23 September 2008
GAT
GAT (Guardian Againt Tyranny), 8.5x11in, Digital print, 2008.
$10, 1/70.
During these increasingly dark days, impending fear of a Great Depression, and all other things I'm experiencing on an individual level, have needed me to be strong. My heart longed to see a true, good warrior. That good will not be vanquished with impunity, but a force to be reckoned with. Thus is my GAT. I strong need to see a fighting spirit on the side of positive energy.
Also, if I were to be robbed in my home, killed, or something, I would want to be around one of these. I want my home to be surrounded in spirits, I want the last thing a person sees to be a valiant figure; a stoic figure; an angry figure; a peaceful figure; a gnarly wrinkled in anger face. I want sculptures of demons, and stuff to ward off negative energy. Seeing something like this, strikes an empathetic discipline in me. This expresses strength and death, or death and strength. This represents power to live another day. To stand up against negativity. To ward off evil spirits.
22 September 2008
Big Business, Sickness Management
BBSM,8.5x 11in, digital print, 2008
$10, 1/70
I saw this one day getting a cup of coffee at a Whataburger. I felt like I was looking into a crystal ball. I had to paint this, it is my fear, am I under attack? am I being lured into this eugenics future? Am I subject of a soft kill? Will my life be dependent on pharmaceuticals? Is my DNA being manipulated?
Schizo Nation
Schizo Nation, 8.5x11in, digital print, 2008$10, 1/70
Light is associated with knowledge. Light is needed in order to sense sight. Sight is how we get most of our knowledge about the world and reality. Who can control what is seen, controls knowledge and thought. Could our knowledge be a smoke and mirrors tactic done by a kabal of secret elitists? To keep the attention of the masses of people, preoccupied, deceived into thinking that modern is a saturday morning cartoon? Are our minds being influenced? Is the mainstream media a bad influence? Our the powers that be ritual occultists that are into population control?
NBFO
NBFO (No Blood For Oil) 11x8.5, Digital print, 2008
$10, 1/70
Some time in the near future: inflation has caused gas prices to hit all time record highs, civil collapse. Streets become ritual sacrifice centers, killing and dying under occult, corporate logos. A UFO contributes to the destruction. What about their agenda?
15 September 2008
Teaching Art, Artistic Method
The best quality to possess is concentration. The ability to concentrate for long hours, uninterrupted is the the top, essential skill to harness.
If you want to learn from me, show up to my doorstep every morning for 3 years than I will take you seriously.
Good concentration is a spiritual quality. I learned concentration habits from Chinese Tao, and Buddhist Meditation principles. Although I personally am not the type of person to sit still motionless, I take those habits of meditation and apply them to artistic production.
You have to be content with yourself. Time should not be a factor. It shouldn't matter if its a Friday night, or Saturday night, you should be able to get over urges and be content with yourself.
Concentration is a spiritual learning process. When you are alone, quiet and focused, you will hear your thoughts. You will become closer to yourself, and be able to accept yourself for everything.
Concentration will bring you peace and forgiveness. Listen to yourself. Concentration will unveil many aspects that are important to your consciousness and give you ever lasting ideas.
Concentrate on becoming a great master artist. Learn from master artists. Invest great amounts of time in honing your talent to be that of master quality. Pick a challenge for yourself, and strive to become one with the master.
Feel like the master, like the way you enjoy good song and dance, or sex, give your inner focus to the appreciation of the act of making art. Make the art come from your inner breath. Communicate your everything, your total person, all your life into the life of your line quality.
Understand art as pleasurable. Become deeply moved by drawing and painting. See deeply into visual experience. See deeply into art as a product of the inner theater of the mind.
Strive to produce art that is one with your mind. Set your mind free and imagine strongly your vision before you draw it. See it on the page before you draw it.
I'm talking about art the way I set out to do. If you respect and choose to do art the way I do, than apply this knowledge for the benefit of yourself, because I am here to tell you how I have found and harnessed my artistic potential. This is my philosophy that I taught myself, through research and discipline, and practice.
Practice until your hand hurts.
Set your own goals. My goal from the very beginning when I set out to achieve mastery, or some semblance of it, was to draw what I see, within my mind or elsewhere, to draw that with efficiency. I wanted to eliminate sketching from my process, and draw perfectly. My goal was to clean my drawing skills so that I could produce polished work all the time. I don't want to have to sketch the eyes over and over, or sketch the hands over and over, or mess up over and over.
I don't want to mess up. Granted, mistakes will be made, and some mistakes are beneficial. But my goal was to have immediate gratification with my mind through my artistic tool. I want to bring out whatever is within me, or what my artistic mind desires to have be done.
I started seriously practicing art on my own, studying the Chinese masters brush technique, at the age of around 19, 20. I practiced with extreme diligence, becoming reclusive and introverted for more than a year. I would draw in the Chinese brush method for as many hours as I could. I worked, concentrated with unrelenting passion. I was a man on a mission.
The idea was to draw so much, and gain so much experience in a short amount of time so that I could have master artist capacities at a young age, relative speaking. I wanted to in a few short years be on par with my art heroes.
So I modeled myself after my master teachers from hundreds of years ago. getting lessons in viewing all the art I could find of them. From a doodle, to a study, to journal writings, to accounts of contemporaries of the artist, and scholarly studies, I wanted to learn what it takes.
Concentration, serious dedication, research, extraordinary practice, goal oriented, and commitment are the fundamentals of harnessing artistic ability.
Next time I will get into the philosophical aspects of artistic practice.
If you want to learn from me, show up to my doorstep every morning for 3 years than I will take you seriously.
Good concentration is a spiritual quality. I learned concentration habits from Chinese Tao, and Buddhist Meditation principles. Although I personally am not the type of person to sit still motionless, I take those habits of meditation and apply them to artistic production.
You have to be content with yourself. Time should not be a factor. It shouldn't matter if its a Friday night, or Saturday night, you should be able to get over urges and be content with yourself.
Concentration is a spiritual learning process. When you are alone, quiet and focused, you will hear your thoughts. You will become closer to yourself, and be able to accept yourself for everything.
Concentration will bring you peace and forgiveness. Listen to yourself. Concentration will unveil many aspects that are important to your consciousness and give you ever lasting ideas.
Concentrate on becoming a great master artist. Learn from master artists. Invest great amounts of time in honing your talent to be that of master quality. Pick a challenge for yourself, and strive to become one with the master.
Feel like the master, like the way you enjoy good song and dance, or sex, give your inner focus to the appreciation of the act of making art. Make the art come from your inner breath. Communicate your everything, your total person, all your life into the life of your line quality.
Understand art as pleasurable. Become deeply moved by drawing and painting. See deeply into visual experience. See deeply into art as a product of the inner theater of the mind.
Strive to produce art that is one with your mind. Set your mind free and imagine strongly your vision before you draw it. See it on the page before you draw it.
I'm talking about art the way I set out to do. If you respect and choose to do art the way I do, than apply this knowledge for the benefit of yourself, because I am here to tell you how I have found and harnessed my artistic potential. This is my philosophy that I taught myself, through research and discipline, and practice.
Practice until your hand hurts.
Set your own goals. My goal from the very beginning when I set out to achieve mastery, or some semblance of it, was to draw what I see, within my mind or elsewhere, to draw that with efficiency. I wanted to eliminate sketching from my process, and draw perfectly. My goal was to clean my drawing skills so that I could produce polished work all the time. I don't want to have to sketch the eyes over and over, or sketch the hands over and over, or mess up over and over.
I don't want to mess up. Granted, mistakes will be made, and some mistakes are beneficial. But my goal was to have immediate gratification with my mind through my artistic tool. I want to bring out whatever is within me, or what my artistic mind desires to have be done.
I started seriously practicing art on my own, studying the Chinese masters brush technique, at the age of around 19, 20. I practiced with extreme diligence, becoming reclusive and introverted for more than a year. I would draw in the Chinese brush method for as many hours as I could. I worked, concentrated with unrelenting passion. I was a man on a mission.
The idea was to draw so much, and gain so much experience in a short amount of time so that I could have master artist capacities at a young age, relative speaking. I wanted to in a few short years be on par with my art heroes.
So I modeled myself after my master teachers from hundreds of years ago. getting lessons in viewing all the art I could find of them. From a doodle, to a study, to journal writings, to accounts of contemporaries of the artist, and scholarly studies, I wanted to learn what it takes.
Concentration, serious dedication, research, extraordinary practice, goal oriented, and commitment are the fundamentals of harnessing artistic ability.
Next time I will get into the philosophical aspects of artistic practice.
09 September 2008
A Recent Nightmare About a Decapitation of a Loved One
I was taking a shower at night. I could hear/sense my family outside the bathroom, everybody going about their business. Periodically, at home we can hear gunshots, and this arouses the family's curiosity and panic sometimes.
After showering, I was trying to get dressed. As I was doing this I heard gunfire. This gun fire sounded like AK-47 machine gun fire. The blasts and bangs of the weapon discharge sounded like the barrel of the rifle was near by.
I was struggling to put my clothes on, like I was drunk or in a state of feebleness. My family was calling out to me to see what I thought of the gunfire. Finally, after what seemed like a futile struggle I was able to dress myself and open the door of the bathroom and enter the chaotic epidemic which was starting to unfold.
I asked where the shots had came in from, but nobody in my family seemed to be concerned, more or less, excited about hearing those types of gunshots in close proximity. Mystery and danger were like a potion, elixir of feeling alive.
Suddenly, through the front door, my brother pops in, laughing hysterically, and behind him, a large, early 20s woman, dressed in Bloods Red gang attire comes hurling through the door. This person seemed frightened and was seeking shelter.
She didn't stay for long, but ran to the rear of the house, out the back door, hopped a fence to the alley, and took off into the darkness.
Meanwhile, my brother and I were closing the blinds on the windows so nobody could see what was happening in our home.
My family questioned my brother of the stranger he brought into our home, and if that had anything to do with the gunfire we had just heard, and he denied anything, and seemed to be in a laughing mood.
Now, I'm not sure how I got to this place, but I was at some sort residence with my brother. I think he needed to hide. At this home, it seemed to be dug into the side of a hill. The porch was cluttered and cramped, much like the living quarters. The people living there seemed like the underground, dregs of society type people.
I think I needed to hide as well. The feeling was assumed that the gun fire was directed at my home, and there was a mysterious enigma searching for me, and wanted me dead. At this home I was led by unknown figures to an underground series of dark, dirt cave tunnels. This felt like large portion of time being wasted wandering through the tunnels. I remember popping up out of the tunnels and it was early morning, like sunrise, and being in a field near a warehouse, and a helicopter with a bright spot light, hovering above us, blowing the field grass around violently.
I remember having to escape this helicopter by running through an unfamiliar neighborhood, the houses were middle upper class, or lower upper class, but the people were unassuming.
I remember having to navigate my way, being as discreet as possible manuevering through backyards with dogs and such, trying to get back to the shelter.
I remember having to hide in a thicket and fenced off area because a car was driving by, and might have been the enigma that was seeking to harm me. The car was a gangsterish lowrider cadilac with big sliver rims, brown paintjob.
After that threat had passed, I arrived back to the shelter dug into the side of a hill. There a dobeman pincher was mad dogging the driving. This dog seemed aggressive and violent, and there was no calming this animal. So it was trapping us inside the residence.
I remember talking at the screen door to this domicile, to a person that claimed to be a vicious dog, literally, he was talking about how he would bite, and gnaw on a arm or leg of a person if he felt to do so. I was there with another person who the dog man was directing the conversation to primarily; I was there trying to stay on his good side, all the while examining this creature.
The dog man I assumed was the doberman pincer that was at the driveway that had shapeshifted into his humanoid state. The dogman, warewolf was very thin, and riley. His forearm muscles were tense and tight, but displayed power and agression. The warewolfs face was like that of a dog. His bottom jaw protruded, jutted outward like the snout of a k-9, and his mouth was full of pointy teeth. The dog man had a large dog like tongue, and he liked to excersise his chicanery like grin, and his mouth often hung open drooling. A fascinating, frightening figure, I had never seen anything like this before, not even in movie special effects, his jaws were like that of a k-9 and were wide and menacing, he talked about his experiences eating people that crossed his path, he had a short fuse.
A group of little kids, my extended family, who are presently the same age as I but in the dream I saw them as little kids, from back the way we used to be. They came up to me, concerned about their mother and aunt. They said they heard something at night, sounding like a windowbreaking. They said they wanted to see what happened and that they new something bad had happened but wanted to see for themselves no matter what. But they needed me to be there with them, just in case the evil entity was still there. They guided me to an underground room, that was dark and filled with clutter, like a pack rats den. There was a door in the back of this room, and the little girl opened it and instantly screamed, i looked into that room and saw that it had been ransacked and on a bed, in a white night gown lay the girls mother, brutally murdered, and decapitated. I left the room, horrified and shaken, trying to navigate my way holding back fear and trying to keep my wits together, seeking help from police, I searched for a phone. I think I came above ground, and opened a door, that was like a pantry in the ground, I opened the door and made another gruesome discovery, the decapitated head of a loved one. It was the worst sight I had ever seen. The sight was very personal and traumatic. I nearly lost my mind. I batted around through the ransacked house looking for a phone to call for help, while trying to tell the family that they should not look in the cellar door.
I was thinking to myself how could anyone commit such a heinous crime? I also thought how I would never want to have to identify the body of somebody I caredfor in a manner such as this, decapitated, or otherwise. I thought about a funeral and how the wake would have to be closed casket, and thought about the pain that would bring to a family, knowing that their loved one was brutally killed by an entity with a demonic, diabolic spirit.
This dream gave me deep, frightening feelings. I woke up in the middle of the night in fear, hoping this never happens. I was almost afraid to go back to sleep, because I was in fear of having another traumatic experience such as this.
After showering, I was trying to get dressed. As I was doing this I heard gunfire. This gun fire sounded like AK-47 machine gun fire. The blasts and bangs of the weapon discharge sounded like the barrel of the rifle was near by.
I was struggling to put my clothes on, like I was drunk or in a state of feebleness. My family was calling out to me to see what I thought of the gunfire. Finally, after what seemed like a futile struggle I was able to dress myself and open the door of the bathroom and enter the chaotic epidemic which was starting to unfold.
I asked where the shots had came in from, but nobody in my family seemed to be concerned, more or less, excited about hearing those types of gunshots in close proximity. Mystery and danger were like a potion, elixir of feeling alive.
Suddenly, through the front door, my brother pops in, laughing hysterically, and behind him, a large, early 20s woman, dressed in Bloods Red gang attire comes hurling through the door. This person seemed frightened and was seeking shelter.
She didn't stay for long, but ran to the rear of the house, out the back door, hopped a fence to the alley, and took off into the darkness.
Meanwhile, my brother and I were closing the blinds on the windows so nobody could see what was happening in our home.
My family questioned my brother of the stranger he brought into our home, and if that had anything to do with the gunfire we had just heard, and he denied anything, and seemed to be in a laughing mood.
Now, I'm not sure how I got to this place, but I was at some sort residence with my brother. I think he needed to hide. At this home, it seemed to be dug into the side of a hill. The porch was cluttered and cramped, much like the living quarters. The people living there seemed like the underground, dregs of society type people.
I think I needed to hide as well. The feeling was assumed that the gun fire was directed at my home, and there was a mysterious enigma searching for me, and wanted me dead. At this home I was led by unknown figures to an underground series of dark, dirt cave tunnels. This felt like large portion of time being wasted wandering through the tunnels. I remember popping up out of the tunnels and it was early morning, like sunrise, and being in a field near a warehouse, and a helicopter with a bright spot light, hovering above us, blowing the field grass around violently.
I remember having to escape this helicopter by running through an unfamiliar neighborhood, the houses were middle upper class, or lower upper class, but the people were unassuming.
I remember having to navigate my way, being as discreet as possible manuevering through backyards with dogs and such, trying to get back to the shelter.
I remember having to hide in a thicket and fenced off area because a car was driving by, and might have been the enigma that was seeking to harm me. The car was a gangsterish lowrider cadilac with big sliver rims, brown paintjob.
After that threat had passed, I arrived back to the shelter dug into the side of a hill. There a dobeman pincher was mad dogging the driving. This dog seemed aggressive and violent, and there was no calming this animal. So it was trapping us inside the residence.
I remember talking at the screen door to this domicile, to a person that claimed to be a vicious dog, literally, he was talking about how he would bite, and gnaw on a arm or leg of a person if he felt to do so. I was there with another person who the dog man was directing the conversation to primarily; I was there trying to stay on his good side, all the while examining this creature.
The dog man I assumed was the doberman pincer that was at the driveway that had shapeshifted into his humanoid state. The dogman, warewolf was very thin, and riley. His forearm muscles were tense and tight, but displayed power and agression. The warewolfs face was like that of a dog. His bottom jaw protruded, jutted outward like the snout of a k-9, and his mouth was full of pointy teeth. The dog man had a large dog like tongue, and he liked to excersise his chicanery like grin, and his mouth often hung open drooling. A fascinating, frightening figure, I had never seen anything like this before, not even in movie special effects, his jaws were like that of a k-9 and were wide and menacing, he talked about his experiences eating people that crossed his path, he had a short fuse.
A group of little kids, my extended family, who are presently the same age as I but in the dream I saw them as little kids, from back the way we used to be. They came up to me, concerned about their mother and aunt. They said they heard something at night, sounding like a windowbreaking. They said they wanted to see what happened and that they new something bad had happened but wanted to see for themselves no matter what. But they needed me to be there with them, just in case the evil entity was still there. They guided me to an underground room, that was dark and filled with clutter, like a pack rats den. There was a door in the back of this room, and the little girl opened it and instantly screamed, i looked into that room and saw that it had been ransacked and on a bed, in a white night gown lay the girls mother, brutally murdered, and decapitated. I left the room, horrified and shaken, trying to navigate my way holding back fear and trying to keep my wits together, seeking help from police, I searched for a phone. I think I came above ground, and opened a door, that was like a pantry in the ground, I opened the door and made another gruesome discovery, the decapitated head of a loved one. It was the worst sight I had ever seen. The sight was very personal and traumatic. I nearly lost my mind. I batted around through the ransacked house looking for a phone to call for help, while trying to tell the family that they should not look in the cellar door.
I was thinking to myself how could anyone commit such a heinous crime? I also thought how I would never want to have to identify the body of somebody I caredfor in a manner such as this, decapitated, or otherwise. I thought about a funeral and how the wake would have to be closed casket, and thought about the pain that would bring to a family, knowing that their loved one was brutally killed by an entity with a demonic, diabolic spirit.
This dream gave me deep, frightening feelings. I woke up in the middle of the night in fear, hoping this never happens. I was almost afraid to go back to sleep, because I was in fear of having another traumatic experience such as this.
07 September 2008
Did you see the MTV Music Awards?
i saw less than 10 mins of it and i'm about to go off on that BS
first off, the host of the show, whatever he was dressed like, a blend of punk rock, burlesque drag, which is peculiar enough, but what bothered me most is his british accent.
in case you didn't know, the british was the number one enemy of the united states. its not the russians, its not the afghans, or whatever, our worst enemy is, was, the british.
now we got them on our teley? bloody hell, whats going on here?
all of a sudden, the new trend in teeny bopper culture thinks its cool to be british. we need to cultivate our own identity before filling our minds with somebody elses agenda straight outta buckingham palace.
do you know who is british royalty bloodline? you guessed it, george bush. you can trace his family tree and it goes back to british monarchs or something. look it up yourself.
point is, the british are taking back this country and its people. look around, its hardcore tyranny we're are living in.
isn't that what the revolutionary war was about, to get these punks off our back, now we are back under tyranny, and surprise, guess who runs the country? guess who our role models are for the young?
so you got this punk on mtv promoting the british culture to young impressionable teeny bopper americans, who are some the most dumbed down, delinquent people on planet earth, sucking this bullshit down like a liquid candy, all for a rush.
i want my people back!
the host was unusually hyper active and had potty humor, absolute, no intelligence, no wit, talking about putting olympic rings on his penis and sex immediatley after the show while thinking about britney spears.
britney spears was given 3 awards! can you believe that? they must have been for most times for escaping rehab and the justice system. an award for losing custody of your children. damn straight.
my lil sister was watching this shit.
thats how bad this brainwashing is. my lil sister would choose what that hyper active, decadent 13 year old boy trapped inside a hermaphrodite looking body, had to say versus her own blood brother.
the fool learns from his own mistakes.
if he talks about playing with his penis in front of a crowd young people and talks about having sex was an important thing for him to do than these things must be cooooooooool. he is so cool, he has a cool accent, i like the way he is dressed, he is hot, i will follow you forever.
ahhhhhhhhh! i feel like this world is out of control. last week i thought there was some progress made with people awakening to the bull shit of the world, how everything is controlled by psychotic maniacs that want to destroy you. well, i take that back. its overwhelming how many fools there are today.
the dumbing down of america is escalating.
and for all my friends that want "change" the new brainwashing mantra, "change, me want change" well y'all sound like a bunch of zombies saying "i want brains" "give me your brain
first
in case you didn'
now we got them on our teley
all of a sudde
do you know who is briti
point
isn'
so you got this punk on mtv promo
i want my peopl
the host was unusu
britn
my lil siste
thats
the fool learn
if he talks
ahhhh
the dumbi
and for all my frien
well, i like the first line about peace being soldiers not having to go to war. i like soldiers that fight for good and truth. its frightening to think that our soldiers are being taught a slanted ideology to defend. these are matters of intense spiritual deliberation, not expected to disturb a person's contentment, but place in perspective all that must be confronted one day. either in this life, or another. the psychology carries on, passes from lifetime to lifetime whatever it is.
the authority figure said we fight waste billions of dollars fighting wars for peace. I don't consider our modern war epidemic as fighting to maintain peace. That view point the authority figure expressed is that from which it is spoken. I kind of get the impression from the song 'Give Peace a Chance" implies the carnage of war. everything else that authority said was good to hear from such a being.