You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘blast from the past’ category.

I think, as artists, there are specific points in our lives by which we can measure renaissance, growth, epiphany. “Lightbulb” moments, or, in retrospect, a trail of crumbs that has lead us to the ground upon which we stand today. I’m young so mine are small, but meaningful all the same.

When I was in kindergarten, I had to make a snowman out of torn pieces of paper. I couldn’t tear a circle, only squares. I vowed to get better…

A couple years later, I made this:

And by 5th grade, I was a staple in the school and town student art shows.

When I was 18, I drew these:

And a year later, someone stole the one on the right off the wall in my home (luckily it was recovered – thanks, Tiff).

I had more art stolen off The Fire’s restroom walls sometime between 2005-2008.

People paid for my art too, starting in 2005.

I was a featured artist at one of the local Starbucks in 2006 and (yet AGAIN!) had piece stolen right off the wall.

I made a serious tracking mistake when I got “this is war” tattooed on my arm. I vowed to study type & never make an error like that again.

A couple years later, requests for tattoo designs were coming in tenfold.

My photographs have been transfered to canvas and hang in others’ homes.

My ad design was seen in Chicago Social Brides magazine.

A poster I designed was part of a group exhibit in Chicago.

A self portrait I shot on B&W film was part of a group exhibit in Chicago.

I got hired at the Art & Design Portfolio center at Columbia.

Nickelodeon and Disney had real live copies of my design work sitting on their television show developers’ desks.

The government recognized me as a self-employed graphic designer and photographer.

And in between all those things, I was so inspired by Franz Kline, Sabrina Ward Harrison, Dada, the Situationist International, The Weathermen, Alphonse Mucha, Paul Rand, Emigre as a whole, and a few real good professors and colleagues. ┬áThe little things are most important to me, the looking back & the recognition of my creative self. Pinpointing my achievements and realizing what’s meaningful. I’m more proud that my work’s been stolen than sitting on the desks of enormous corporations. I’m more proud that my work’s permanently on people’s bodies than on the walls of galleries. I like the ceramic birdhouse that I made in 3rd grade much better than I like the work I do for my corporate clients. I like the impromptu hipstamatic photos I shoot on my iPhone better than the planned portrait sessions I’ve been paid for. But it’s all good, it’s all my life and I’m happy…

“if it does not feed the fire of your creativity, then leave it.

if people and things do not inspire your heart to dream, then leave them.”

third street

doty avenue

peckham road

plymouth court

barstow street

south park avenue

water street

mildred avenue

clark street

buckingham place

kenmore avenue

[three of these streets i’ve lived on twice]

reveling / reckoning

You will be safe
You will be asleep
Someone will have their hand running through your hair
The world is full of images
Some of them will be transparent
Ghosts, they’re only catching bigger things
You will be safe in the dark
You will be warm at night with the windows open
You will be loved, you’ll remember

[Rachel’s]

[listening to “Gas Station,” Damien Jurado]

When Tiffany & I were 16 or 17, we began to partake in Lighthouse Confessionals which are exactly what they sound like. We’d go together or alone, usually on a sharp hangover & toting Gatorade the whole way. I have volumes of memories of the lighthouse stacked on top of one another; some of them silly, some breathtaking, some completely lonely, some I still wish I could forget. The lighthouse has seen and heard more than I could ever imagine; it means something different and yet completely important to god knows how many people (Alison, I think of you while writing this)…

Today was one of the lonely days; it felt like this:

You can’t keep me here now, it’s never been my home / The lights all blinking and now all I’m thinking is ‘how the hell did I get here?’ / This fence around your garden won’t keep the ice from falling / I’d always planned to come back for you, but we both how know you’d never leave…

Some days are off days, today couldn’t be described as anything else. I don’t have any money but I don’t mind. I don’t have any direction and that bothers me.

We could disappear in echos . We could disappear in the live of those we love . I thought hope was lost . I tried not to look back . Haunted by darkened thoughts . The void drew me closer . Until we are brought back . By the lives of those we love . Hope was lost . I closed my eyes .

[frodus]