4.5 x 6.5 feet, oil on canvas
The Exchange
February 26th, 2009Coming of Age
February 26th, 2009
3.5 x 2.5 feet, oil on canvas
panda pin-ups
February 12th, 2009
sexy pandaz.
quick design – forbidden
January 31st, 2009
c’est interdit d’interdire.
forbidden to forbid.
запрещать запрещено.
verbieten verboten.
禁止将禁止.
i wanna be the fool
January 10th, 2009“the Fool is untamed, unpredictable, sometimes destructive, arising from pre-creation times, galumphing through life unmindful of past or future, good or evil. always improvising, unmindful of the consequences of his acts, he may be dangerous; his own experiments often blow up in his face or in others’. but because his play is completely free and untrammeled – for fools rush in where angels fear to tread – he is the creator of culture and, in many myths, the creator of the other gods. for the sake of being accepted, we can forget our source of inspiration and put on one of the rigid masks of professionalism or conformity that society is continually offering us. the childlike part of us is the part that, like the Fool, simply does and says, without needing to qualify himself or strut his credentials.”
-stephen nachmanovich, violinist
bling pope
January 3rd, 2009the headless idiot that i am i ended up leaving my tablet stylus back in the dorm, now locked for the break by nazi management. as such i cant do a decent coloring job on anything in PS. but i made do:
my first stencil – 那个please
December 27th, 2008
play on words a la russell peters. 那个 (”neiger”) is a chinese filler word used about as often as “like” is in english.
sexy 工人
December 25th, 2008
mmmm. migrant workers.
matty n ana beijing shitshow
December 25th, 2008
ahh. beijing. ana and matty glorious. joyful harmony societal. worker production exceed quota.
“our experience of beijing is a sort of journey into a parallel universe; a wormhole, a bizarre alternate reality populated by creatures like winnies and bernices and shane’os.” – matt
more beijing
August 4th, 2008Beijing. The smog robs slick new buildings of their shine and me of my health. Beijing covers buildings with bathroom tile. Entire buildings covered in bathroom tile. An abandoned shopping cart next to a pile of pavement rubble in a wide hallway behind a line of shops.
This way to Line 2, this way to Line 13. Masses of Chinese scurry through grimy subway halls. The Yellow River, rushing, colliding. I am mystified and irritated. Some pre-reform instinct to beat the queue. The trains come every 2 minutes. I walk leisurely, letting the river curve around me. A stout older woman shuffles quickly without straightening her knees to keep her backpack from bouncing. Her thin slippers slip and slide on the dust-slick floor. A teenager with porcupine hair and black earphones in his head overtakes her on the stairs. He leaps two at a time.
They rarely stare on the train. This is Beijing. Foreigners everywhere. Once in a while I catch a curious glance. Gives me an excuse to stare back. I love their eyes. The top eyelid, long and sharp, the bottom one a smooth bend rounded at the inner corner. Tear-shaped incisions in smooth skin. Few Asians have truly unpleasant faces, unlike Europeans. Smooth, chiseled, they age slower. They rarely lack chins, unless fat. But there are too many of them, all black hair and black eyes. They want white skin, big round eyes. Not all, just most.
