LAX

Well, delayed in LAX The 10 hours I will be home before I fly out again is being whittled down. And now I've lost my phone...

Oh well this is my life. I'm just sorry I lost the pictures that were on the phone. 

 

I do love airports though,

 Not able to paint yet, too many roomates for the fumes, but I have been working! I redid the table top by chopping it up and retiling it.

 

 

 

North Carolina on my Mind.

Here I am in the "first in flight" state. It is very Duke instead of Harvard down here, but it is so much more beautiful.  I am happily employeed at the best job I've ever had. This was a career making choice. I've had a raise and two bonuses already, and I'm still in training!

I will post a pic of the table I hand tiled, I am very proud. Next up, cement bowls. 

 

Romney: Get out and DON'T come back.

It's not that I have anything against mormons... oh wait yes I do. But why couldn't we get "Donny and Marie", why this asshole? We don't mind having republican governors in Massachusetts, but this nut helped push republicans off the mat for decades to come in this state. Not that I have anything against republicans... oh wait, yes I do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Get out of our statehouse! Actually, get out of our state! 

Unwholesome Flesh

This is unsettling, the skin tone I did last night is FUCKED! Was it the dim lighting? Did I just grab the wrong tube and not NOTICE? Or, is this the exact shade my friend was befor he died...

 

 

 

This isn't the sepia toned, old tymey starched collar beginning I invisioned. This is just dead looking. 

Ah Memory, Gay Boston from Gay New York

I was reading Will - from Designer Blog (I think that has now become his proper name: Will-from-designer-blog) and he brought back memories of my trips as a high school student to the Museums of New York City.

I, and my way too cool friends, used to scam our high school teachers into signing cut-slips for us to tool the 40 miles down to the city to see "The artwork, we swear!" for whole afternoons. Our fellow students truly hated us for the suck ups we truly were, if only they had known... we actually went to the museums.

I  fell in love with works of art there. The sculptures and painting left me hyper with need. I wanted to see it all, I wanted to do it all... especially the naked men types.

If ever I got seperated from my friends, they knew to look for me around the Canova Perseus. How did they not know I was gay? I would stand and stare. Never up close, but from a discrete distance. What I really wanted was to touch it. I wanted to rub my hand up it's leg and thigh. I wanted to caress it's face and stare it in the eye. I wanted it to rest one muscled arm on my shoulder, while I leaned my head on it's perfect chest.

 Was that too much too ask? Oh hush up, I was a sensitive youth. 

 We all have things we want to do before we die. I want to touch that stone. Just once.

 

 

Beauty everywhere in my mind

A beautiful man, a beautiful beach a beautiful day, how many times can I paint that? Aparently bunches. I keep finding pictures with odd light effects or great poses that I want to paint Or is it just the men?

 

by jrizz0816

 

Or

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gone

It's so hard not to have Patrick around to chatter with. All the movies and culture and politics not commented on.

 

Will I ever get past an eleven oclock and not think of him? 

My Space Chatter

 My add on Myspace.com: 

One piece of my art... not me... or my piece! 

 

About me:
Boston gay-guy interested in all the regular gay-guy stuff: art, theater, classical music... blah blah. Old enough to have been through disco the first time around, but young enough not to care the second time around! Painting is a passion of mine. I took a few semesters in school but ultimately moved on to more "concrete" interests (Pyschology, history and computers). How odd that the one thing that has stayed with me all through the years - is painting. Even those years when I created nothing and lived in small spaces, I kept my supplies at hand; as close as a new england bed & breakfast keeps it's melancholy ghost.

I love ocean waters. They effect my every sense, even that elusive sixth sense. My very first experience with the ocean was telling. I walked up to the water line, my infant toes right at the edge of the water, and stared open-mouthed at the ebb and flow. After a few hypnotic moments I tasted salt in my mouth and realized with a jolt that was in the surf. I had tottered right over into the surf. My family tell me it was comical but I would have desribed it as magical. Except the scraped shins...

I love the male form (take note of the gay reference above). so my artwork lately features... wait for it... naked men on the beach. It is my hope to one day transend the vision I can see with my eyes and paint the world with the perfect harmony of an enlighted life.

But... I would settle for being able to get the feet right. I don't have a fetish about feet (I think) but I can't help thinking about them. Have you ever really looked at a foot? Try to understand how hard it is to represent a human foot using paint. We are trained to read all kinds of things into the human form. Eyes, lips, hands, even shoulders can be imbued with almost other-worldly meaning. The foot, however, is seen as simply a foot. It wasn't until I started painting that I understood why so many of the old masters spent margin after margin on feet. I have always thought The Mighty Mike and Gaughan are about the only people who really put some personality into it. But enough about feet.

And enough about me.

Now Playing: He went on Wen.
He was improving but an infection, which is what we were all in fear of, set in on Mon. by Tues we knew there was no hope. On Wen., with just me in the room, I held him while they stopped the support. I don't think he was aware of me, but I spoke to him anyway.