Ideally I want my sketch pads to be page after page of ideas for potential paintings. But usually it's a goo-filly written story I need to get out of my head, or an unfinished drawing. I guess I can consider my preliminary sketches in my sketch pad unfinished paintings.

Who knows what I'll be calling it by the time my show in August happens. Last Rites will be using it for an ad in Hi Fructose magazine. I'm sure it will be the size of a postage stamp, but an ad none the less. The weirdness for me is I've had my illustrations that were appearing every week in Sports Illustrated in the '90s when their circulation was 2.5 million. The Week Magazine has a circulation in the hundred  thousands and yet I'm very excited to be in such a major industry magazine. Putting your work out for everyone to see in an age when everyone puts all their shit out in the world for it to "like" and "share" etc. I don't do that a lot. I have no interest in what people ate, or their kids, or their giant log they just dropped in the toilet.... unless the log looks like a famous person. I've drawn and painted since I was a little kid. It's never been a concern that anyone is analyzing or interpreting what I depict until I grew up and realized I was participating in a visual language. I wonder if people's food pictures will eventually bring in a new visual language that will become an art movement on the level of the Pre Raphaelites, Surrealism, Color Field, or whatever. So here is my food pic. We'll just say portions are important.

Ink sketch.

Drawing at the coffee shop this past week. Starting to gel on this image finally. It's been floating around in my head for a while but haven't been finding the right composition that resonates with me until now.

Life with Molly Crabapple. A fun little birthday party for our friend Ella last night. Parties we host are about the only reason we clean. Other reasons: Molly has a photo shoot, an interview, a collector, etc over. NEVER because it just needs it and it's what civilized people do. We do clean after parties also. Too much clutter and bottles and the occasional body or two to just leave there!

One of the nice things about our friends. Some bring really nice booze!

Molly found some shoes that were left at the party. She immediately fell in love with them. I awoke to the clip clop of glittery heals and an almost naked girl brandishing a broad sword also left at the party last night.

  It's not a long story. I don't think it's even an interesting story. I stopped in one of my favorite coffee shops called "Ports" on 23rd St. It's right next to a barber and a trinkets store. I guess if I went nuts some day I could go right down the line. Buy some crystals, drink some super caffeinated coffee and then try to sit still for a shave.

Sitting in a coffee shop drawing while listening to three people who hadn't seen each other for some time catch up. The coffee at least was good.

Painting the figure live is special. Classes in college would be devoted to it. Three to six hours of staring and observing and interpreting... It was always intense for me. I never got bored with it or dreaded it. Sadly, I don't get to do it anymore. I guess I could make it happen, but my time is too precious to not be making something I'm planning to sell. I accumulated nearly hundreds of paintings that were never finished. Not worthy to sell, but still there would be a little oasis of goodness that I would like about them. I've destroyed a lot of them. Sometimes I go back in to one to try out a new approach to painting. Sometimes I just feel like finding a volcano to toss them all in. I will appease the godz with my paintings (of what I'll tell them) virgins and thus prevent them from destroying the earth as exciting as that might be.