Sunday, April 26, 2009

call us for a drawing orgy

click for details!

hildi, tere, dennis

gabo, roy, hildi, dennis

Saturday, April 25, 2009

you draw, i write, and vice versa

By comparison, the human being is 100 times smaller than the Chipo-Saucer-Sparklorous, or better known as Gone Ape Shit. Its the most commonly misperceived vernacular. In reality, to go ape shit is to dislodge collective society's chokehold against your 3rd eye. You carry a small galaxy on your shoulder- gravity and all. All eyes disappear except for the glowing purple cyclops vision. Serpent toes protect you from chakra robber; your connection to the ground repels you.

The moon riding greenies! a pack of wild fruits and vegetables that travel through the galaxies on a moon the shape of the seed of cheese trees. Some say it looks like a face. It is the strongest vehicle capable of swiftly infiltrating and rooting on new territories. These guys seem dangerous but they're just reacting to their past lives due to time holes out in space. Really, they're just awesome, and they might be coming to your neighborhood to start a riot. Consider yourself lucky.

Nadine was a traveled sort of gal slug bird. She's moved within galactic lifetimes or 55 billion homosapien earth invasions restart mode. She enjoys the kind of things all girls like to do, like sew a molecule sweater for cold genetic codes. Dreamy eyed she fantasized about the ultimate wet pussycat serpent bird, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. His eyes are full of warmth and pelvic thrusts. But don't be fooled, his mouth is not the obvious frontal upper pointy point, no. Beware of his scorpion prick that will always look up your celestial panties.

Come here babe, don't think I’ve never heard that before. I know all about that rock n' roll, Jesus camp, black flag, cheese pizzas, hairballs, capitalism, pickup lines, stupid minds, psychology acts, and fricking pop nonsense. Forget it all! Let your head explode, its not as bad as it sounds. What? You don't want a sun halo? Well it’s your call, step on the masses that fractured it all or drown in the lack of any kind of sense at all. Haha, yes, come on. I’m just another witch, but no one has ever had as many tricks as moi.

Hallelujah! Its raining candy coated cerebral cortex stimulants! Open wide kiddies, you know you want to take a mouth full of the singularity popping, life-time forming, genetic code embedding, leap frog paddy whack, give a dog a boner sultry treats! It’s filled with ancient stories of Mayan fox hunters chasing early extraterrestrial visitors that infused these primitive animals with the stimulating cord vortex and many more lifetimes beyond that.

This little guy comes from a family of magicians. As a kid he could be found ruffling around the contortionist's bra. It gave him the comfort of bending reality. Naturally, he's got white night vision and can juggle as many strings as you can find. He’s always had a thing for masks, and quite often wears several per day, though his favorites are octopi and ravens. He’s got a mad sense of humor, the kind that makes your face melt off with laughter though all you could ever see were birthmarks.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Life Story

After you've been to bed together for the first time,
without the advantage or disadvantage of any prior acquaintance,
the other party very often says to you,
Tell me about yourself, I want to know all about you,
what's your story? And you think maybe they really and truly do

sincerely want to know your life story, and so you light up
a cigarette and begin to tell it to them, the two of you
lying together in completely relaxed positions
like a pair of rag dolls a bored child dropped on a bed.

You tell them your story, or as much of your story
as time or a fair degree of prudence allows, and they say,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, until the oh
is just an audible breath, and then of course

there's some interruption. Slow room service comes up
with a bowl of melting ice cubes, or one of you rises to pee
and gaze at himself with mild astonishment in the bathroom mirror.
And then, the first thing you know, before you've had time
to pick up where you left off with your enthralling life story,
they're telling you their life story, exactly as they'd intended to all

and you're saying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, the vowel at last becoming
no more than an audible sigh,
as the elevator, halfway down the corridor and a turn to the left,
draws one last, long, deep breath of exhaustion
and stops breathing forever. Then?

Well, one of you falls asleep
and the other one does likewise with a lighted cigarette in his mouth,
and that's how people burn to death in hotel rooms.

"Life Story" by Tennessee Williams, from The Collected Poems of Tennessee Williams. © New Directions, 2002. Reprinted with permission (buy now)

Louise Bourgeois

Cindy Sherman, Nobody's Here But Me

Photographer and artist Cindy Sherman uses her self-portraits to highlight stereotypes of women that exist in film and magazines. In an extended interview, she talks about her artistic inspiration, the evolution of her photographic style, and what her photography is meant to accomplish.

Culture is your operating system

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


roy, gabo, dennis

Kelsey Brookes

"Kelsey's figurative paintings draw influence from Hindu and Buddhist deities, exotic animals and sex, as well as rustic American quilts. Each figure is adorned with ghostly representations of the natural world... animals and plants that unfold from the body into the surrounding canvas. His chimeras are frozen with animalistic intensity in explosive and sometimes tortured positions. Kelsey blames his raw, anxious form on the U.S. university system which refuses to teach its scientists how to draw."

Images and text via Kelsey's website

Richard Colman

Images via Richard's website

Tuesday, April 14, 2009