Dada.. dado?

The Dada movement isn't one that many elite artists actually view as a "genuine" art movement. I'm not one of those people. I think it was a reflection of the times then.. and now. Although you don't see the word "Dada" in most art of today.. Dada lives on and is evident in the plastic world we live in.

Man Ray- Andre Breton, Paul Eluard, Rene Hilsum et Louis Aragon, circa 1920.

red rum

This is a pic of a new oil painting I started working on today. It is truly on my list of new year's resolutions to start and finish this painting. I haven't really thought about the background much. I'm thinking about leaving it white... or incorporating some sort of typography in there. Not really sure yet. All in all.. I'm glad I started painting on this rainy day. If you can't tell, the shoes are a deep crimson red. This is the best my camera phone can do!

Ladies & Robots

An enticing pair. With it's dark armor, hard, clean lines... who doesn't want to snuggle up to a metal beast? Well.. at least for a little while. But I do wonder if they made all the right parts for Mr. Metal? LOL! Wouldn't I want to know...

via Dark Roasted Blend

Sky Gellatly

I wouldn't say I'm an avid blogger.. or follower of any blog, per se. But.. I happened upon this blog by a man called: Sky Gellatly. He majored in English Literature at Hamilton College, which is pretty evident in his work. After reading one of his latest posts, I had to share and reblog immediately for more eyes to see. It makes you want to do get up and do something.. and not many things can do that. Take a look...
reblogged from Sky Gellatly

REAL TALK: Eagle versus the Fox

Even the menacing golden eagles of Kazakhstan can be tamed. And they are used as weapons.

Not all birds float in flocks. Some birds can kill a fox. A heightened perspective can in fact defeat even the most mighty of the cunning who are always looking sideways–to cover their tracks.

I often spin myself into a succession of sharp whirlwinds (read: the bags under my eyes). I have to remind myself that even the Bermuda Triangle is a finite vacum. You can only ingest and internalize so much before you rupture.

Every once in a while you just have to say “No.” The ability to reject is the ability to protect.

Sometimes I wonder why people get tattoos on their necks. On the one hand, I think “well, you’re gonna regret that when you get older.” The other part of me thinks “when I’m older, maybe a neck tattoo would remind me that I was young–while I was still young.”

Cuts are only skin deep. Scars are forever.

When you decide to give openly, don’t be surprised when, one day, something you held close might just be gone–not borrowed.

Because I don’t tread carelessly, I reserve the right to be very picky.

Playing hard to get doesn’t mean that you won’t get got.

When you loan friends money, give with the expectation of never getting it back. It’s about being able to help; it’s not about getting back your “paper.”

No matter the amount of time that passes, time can’t heal the actual action that creates hurt. It can only render our senses complacent; perhaps it increases our ability to rationalize that which was–into that what we wished it was. Or maybe into that which it could have been.

History is spontaneity rendered into a linear line of truth. Reformists posit their stance thereafter.

Don’t be “too aggressive at the start.”Don’t fall victim to “too little, too late.” Rock right in the happy pocket in the middle. To date: this medium is the forever impossible.

As a zero sum dialectic kind of end: you either build or you destroy. The middle ground is just us deciding to use nails either as tools that effect adherence, or as sharp daggers to draw blood.

Maybe it’s not that deep.

My light burns bright, check your photometer.

Le