My pictures are confused, abrupt, adamant, honest and entirely lacking in foresight. They are born from an argument between life's experiences, subconscious impulses and my own muddled aesthetic preferences; this dialogue is strained but ongoing. They are made possible only by the depth of my illness and the gift of my sobriety. I have accepted both graciously. They are, individually and as a group, an unwitting self-portrait.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Give a listen to Igor and the Red Elvises singing "Rocketman". Its cold war, iron curtain, secret agent, atomic-age surf music.
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