tattooland

I'm addicted to vintage tattoo inspired aesthetic, so much so that I made an entire tattoo-inspired wonderland.

This addiction is a little bit out of control, but I think after this one, it's out of my system.

Materials: artist's board. acrylic paint.

Seattle Paintings #4: The big 'un

This is my monster. I don't recall the exact measurements of the canvas but I'm guessing it's 60"x48". This is the largest painting I have ever worked on. It's about 12xs the size of one of the twins. The female figure is based on the back of the Venus de Milo (an image that the commissioner mentioned as a favorite of his).


This painting was an exploration of various textures. Although it's difficult to tell in the pictures, the spotted areas of white on her back accentuate the crackle paste that I used. I wanted to contrast the smoothness of her lines and the nature curves of the female body with a rough surface covered with imperfections, cracks and deep fissures. I used a fan brush on the red/gold section to create a curious almost rake-like texture. It kind of looks like it was sponge painted. I watered down the acrylic paint and let it drip down the blue section. On the bottom third of the painting (water?), I used staccato arc-like movements to create a wavey texture. The white sections of the painting were done with white paint on a piece of cardboard that I carefully dragged around the canvas.

Seattle Paintings #3: The Twins

These paintings were not originally intended to be a part of the series. However, the friend who commissioned me wanted to have a painting night in which I was to teach him a few basics. I decided to teach him a quick and awesome technique involving cardboard and blobs of paint that I later employed on the city series. We sat down on his apartment floor with trash bags and newspaper spread out on his nice hardwood floors, put on Monster's Inc. and made masterpieces. At the end of the evening he asked me if there was any way he could add those to his collection because he loved them so much. I call them The Twins. They're quite small (8"x10"), but they're super charming.

Thing #1

Thing #2

Seattle Paintings #2: City on Fire Series

Now that FAIL is out of the way, I can move on to success. FAIL was originally intended to the centerpiece of a three part series but never got past the first part. From a mental standpoint, these were less about composition than they were about moving paint around on the canvas. After the excruciating mental effort that FAIL required of me, I decided to approach FAIL #2 without intention or forethought. I knew which colors to use and roughly where to use them (burnt orange and golds towards the top, blues towards the bottom) but that's it. I mixed acrylic with water and played with opacity and blending. I squeezed out splotches of paint directly onto the canvas and used pieces of cardboard to spread. I got into the zone that doesn't involve thinking about what you're doing, just doing. I think it looks like the skyline of a city that is on fire.

This is the piece that directly replaced FAIL as the centerpiece. (24"x24")


And this is the piece in context of its series. (each side piece is 10"x24")

Seattle Paintings #1: FAIL big and go home

A friend commissioned several paintings to decorate his apartment. As my very first commission, I was nervous to come up with something satisfactory. I took him to a paint store and asked him to pick out a color palette of acrylic paint and canvases, and asked for a list of images he is drawn to. After several months of incubation, planning, trial and error and more error, I came up with seven satisfactory paintings. But, before I get to my successes, I'd like to present a painting that I fondly titled FAIL.

This was my first attempt of the series. It was the first concept that I came up with and since it is the smaller of the two large pieces, I thought I'd get the "easier" one out of the way. Wrong. This painting was the bane of my existence for several months. I was plagued with the frustration of being completely unable to translate my vision to the canvas. Most of my paintings start off as a relatively clear picture in my mind that then transforms and evolves as it comes into being. This one sucked when I started it and sucked when I finished/abandoned it. I attempted concept after concept, a variety of methods, I painted white over entire sections, I took breaks and completed other paintings, I asked several helpful artistic minds for input and I still managed to fail. I lost sleep mulling it over and woke up in the middle of the night with a new brilliant idea that would save my crap painting, which never worked...

Two weeks prior to leaving Seattle, I put FAIL aside, bought a new canvas and cultivated a new frame of mind. Sometimes you just have to know when to say when. If there was a theme for my year in Seattle, I'd say it was giving up. In a good way. I can't fix everything. Sometimes giving up is a perfectly appropriate and acceptable response. I tried to cover up the evidence of what didn't work instead of putting those remains aside for a blank slate with unlimited potential.

When I think about it (don't want to get too philosophical here, but I can't help but make the comparison), my dear FAIL was the physical manifestation of what was happening in several areas of my life. You can only put forth so much effort and invest so much time before you have to take a step back to admit to yourself that it is not working. I'd never given up on a painting before, I'd never given up on a relationship before, and I certainly hadn't taken a second look at the career that I've dedicated a decade and am now veering away from.

I don't know if FAIL ended up in a dumpster or as an eyesore on someone's wall, but either way I am grateful for FAIL for the hell it put me through and how wonderful it felt when I figured my way out of it.

Moral of the story: Fail big. Fail often. Then get a new canvas and create something fantastic.

To paint or not to paint: shoes.

Object: A pair of platform cork sandals that the mom's friend bestowed upon me.
Answer: To paint.
Materials: acrylic paint, suitable shoes that are in need of some glam.

Just your average cork platforms become vibrant vintage tattoo vessels for your footsies!

Now if only these shoes weren't hideously uncomfortable to wear...