I just went through the most excruciating task of deleting my old blog — hundreds of hours of writing and over two hundred posts gone. And yet here I am, starting fresh. In that past blog I spilled my guts to the world: I got into very personal territory and I wrote without a filter. Having strangers read some of those entries didn’t bother me in the slightest; it was only the thought of family and friends stumbling across the posts and realizing I was more of a freak than they had initially presumed that made me uneasy. As much as deleting it felt like a little death, it has also lifted a great weight from my shoulders. I no longer cringe when I direct people to my site. For those who didn’t follow my last blog, it detailed my struggles with mental health, medications, alcoholism and drugs — certainly not the sort of content your grandma would want to find. I was rather prolific back then, able to write several long entries a day, each one a deep, rambling plunge into my personal escapades. For now, this blog’s purpose is simple: to discuss art, poetry and music, along with a fair share of miscellaneous, meandering posts that may well waste your time — and perhaps, if you stick around, reward it.
It’s important to note that I am a high school dropout and I rarely paid attention in class even when I bothered showing up. I was spectacularly bad at school and was failing every subject with a certain flair. So if you’re after works of literature or polished prose, you will definitely not find them here. This is an art site after all, and I want to keep that focus before I start spewing out rubbish that will only come back and bite me. What I’m trying to say is that my writing is poor and spell check is my most trusted ally. I wish I had stronger creative writing skills. I enjoy the physical act of typing out words, but, much like my art, once a piece is finished it often leaves me unsatisfied. I can be my own worst enemy — a difficult, unrelenting critic. I’ve always struggled with this, though I am slowly getting better. As my recently deceased grandpa used to say, “The older you get, the less you give a fuck about what others think of you.” I’m trying to keep that as my mantra. I’m learning to accept people’s compliments on my art instead of talking myself down and letting my self-worth take the hit.
This site is now my secondary site. If you want to find my higher-quality, more recent work that is for sale, please use the navigation above to visit the main collection. Today I sold three pieces. What began as a hobby and a deep passion is still very much that, but I could now turn it into a modest business if I play my cards right. Part of making that possible has been pricing the paintings very affordably — I even give a few away from time to time. My old man keeps telling me to clear out the dozens of canvases scattered around the house and in the back sheds before I buy any more. I would love for you to have a look through my work, and if something catches your eye then it’s yours. It may sound crazy, but you’d actually be doing me a favor by taking them off my hands — and free really is pretty cheap.