I think my Grandmother started taking me with her to her painting classes when I was five years old. We would go to the community center with lots of other silver haired folks. I got to have my own box of paint and brushes. I would paint pictures of what i thought it looked like on mars, but only after I had spent a few years working on fucking flowers.
Grams was a stern teacher. I would bring home pictures of trees I would draw at school and she would tear me a new one for drawing "like a child". " " Trees don't look like that !" she would bellow, the shrill tone of her voice would carry like the scream of a banshee over the cold Irish sea.
With that being said, I shortly stopped enjoying the adult pressures of the art world and set my sights on a much more easily attainable goal, getting totally Punk Rock.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Im very fortunate to live in my current version of a socialist utopia, the InArtsNw here in sunny Seattle Washington. Its so fuckin sunny here and every thing is such a perfect model for society that im allowed to live in a house with 32 people and draw all over the walls with my friends. The cops even come over and tell me how good of a job we are doing and they are very proud of us. Thanks dudes ! Here is what this winter has looked like from time to time.