I have been trying to post all day. Stymied by my own ever-vigilant bullshit detector. I could write about my exhibition/installation upcoming at ACME gallery, could muse about nests and names of the dead and how it is we define and instigate natural disasters. There's plenty I can say about the tunes I'm listening to, the articles or books I'm reading, what it's like to run a business that isn't mine but feels like it is, what it's like to actually wish I could live in San Francisco or Oregon somewhere where it's always raining like this. There's plenty roiling away in these guts I could describe - hope, vision, desire, fear, the way I internalize the external world, the way I'm affected by his sorrow or her cruelty. But really, this is already enough. What this is about is it's time for me to be painting and drawing. Language is just too much.
All of his animation is hand-drawn.
And he was born in Houston Texas.
I know you say the rain is your favorite weather but it sounds like it's making you blue. OR maybe it's just that you don't feel like talking words but want to connect. There's days and weeks I can be like that.
Posted by: | 24/02/2005 at 17:30
Gurl that bunny is ill. Do you realize it's double entendré (sp?)? Of course you do.
Posted by: Detroit S. | 24/02/2005 at 17:31
did you get to check out Mel of Houston?
Posted by: clara obscura | 25/02/2005 at 22:34
renaissance head
Posted by: | 27/02/2005 at 18:52
http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2005/02/28/nyregion/28jail_slide02.jpg
Posted by: drr | 28/02/2005 at 02:16