it's a new year, and proximity to those resolving to improve their life and step into the next 365 days has me feeling the extra kick to do the same. osmosis stimulus. while undoubtably beneficial, i find the compartmentalization of time an arbitrary and potentially discouraging distillation. there are times when i'm productive, and times when i'm not. times of clarity and times of confusion. instead of waiting for the clock to force us into a sense of a fresh beginning, i choose to let the sum of my efforts and time accumulate as a whole. read, create, listen and accept challenges. having a rounded total existence, learning from mishaps and mistakes as they happen as opposed to setting a deadline to remedy my faults. i choose to embrace them. 




there is much to be gained by paying attention, bookmarking, filing and sketching out the ideas of others. if something strikes you as clever, beautiful, or disturbing, save it. somehow. when stumped for how to align your type or what colour scheme would work, look and see what others have done and steal that shit. seriously. there's a vast difference between copying and pulling inspiration from another artists work. you reacted to it strongly for a reason, use that reasoning in your own art. it's my unsolicited advice go-to. research, record, and then emulate to your hearts content.


Sketch Book Birds.jpg

mingled mediums

with the multitude of mediums, substrates, aesthetic and ideas, is there a real cause to choose and concentrate in one? as a proponent, and practitioner of creative focus deficits i rarely narrow that scope. while the term "visual artist" is a convenient umbrella to stand under, it's difficult to accurately describe ones art if they aren't solely dedicated to one form. is anyone? mix paint, charcoal, sweet, grit, ink, anything. it's all going to be regurgitated by whoever consumed it in the first place. without digital, paint, ink, graphite, charcoal, mixtures and excuses there would be less focus. for sure.


sketch book mixed.jpg


we all have our crutches, comfort zones, and security blankets. artistically speaking, my personal safe place remains a constant. the first thing I learned to draw (relatively) well were hands. I believe that's common, and right up there with the beloved eyeball. the visible part, anyhow. repeatedly recreating an object that feels safe has its plus sides. it's where an artistic identity can be formed, a line style developed. a way to keep your hand moving with the familiar, and allowing something new to creep in. flaws recognized, and embraced or discarded. example: that pinky totally blows. 




ear bone

I have a habit of taking photos of objects with my iphone with the intention of drawing them later. despite working in a print shop, I rarely print the photos and instead choose to work directly from the 4" screen. constantly going from tiny to large has no doubt sculpted the way I draw, as I actually find it rather difficult to draw true to size when using any source imagery. I find the reduction and expansion of visual source material is quite intriguing, exemplified by this drawing of a whale's (perhaps a great blue!) ear bone. big to small to big to small to.



break and entry

a sketch of a broken window from a past home in which I lived. the cause of the crack? the understandable desire to just go to bed after a late night out combined with the inevitable mistake we'll all make at least once in our lives: forgotten house keys. I just read an article about kiosks in new york that replicate your house keys for those sorrowful times when you get locked out. if only one of those had been outside our dwelling in this time of need. though, if that were the case, I wouldn't have been able to create this drawing.