new ink ''four"

This is a piece I just finished. I'm gearing up for a little show I'm going to have at Perpetua Gallery in Fishtown in June.

SF Series

first 2 pages from a "choose your own adventure" book

Portrait Of An Abomination

Hey Zeus Aitch

Nice, Asshole

George (Cover)

The zine George asked me for a cover, here it is.

Skate or Die

Here is a skate deck I just finished for the Skate or Die IV show that opens at Young Blood Gallery in Atlanta, GA on May 2nd. Go buy it for $100.

BileZogBug & the origin of the Goblins

Deep in the malodorous, cryptic guts of the earth, BileZogBug, a vulgar, bloated, demonic Goblin like entity is slurping from semi-digested piles of rotting human remains. These have been brought to him by the initiates of a unearthly Goblin "Maggot Fly" cult. The mystery of Goblin origin is revealed, as they are expunged as "witch's eggs" by this vile & magic monstrosity, phasing in & out of this plane. The eggs hatch & from them emerge corpulent, glistening & pale Goblin Maggots which, fed on scraps of rotting human meat & bilious earthen slime eventually develop into full-formed Goblins to be whisked away to the surface & away from any memories of their disgusting birth rites.
color version. Maybe i'll start spelling it "colour" like i used to.


My, my, look how they've grown!

Pie Holes

Billiards/ Dream Diary

Dream diary, Entry #1: Sitting in the sand, chessboards.

Dream diary, Entry #2: I am with an old childhood classmate, Joseph U. His arm is in a bandage. I throw him a canned soda and he catches it with his teeth.

Dream diary, Entry #3: I am in a pet shop, naked. I walk among reptiles and fur, feeling uncomfortable and when I realize that there are tigers in the room with me I tell myself to wake up and I do.

Dream diary, Entry #4: I am playing with my old radio, the one with a broken antenna. I look closely and see a small screw on the antenna. I realize that the "bent" angle is actually a deliberately constructed steel hinge by the manufacturers. I adjust the angle and the radio changes frequencies.

Dream diary, Entry #5: My father calls to inform me that he has purchased a gigantic cactus, with a fountain for a flower pot, and has placed it in the middle his living room. He invites me to come home and have a look. When I arrive home I hear my mother screaming hysterically. I run to the living room and find the fountain blood red. The cactus has bred and grown through all of my father's belongings. Cacti has grown through the fish tank. My father's arowana fish is covered in fluorescent green moss, impaled on the cactus thorns. The fluorescent green looks artificial, spray painted... I think that this might be a test. Then I see my father's dead torso, his genitals, eyeballs, and severed ears hanging from these giant thorns protruding from the surface of cactus skin. I think that this is NOT a test. I scream with and throw myself against the thorns, but they have turned soft, like pubic hair. I hear my mother's voice laughing and telling me it was just a test. I force myself to wake up.

Dream diary, Entry #6: Semiconductors and oranges being mashed into a juicy and metallic pulp inside a roaring furnace.

Dream Diary, Entry #7: Inside a castle on a mini golf course, everything is covered with white ash. For a moment I can't be sure whether certain people I know exist outside the dream or not, then I see teeth among the ashes and realize that I am in an incinerator and I am covered in the remains of people who cease to exist when I wake up.

Dream Diary, Entry #8: A wooden temple built inside a concrete building, with transparent roof and floors, made out of thousands of clear glass panels. There are cigarette butts scattered on the roof, and peanut shells under the glass floor. It is bright outside and it illuminates everything inside the concrete building. The wooden temple's interior resembles the bathroom in my dad's house, before it was renovated.

Dream Diary, Entry #9: I am probably at some kind of "happening" in Japan in which an artist drives a bulldozer into a temple/ bathroom filled with water and shit and piss, where tentacle porn is being shot by an invisible crew with visible equipment. I hear them chattering fading in and out of consciousness. When I end up being straddled between an octopus and shards of mirror from the bulldozer's rear window, bleeding I tell myself to wake up and I do. I experience sleep paralysis.

Dream Diary, Entry #10: I am in the middle of either dying or waking up. I regret dying because I will cease to exist by the time she wakes up. I also worry that she will cease to exist when I wake up.

Yap

do what you want just don't remove the corn syrup switchblade from my utility belt

leave myself vulnerable and it's nothing a little anger

can't resolve, a little fuel for the lemon scented pontiacs which Margie drove into the storm, pursued by

a man holding a

corn syrup switchblade dipped in every first born's semen, with their doorsteps marked with blood, which let out a scent which rats from the cornfield picked up on. The rats ran in packs towards the cottage, chewed through everything edible over the bacteria coated floor with the housewife's bloated corpse was decomposing upstairs

Utility belt.

Put the Egg whites and cherries in a large bowl. Start stirring until you get a pinkish mass. Pour in the baking soda. As you do this you will notice heat building and a small amount of smoke being let off. Wait about 10 minutes to cool. Then Pour in the red wine. Immediately after you do this, steam will gather and after a few seconds you will be left with A clear liquid at the bottom of the bowl.

drink up

Three hours later, there was nothing left of the set but charred remnants of wood, paper, skeletons, and the hot, stinking smell of gasoline.

I sound like a pompous little jack sparrow... Like Woody Woodpecker tapping on the marble surface of your glass, or twirling my imaginary beak through the soft plasma screen pulling out a non-kinetic string of dead loose guts from my belly, digested remains of many things which I reel towards the center with my measuring-tape-fishing-pole, the center engorged the glut that reels towards the center, a whole vault of transcendental black comedies that reels towards the center, fruits reel towards the center, lemons, cherries, apples, grapes, onions, garlic

… forbidden fruits plucked in the harvest of excess…

彼は死んでいる!

Screen shots from Andrzej Zulawski's 1972 film Diabel (The Devil) -- totally nuts, like most of his films.

Traditional Collage

Here's a few traditional collage pieces. These are done on old trading cards with bits cut from national geographics, catalogs, dirty mags and old comics. I have a few larger collage works hanging about somewhere. I'll post them at some point. I like doing collages, but they get a little tedious for me at times. I'll get bent on an idea and wind up wasting much time scouring through magazines trying to find the perfect images to use...

Egg

NOW IN COLOR!

A nasty bunch of solar cultists taking their sacred cannon somewhere or other. I'm not sure what these guy's whole bag is yet, but it can't be altogether pleasant. I'm using the traditional "baked beans" Punk Fantasy color scheme of master John Blanche.

Wheel

So much for my taking a break from EBD...

More Hair and I Don't Care