It was not a complete painting.
Everyone says that. Tells me that all the time. Nearly everyone who walks by the painting, tells me:
It’s missing a vital piece.
But, you know what?
You’re not the artist.
And that missing piece?
The one everyone so desperately wishes were still there?
It’s not what you think. Continue reading “Whole Pieces”
Stinging and scraping.
I break your skin to make it what you want it to be. Kill the top layers to make something beautiful. Gold traces silver and covers tan. Things that weren’t suddenly become, and the things that were are suddenly hidden.
New life on your skin. Continue reading “Art of Man”
I don’t know how young I was when I first saw him. Probably, I was very young. Very, very young. Because, as far back as I can recall, he’s there. Not in the forefront of things, but in the background. A shadow.
Until the day he talked to me.
It wasn’t that big of a deal to me. Not really. Sure, he was huge. Grotesque. Monstrous. But, what could he do about it? It was what it was. People can’t change how they look. That’s what I figured. That’s still sort of how I see it.
So I talked to him.
And then, I did it.
I made the deal. Continue reading “Deals”
Cameras capture moments.
I think that was a slogan for some… thing my college was doing. They wanted everyone to take pictures at this particular event, post them, tag them, blah blah blah.
But you know what I hate most about pictures?
You take a moment and you nail it into a frame. Rather then letting the moment breath and be in your memory, you taxidermy it because you’re not sure if you’ll remember it.
If you can’t remember it in ten years, then was it even worth taking a picture? Continue reading “Mouse as Art”