My apartment is slowly starting to look more and more like the inside of my head. No, not messy and fart-filled, but covered top to bottom with loud, irreverent images that alternatively amuse and horrify me, depending on the day.
A while back I waxed on how Garbage Pail Kids had ruined by life by triggering a compulsive 'collector' behavior in me and this post will only hammer that point home. Sure, these are technically art and as everyone knows, only classy people are down with art, but when I look around my abode, it's hard not to see these as giant, limited-edition trading cards posted up everywhere.
Tim Doyle does a scene from my favorite movie of all time. So many scenes to pick from and I love that he went with this subdued, emotional one. It really reminds of me something out of a war movie, with one soldier keeping his wounded brother-in-arms alive. Amid the greed, deception and violence of the botched diamond heist, a brief moment of intense camradarie is captured, made all the more tragic by the fact that we know the dying Mr. Orange's true nature. And something about that skyline just adds a sense of poetry to the whole thing. This is from the Spoke Art Tarantino/Coen Bros. shows. Those bastards made me choose from around 40 different amazing pieces, and as much as I wanted them all, this was definitely my favorite of the bunch.
Mumm-Ra, while strong and wise, has too much manic energy to whip up an elaborate cake, but luckily the Hulkster is on hand to not only keep him in check, but to set a strong example for Real Americans everywhere. How does this exist? Betty Turbo's series of baking related art is pleasantly bizarre through and through, but this features a real focused insanity that speaks directly to my soul. I framed and hung this son of gun in my kitchen and vow to hang it in every kitchen I own until the day Hulkamania dies (never).
When I found out Dragatomi had been holding monthly art shows for the last few months, I was curious as to what I might have missed so far. When I found out that the last one featured art inspired from John Carpenter's "Big Trouble in Little China", I died a little inside, devestated that I had missed it. When I found out it was still on display with prints for sale, I ducked out of work early to see what I could get my grubby hands on.
When I see art like this I can't help but think, "The Mona Lisa really can go fuck itself." If we could get images tattooed on the inside of our eyelids, I'd probably impulsively choose this. Maybe it's the years of Street Fighter 2, but I've always been a sucker for sunbursts and kanji characters. The insane intensity of Lo Pan is perfectly captured here, and I love the color choices and application. The artis is Danny Miller, who I wasn't familiar with before, but I'm already anxiously awaiting to see what he cooks up next.
In case you didn't know, podcasts are the next shit. Whereas radio and television are ruled by what will sell and what won't, any dipshit with a laptop and a mic and make his own podcasts, which allows some oddly fascinating voices to be heard on weekly basis. While I mostly listen to stand-up comedians podcasts (which are like free, weekly comedy albums), one of favorites is Colt Cabana's Art of Wrestling. Colt shoots the shit with battle-scarred vets which plays out like "The Wrestler" if it had been directed by a young Kevin Smith. I'd been wanting to pick up something from his merch site to support the free awesomeness he provides, and when he dropped this limited print by DC comic artist Mike Norton, I instantly snatched one up (number 4 of 250!)
The Wire is like smoking weed. Either you never really gave it a chance and don't fuck with it, or you tried it and loved it more than life itself. If you fuck with the Wire, then you are most likely marveling at the beautiful son of a bitch above (and if you don't, stop by Sexington Manor on Sunday night for the weekly Wire/weed marathon). The Barksdale Crew, masterfully rendered by (again) Tim Doyle in a style that reminds of me of Mexican loteria cards. Originally part of a second series of Wire handbills (the first was a blue rendition of the show's police officers), this uncut sheet puts a big, dumb grin on my face every time I see it. Tim dropped these via Twitter on Easter Sunday and I am not ashamed to admit that I fled my family's Easter festivities with a quickness so I could get my order in before they sold out. And I probably wouldn't be a true Wire nerd if I didn't point out Method Man's "Cheese" character (second row from the bottom/far right), is the only character not formally tied to the Barksdale crew (Cutty and Mouzone worked for them, but Cheese was Prop Joe's soldier/nephew). But one of my life rules is "adding Wu Tang to something never hurts" so at the end of the day, Cheese's inclusion only enhances Doyle's masterpiece. When you walk through the garden, you better watch your back.
Yep. That's me right there. For years I've marveled at Casey Garcia's paintings of the beautifully tragic, and when she hinted that she might be painting me as a birthday gift last year, I forbid myself to even fathom what it would look like. I would sheepishly inquire as to the progress she was making, only to be told she was still putting the finishing touches on it. She kept me on pins and needles for 8 damn months, but those finishing touches paid off, cause on her last visit down from Seattle, she unveiled this bad motherfucker. I'm not sure if she turned up the handsomeness, or just downplayed my goofiness, but this is definitely the painting I'll be showing to my cats when I'm old.