Walking tour of the living room art.

Here's where I show you some of my work that's up in the house right now. We're about to rotate some new art in so I'm feeling a bit sentimental. There's a good chance I won't see these pieces again for a couple years.

I'm totally into the big torso drawings. Gooped with intensive layers of paints and pencil and clear medium, they get pretty thick and tend to be shockingly heavy when you pick them up. These two are 40" x 26", slightly larger in the frames.



Yeah, I scribble all over them like I'm a third-grader.





Is there anything more fun than drawing pubes?





I like to fill up blank spaces with the most visual information.





This one was done in one day for a portfolio exchange. If you don't know, that's when, say, twenty printmakers all make an edition of twenty prints (that's the same print twenty times) and then send them out to whatever printshop has organized the exchange. That shop will then take one of every print and put them in a nice binding and send you back a slick package with everyone's work in it. The portfolios are usually themed (I don't remember the theme of this one, but I'm pretty sure is wasn't "severed genitals and house pets") and, more often than not, you end up with a lot of great art work.



And if that's not enough to feast your eyes on, I was recently turned on to this MySpace Page for one of my old bands. Can you guess which one of these hot metal chicks was me?

This morning I awoke to a marching band in my front lawn. These where taken through the diamond-cut window of my front door.





While in Chicago last weekend, setting up Mjolk's latest confectory brain song, I picked up a 1931 Patek concertina. It is housed in an ancient-looking, purple satin-lined leather case that is lined with hand-written polka music.







I nearly spat up when I opened the bellows and saw that they where metallic green to match the mother of pearl detailing on the corners.





I'd have been a fool to not immediately accessorize it with some kicks. I'm not the only smooth mother fucker with a Patek concertina and matching shoes.