studio life

I used to watch my grandfather paint in his attic for hours. Traditional chinese calligraphy and water colors.  The rich, deep aroma from his pipe filling the room.  He was my first art instructor. How many lessons I gained watching him work, subconsciously learning the trades of the craft, hand control, muscle memory, the subtleties of the strokes.  

In some sense, I've always wanted to be a painter.  It's something that I've always loved and was proficient at. It was only fear that held me back. It is such an untraditional occupation. I was always ingrained with the belief that I would become a lawyer or a doctor, neither title which I had much of an affinity for. I see the world through paint. Lines, forms, and color, variations of blues, greens, and yellow. When I look at someone's face while I'm talking to them, I start to break down their structural features and think about how it would appear on canvas. 

For most of the work week, I am in my studio.  Sometimes, I won't speak to a single person for the entire time. Just me, the dog, and music.  I might say hello to the barista or the cashier at the market. And really I don't mind so much, it bodes well with my usual antisocial habits.  Like many other kids, I started out trying to replicate comics. Particularly Wolverine of the X-Men because he was badass. You don't see people trying to make a film about sissyboy Cyclops. 

I consider myself tremendously lucky to be chasing this dream. I'm still extremely flattered when people like my stuff. I have to give a shout out to all the friends who have been there from day one, supporting my shit. And the only real thing left to do is to keep painting and upping the skills and the paper stack. To paraphrase Krink owner Craig "KR" Costello "Getting props is a young man's game, I'm about making making money and supporting a family." And I couldn't really say it any better than that. 

I've always done art of some sort throughout my life. I used to paint dog portraits back in college. I had a few pet stores that had me on commission for my pieces, but it was still a side thing just as a hobby. I love being in the studio. The toxic mix of spray paint and oils, a cup of coffee and my pack of cigarettes. My mom bought me a box of gas masks and I think it is a good idea to use them in the long run. Losing track of the hours and forgetting about the world, the hunger in my stomach because there is another hunger that has taken its place.  It drives deeper and yearns harder to be heard and satiated. 

I'm new to the game, but the goal is to keep pushing forward. To go past the pain and the doubt and the insecurity because there really are no other options.