapsed from the airplanes hitting the towers. One thing I didn't understand was why did the tower that got hit second, fall first? and why did they implode? Common sense would make you think that the towers would have toppled. The pancake collapse seems like the oddest way for a asymetrical disaster to happen. I'm no expert, but I listened to some over the internet and I got to agree with the people that say this was an inside job. 9/11 itself is a symbol, or sign in our minds of emergency. Dial 911 for emergency. They engineered this to be as psychologically devastating as they could. For weeks, months and years, they been conditioning us to remember, recall the horrific events of 9/11.

I was niave and believed terrorists did this. Are terrorists real? How can you fight a war against a bunch of ghosts? The videos I see of the war in Iraq is just our troops shooting at nothing. And how do these terrorists stay well equipped with a never ending supply of ammo? Shouldn't they have run out by now? I mean they were supposedly so cheap to steal a airplanes and use it as missles. These guys can't have stockpiles of explosives. Somebody is giving them their supplies, or somebody is blaming terrorists for these bombings, like car bombs, IEDs, roadside bombs, etc. WTF? How come nobody can catch these people? If they are putting stuff out there it must take time to setup. Why in the hell do we have to patrol those dangerous streets? Shouldn't you just wait around until they come out? They are only coming out because we are coming out after them.

I'm not into policing the world. The USA has no business going around and sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. Its like if you here a baby crying a couple of blocks away, do you go to that home to see why that baby is crying? No, you don't worry about it, because they got a family to take care of that baby. We are not the parents of other countries. We should show respect to peoples privacy.

One Last Cruise Through the Hood
acrylic on panel, 2007, 9x12in
This was also done for a Dia de los Muertos show. This honors my uncle Cuchie. I mostly new him as a neighborhood street runner. At one point in his life he was in prison. The bits and pieces of knowledge he bestowed upon me, and the people he knew, or that knew him have been invaluable. I guess what he put in perspective for me is the simplicity, the basic necessity of living. I seen this man grab live roaches with his fingers! This man has slept in shacks, on cots under a tree. He told me that chuck taylors are the best shoes in prison.

I don't totally blame him for getting hooked on heroin. Its a bad addiction. I never messed with this stuff. I've seen first hand what it does to people.
Besides the addictions and life of crime this man has had, he was a funny character, he would sings raunchy songs about girls while walking down the street, he would snap and clap and sing like a old school tejano singer. He was funny to talk to because he was up front and clear about his desires, he wasn't afraid to be himself, whether that was drug induced or not, I appreciate what I saw. Rest in Piece! This is for you!

I came up with the title while driving in the escort of his casket from the funeral home to the church, we drove down the street he lived on. It was the best way to go, reassuring, that you are home. I told my cousin sitting next to me, as we were all surprised to drive down Crotez street, "one last cruise throught the hood."

Uncle Cuchie loved women, heroin, hated the police squaked like a chicken in heat and always had a quarter in his ear. His other nickname was, "Speeeeeediiiiiiiieeeee", he liked to dance too.

14 May 2008


Battle for the Sky, 2005, ink on paper

Wheel of Fortune in da Woods, 2005, ink on paper

The Reenactment, 2005, ink on paper

I got a Cavity Search, Post 9/11, 2005 ink on paper

Party Girls, 2005, ink on paper
2005 I was enrolled at RISD. I was looking at the work of Albrecht Durer heavily. These pieces are my interpretations of some of his master pieces.

Party Girls is my rendition of the Four Witches of 1497 engraving. At the time of this piece, the semester of junior year was completed. I was involved in a deeply passionate relationship, and my partner was visiting family for a couple of weeks and I was spending time with some of my friends involved in the party life. So I went to a summer time party where most of the students have gone home for the summer, but some stayed and there was a party and this drawing came out of that experience. Its one of my favorites because it was done at a time when I felt loved by a woman and happy with my place in the world at the time.

Post 9/11 came in response to my travels between school in Rhode Island and home in Texas. I felt very paranoid each time I went to the airport. I thought it to be invasive and ludicrous for some authority figure to ask me to take off my shoes, my belt, to have the threat of a cavity search looming in the back of your mind. I felt vulnerable, and uneasy about the situation, and any slight quirk in your demeanor would be scrutinized.

I remember once, I was coming down from a hallucinogenic experience, a bad trip at that, and I had to be at the airport to fly home, and when I got to the airport, I was still tripping. The flight information was swirling in spirals, reality was like a photoshop filter effect, I felt very aware of my body and my senses were heightened. I was coming down off a bad trip that became one of my best ones, so I was in this impervious attitude, happy go lucky, happy to be alive, life is great attitude. So then I check my bags through the Xray machine and they clear out ok and I'm tripping out on the signs how they are all being warped and dripping because I'm on drugs. Little did I know I was standing awkwardly long in this one spot looking dazed and confused to everybody else, and the authorities confronted me with suspicion, like we finally got one! But I just turned around and laughed while these TSA agents looked at me in disbelief. I headed to the human cattle line with people shouting at you to take your shoes off, and better not have contraband, I was hoping they didn't find out I was tripping. All the contraband was eaten a few hours before.
I've been to airports always sleep deprived, hungover, on hallucinogenic drugs, high on weed, high on speed, drunk, and a mixture of all these things. Airports are ridiculous and this drawing I did in 2005 documents how I feel about traveling through them. Ludicrous!

Wheel of Fortune was done at the dinner table as entertainment one day. I couldn't believe I came up with the piece, as it turned out to be clear and fast, I usually have struggled with clarity in my drawing ability as seen in the Reenactment piece.

Battle for the Sky was done in respect to Durer's Apocalypse woodcut of Micheal Slaying the Demon. I was liking the violent yet comical nature of the piece because I thought it to be funny. I tried to put my interpretation of what violence was to me at the time, but as you can see, my approach is still rather tame. On the back of the piece I wrote that the piece to me means a fight with subconcious demons.

In all, 2005 was the year I began drawing with cross hatching. The work is often expressive of my romantic view of art at the time. It also came from a time in my life where I was involved in a consuming relationship with a person I greatly loved.

Searing Wound

Searing Wound, 2008, ink on paper, 11x15 in.

Searing Wound is a statement I wanted to make in good faith on a matter of public interest. However, the larger picture is a statement about how the individual has lost their right to protest, or speak out against authority.

Whore Nation

Whore Nation, 2008, ink on paper, 11x15 in.

ode to the Whore of Babylon, Revelation 17, A. Durer, woodcut, 11x15in, 1495
Whore Nation grew out of the idea of questioning the sexual nature of the modern mind. How fantasies are bits and pieces of erotic memories, that are shapeless, or formless, but are stirred up in a heat of carnal passion. The center Iconic amalgamation is what I think I see in totality when fantasizing, like seeing your fantasy all at once. Faces, Sexual acts, glimpses of the person you lust for.
This Icon is exploding out of a computer monitor. In the monitor is a Pentagon with an eye in the center, a reference to the Pentagon and the All Seeing Eye. There is speculation that the powers that be utilize pornography, sexuality, as a tool to control the population.
In the piece I struggle with my interpretation of sexual practice. Its a loving, life giving process, and also a negative, self defaming act when a camera is turned on to it, or through gossip. How, these things alter my perception of sexual energy in myself and in others.
On the right and left upper corners of the piece are images of deep, nurturing love and an image of a soldier with the USMC motto, Semper Fidelis, or Always Faithful.
The piece for me is a burning sexual desire, to give the most to one woman or to many. It is a conflict I'm not sure if I can resolve.

Man of Sorrows

Man of Sorrows, 2008, ink on paper, 11x15 in.

ode to Albrecht Durer, Christ as the Man of Sorrows, 1493, oil on panel
Although the Man of Sorrows is typically a reference to Christ, holy compassion that is refuted by society so Christ is this person that knows better, and is living in a world that is corrupted so that causes the sorrow. For me in this piece, I hand the vivid vision of this lovely work by the young Durer. I like the composition, the iconic nature of it. So I wanted to talk about people that feel sorry for themselves. I wanted to dig deeper, or at least graphically represent the causes, or the turmoil a delicate mind faces in this modern age. How the need to have love and nurturing must be satisfied and how not having that causes deep mental anguish. How feeling alienated from sex, love, and finances cause a person to lose sight of their ultimate existance and in turn decide life is not worth living due to the societal pressures of having lots of sex and having lots of money. So when those things aren't met, a person can feel depressed, angry, resentful towards the life he was given. No matter how good your potential may be, the powers of sex and money out weigh a persons will to thrive in a shallow, materialistic world.
For me this piece represents my contemplations of my own lack of willpower to live at times, but at the same time, I reverse that mentality and manipulate it as all the more reason to live, or at least I do live in my artwork that gets me past following the path of commercial fuck life.

Precious Cargo

Precious Cargo, 2008, ink on paper, 11x15 in.

This piece was done in response to information reported on that Mexican troops have fired upon Border Patrol Agents to escort drug cartels. The mainstream media largely ignores this to be happening. hmmmmm.....
So this is my piece on how drugs are brought into the USA by Mexican troops and the Border Agents have no idea whats going on and neither does the public as expressed in the Cocaine Orgy that gets Raided by the Feds. But possibly the government does as hinted at in the window with the Senator about to fuck a Mexican Virgin Sex Slave.
The drugs are brought into the USA knowingly by higher up secretive government agents and distributed to the public, then, you take the bait and get punished severely by the same people that allowed the drugs to happen. Once you are imprisoned, you are pretty much fucked! Shackled and chained working for a nickle an hour. God Bless the USA!

Albert Alvarez in Mexico

Good Trip, Bad Trip

Good Trip, Bad Trip, 2008, ink on paper, 11x15 in.

12 May 2008

A Storm is Brewing, the Calm Beforehand

It takes a madman to do this kind of job, one where his thoughts and ideas impede him from doing normal kind of work. I think that sums up my disposition on life. I go bezerk, a frenzy for art- like an act of killing, and grace, art for me is a holy war of positives and negatives.

I'm obsessive in many aspects of my life, not just in my art. Art is life is it not, and vice versa? My dream lately is to be a drill sergeant of art. Thats just to give you an idea of the aggresion and passion I feel for art. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I want to push people past thier limits, I want people to really know what it takes to be a strong artist, an officer, a leiutenant, a commander. A war hero, an artist hero. I hate to rule with terror or an iron fist fuck, but I'm a crazy SOB, and this world is causing me a lot of anger, and my anger is exploding with fury in my art. I don't want pain, or inflict deadly pain but I feel the type of anger to be that aggressive. I try to release it on paper, but for those that know me, and its not many, they know I'm highly demanding, obsessive aggresive disorder.

Thats why I consider myself a drill sergeant. I don't accept failure. I don't accept mediocre efforts, I'm here to cause maximum amount of damage in art. My heart is a machine gun! I'll murder this world forever with my art. There's no other sufficient way to explain my passion for art other than through sexual metaphors.

This isn't some lollygagging no brainer. For me this is high stakes, black ops, CIA mission. Gathering intelligence, resources, excecution, dedication, working under high stress. Trying not to run out of ways to fight. Fighting smart. Fighting fights I know I can win.

I'm an extremist with my emotions. I like to think I live the middle path. I'm not a Buddhist monk, but I know somethings about that lifestyle, the ultimate, life saving path. However, I don't think some of their passive techniques would square up with the savagery of evil. I've heard Joe Coleman once say, you have to fight evil with the tools of the devil, while he was target practicing with a hand gun.
The 2nd amendment of the USA grants its citizens to have firepower. There's a reason that this is the second most important thing to this supposed free country, right after free speech, is the right to bear arms! Nobody is supposed to take your freedom away, and if they do you should kill them! We our living under fascism and it makes me sick. everybody is brainwashed. Everything you ever learned is false. There's a line from a passage in the Tao Teh Ching, and thats Unlearn your Learing. Everything that you've seen on TV is most likely syndicated by the CIA, or some sort of think tank of psychologists that are programming minds across the world since the printing press, radio, and television were invented. There are people that know how to program a mind, they are hitting us hard in many forms and we are mostly now under thier rule.
I don't feel free. I feel like a slave, I feel like I'm not able to feel my full potential. I feel drugged by everything I'm eating, I feel like a zombie loving TV head. Who knows what we really are anymore. Teenagers are all suicidal now a days, they don't know what to do with themselves, they have no hope for the future, they have no hobbies, things outside themselves is the only entertainment they desire, they could care less about politics, and more on emo hairstyles and sluts. If thats not evidence enough for you to see there is something really fucked up with modern intelligence, than mentioning that 9-11 was an inside job is probably insane to you.
You see, I love life, I love the simple things in life, and all the great things life has to offer, conversation, laughing, women, paved roads, flushing toilets, computers, etc, but when these things are taken advantage of, it makes you start hating life! I love the way life should be, but I hate the way life is being programmed!