Original Art

My man's the big man on the big screen. Daddy's gonna be a rock and roll star. I'm his pretty wife, sixteen, beauty-queen. You don't know you're happy until you really are.

I am bothered and wishing I were detached. I have people complaining that my work is anti-feminine. I guess I have been anticipating this response. But I am trying to delve into the anti-feminine drives within women that force us to act outside of our own self-interest. And beyond gender - I want to write a story about self-destruction. I wish the noise would stop because I have to tell this story. I promise I am genuinely investigating, never half-assed. How can it be? I've

Tears water the plants of tomorrow. Something gained, and something lost. Hopefully more gained than lost, though. That's the hope. You'll miss the way your hearts beats on Manhattan streets. Pushing through a crowd at some bullshit soirée. What it means to be a liberated woman with opportunity for tennis shoes. Choosing the kindest man I've ever met. That's my kind of Classic American Breakfast.

Who was ever celebrated for being a compromising artist?

I like drawing because you have to see what isn't there. You have to look onto the empty page, look into its emptiness, and conjure up an image. Then you have to hold the image there and keep it still for long enough to copy down. That requires a total focus, a blind focus, and it allows you to escape nearly everything else in your life.

Sometimes I get so afraid of drawing, I have to say to myself: “Okay, you’re bad, really bad. But isn’t there something kinda quaint and...

Where people recognize themselves in eachother. And it is so nice to meet you, old friend.

Yesterday was Easter, 4/20, and Hitler’s birthday.

am stranded out in who knows where. with only a pack of millennials for a friend, and my bubby o'course. somebody shoot me. not really.

my favorite artists draw like themselves no reason to do it any other way