01 June 2008

Prison Artist

I don't like holding back tears. I don't like my heart filled with putrid black bile. I don't like the way things are going these days, Dark days, age of darkness.

Several people have told me that my art looks like prison art. Thats a good compliment, when I hear somebody tell me that, I thinking inside like, hell yeah, my shit is work son. Blood, sweat and tears. Its a crazy fucking ordeal to come up with the shit I say. I'm no genius, I struggle to be articulate in images. All my art starts off with a mistake. The very first line is a mistake. In my imagination I can see the entire piece, and as soon as I try to paint that, things go wrong. I have no idea what my arm and hand is going to give me. Thats why I like basket ball, you never know if its going to go in or not.

I'm a streaky painter. I go on streaks(naked). Some days are bad for painting. I'm no good at it. Others are exceptional, I understand, I'm like photoshop, fuck computers, fuck looking at shit, I'm the shit you should be looking at. Fuck bullshit artists, Fuck the world, Fuck assholes, Fuck society, Get Some!

I'm angry at the world mother fuckers! I'll stab you with a visual knife. My heart is inward driven spear on fire, a cruise missle warhead. I say the same shit as other bad ass artists, I feel the anger necessary for art to take place. A cathartic expression. A release like a fucking savage animal, or demon empire raging for weeks to be let out. I fuck with strong forces, the best, Marine Recon, Navy Seal, CIA commandos, I got that spirit in me but for art. I got the empathy for hard work and practice.

People say my art looks like prison art, I'm not fucking around, I'll blow your city up with my art. I'll drop artistic nukes all over the place. I'm a sniper, I wait for indefinate amounts of time, focused on art. I'm studying with a telescopic scope, I'm studying with microscope.

"I haven't a band/ I have no choice but to/I'll make everyone pay and you will see" I love that line. Ever since I first heard it more than ten years ago, Man that you Fear, by Marilyn Manson.

I'm driven by revenge. Every person that crossed me bad, that dissed me when I shown you respect, or you cheat me, or talk shit about me, smile in my face, you know, make my life as miserable as it can be, I have to do something that is going to blow you out the water. I got the heart of champion, I warrior that will fight to the death with my art. Its all about my art. The message and the meaning. My shit is done the way its supposed to be done, I'm obsessed with my art. I'm OCD, obsessive compulsive demanding.

In my most depressing days of existence, I drew art. I didn't get the girl, fuck it, her loss, I drew art. I'm not going down like that, I'm going to paint myself a better lie, thats right lie, not life, i did a typo, a little fruedian slip, i'll keep it.

Totally broke, all I need is a blank sheet of paper and a black pen, I'll draw on it for 40 hours and its a masterpiece, I'm going down in history. Like a person that commits a crime, kills a bunch of people, serial killer, or whatever, thats me. My victims are paper, stabbed them 10,000 times a piece. The most brutal shit you ever seen- psychotic.

Am I bragging about myself? yeah, but I'm doing something positive, I'm a rogue artist, I been working alone for years now. I am like an inmate, like a Charles Manson, too crazy for the rest of the population, so I'm isolated. What kind of crazy shit is he going to say next? I'm doing art the way I'm innately inclined to. I got the talent, I can draw anything, I got the psychosis, I can think some crazy shit up.

If you show me love, I'll show it back. Thats simple and plain. I don't know why its just hard to navigate the realms here in San Antonio. Thats right, I'm at odds with San Antonio. I rep it like Necro reps Brooklyn. Its my home town, I'm down for it. But shit, this place place really knows how to treat its talent- like bums. They don't know what they got here. Is it a money issue? or is it a conservative issue?

This place has got some issues. I went to Rhode Island being brought up, straight up, hood mexican, ghetto ass mother fucker, and looking back on some of the shit I pulled, like relationships, man, I was going off a San Antonio jealousy script. Maybe its fashionable to be promiscuous, that shit bugs me out. I don't know how to approach that, but that seems to be the new style of living. No more family unit, its all backstabbing, drug induced betrayals, or something, I can't find a decent person anymore.

I feel like I have been sent to prison. All the negativity is just fuel for my fire, my burning desire. I've never had a place where I didn't have any friends. I'm not used to being friendless. I have friends, but I need some soldiers that are into the shit I'm into. I need companionship. I feel miserable. Misery is what fuels my art. I can taste revenge.

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