Exhibit 39

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Begin excerpt:
 Red lights abound,
 A flickering side-show masking cute frowns,
 Dressed up all pretty;
 just want to be found.
 Empty glasses accenting nothing
 but young blood craving something; more than this nothing. 
  
 Things seems good,
 potentially normal.
 He wants to chat,
 thinks I’m immoral.
  
 I tell him to fuck off.
 Moods seem dampened,
 But I bite back the tears.
  
 Because after all;
 it was just a compliment, nothing weird.
 At least that’s what my best friend seemed to think.
  
 But how does that make me a slut when all I did was let him know you exist?
  
  
 Hours later the bars all closed.
 My spirits had lifted; I suppose.
  
 Said my farewell and let her drive; away.
  
 because she was always more poised than I…
 …thought I could be.
  
 Can’t question that, because it’s easier just to trust she’s got your back. And if she has my back, I’m sure she has her own…you can’t defend another if you’re all exposed. Can you?
 And if I can’t honestly say I have my own, then who’s got her back? Because I clearly don’t…since I’m the bitch who let her drive away; all fucked up on oxy cut with glaze.
  
 Too late now,
 I say to myself;
 Walking down the street,
 On my way to the house.
  
 Few minutes later,
 phone makes a ding,
 weights all seem lifted,
 when she says she’s home safe.
  
 And that makes one. I thought to myself, eyeing that same shadow across the way. It belongs to the creep that I’d kept at bay. But now it’s all dark, and I’m not feeling sure…that I could do it again. Alone. Here.
 He probably lives on campus, probably not a bad guy. Just a little pushy when hyped up on rye. The rhyming is lazy when I’m all worked up. Thing’s don’t quite flow and we all know what they serve at bars. I could try and rhyme alcohol for you but I don’t think it would matter, in communicating this learned fucking reflex that causes me to cower…when I see a man. When I don’t know what he’s doing over there.
  
 Across the way.
  
 I’m sure it’s nothing. That little flash every thirty seconds is probably his phone.
 Still; my hand is on that whistle…the best gag gift I ever got.
  
 And I’m sending this message because I just want you to know, that I don’t feel quite right being alone…right now. And maybe the drugs just cloud up my mind, maybe his shadow is nothing but kind, but maybe I don’t feel like he’s reassured me of that the way he touched me without asking.
 So, I’ll send you a text in a minute or two,
 When I walk through that door we’ll know I was a fool,
 for shivering and quivering in these fucking high heels,
 hoping to God he isn’t the kind of tool,
 who likes my false advertisement; because as far as I’m concerned my light belongs to you.
  
 So try not to worry,
 I’ll be home in a fetf–
  
 -Excerpt from exhibit 39, sent in the early hours of June 11th, moments before the incident took place. 

Prosthetic – Painting + Tshirt

I like how this one turned out. I wanted the cyborg/robot to appear somewhat damaged and unsure of itself. I think that was captured with some of the erratic shading and effects. I wanted less explicit detail as well, so a lot of the parts are suggested. I kept the color pallet simple so it would look more like splashes of paint or brands then the actual color of the android.

pretty4.png

I put a lot of work in making the frame. I’m not very good at frames but I recognize how important they are for T-shirts. A lot of my work is too complicated to put on a shirt and the frame helps simplify it so it can be printed on different colors of shirts.

Capture

 

Cheers,

Blu

Is Digital Art Cheating? – an actual blog post since I guess I have a blog that I don’t blog on and should fix that

I was at a party where many art majors were present last night.

I tend to sit in a corner and hangout with the person who invited me at these sorts of gatherings since I don’t drink. There was a lively debate running at a table I was near, and it caught my attention. There was a man arguing that digital art took literally no skill and that while it may take some time to learn the tools, was essentially the technician version of being a radiologist (technician is a good job, so he was already off base with the analogy).

So me and my friend both took issue with this and told him so. He kinda laughed because I guess I don’t look all that cool. Now I mean my main qualm was his assertion that someone couldn’t be both a digital artist and someone who could use a pencil. Now I use pens, which have a reputation for being significantly less wieldy than pencils (look ma, no eraser). So I told him that I do digital art and think I can also illustrate semi-competently.

Do I consider myself a professional or expert? No, absolutely not, and I hope I never think I’m an expert because that’s when you have hit your cap. I don’t ever wanna stop learning or improving because that progress is what drives me to make art in the first place. But do I think I can draw most things I’d want to? Yeah, I could attempt it and do an alright job probably. But it’s all practice.

So he told me to prove it, and I’m like “okay”.

I showed him this, which is multimedia, granted, but the digital and traditional portions are distinct. It was a traditional drawing that I later redid the background in illustrator.

Hunger Demon7

His response: “Pfft, that’s low art.”

My friend flipped on him there, asked him to share his high art. I was already uncomfortable with his insult, because I worked hard on this and never intended to sell it because it was art for something personal, which I think is what art should be for. It was the fourth drawing I did when I started drawing again early last year during a very difficult time in my life. This piece meant something to me, and art should mean something to you when you make it. This piece depicts bulimia nervosa and OCD which are both worth depicting, because they are brutal disorders.

If you really think you can honestly look at any drawing or piece of art and determine in five seconds whether or not it is low (has no meaning or minimal low-brow value/appeal) or high (has meaning and value), then you don’t know how art works.

So, he showed us a picture from a gallery of a large painting with an abstract horse thing as the subject. And it was good, in my opinion. I’m a sucker for abstract and impressionism. I told him I liked it and he seemed kinda self satisfied and my friend looked at me like what’s wrong with you. But I wasn’t gonna lie and say I didn’t like it to be bitter, I mean then I’d be like him; toxic.

Anyway. I left with her pretty quick after that, didn’t want to be around the negativity I’d associated with the room and party. I felt kind of bad until I thought about it more and realized that his attitude will ultimately prevent him from learning and getting better and that’s what’s sad…That he needs to shit on other peoples hard work and throw around “low art” when he doesn’t even understand the context of something.

 

I thought about the question more and here’s my answer:

I don’t think either is better, I think they are different and similar, but one is not better or a “lower” form of art. Traditional is hard because you don’t have a perfect eraser or perfect paper that never breaks. It’s easier to add than take away. This limitation is ninety-nine% mitigated in digital art, but now you have to either drop two-thousand on a flagship cintiq or struggle to draw lines with a mouse or low quality tablet. TABLET DRAWING IS SO HARD THAT I DRAW WITH A MOUSE.

Yes, I draw with a mouse and attempt to draw lines with a mouse. This is part of what makes digital art challenging, the images are not auto generated, you still have to make these things. And when you’re using composites it’s a whole different beast to blend disparate images together, it’s heavier and hard shading to do that than to draw a face in my experience.

But I love both because they look different and are unique. I can’t draw something that looks traditional in Photoshop and I can’t draw hyper-realism on traditional mediums. (I can composite backgrounds in after scanning via multimedia techniques though).

I feel like art is up against enough when we artists aren’t trying to eat up each others confidence, you know?

 

 

Cheers,

Blu

Cynic 27.

The stars are mostly dead, even if you still see them. What good can be found in lies?

To me, this relies on one question. As long as we can still see them, are they real to us? If what we see isn’t always reality, then it is our reality. Maybe there are worse things. Maybe the truth has a way of hurting us more than our eyes would abide.

Dunno.

Blood-Hound (Poem + Drawing)

Blood Hound   —–>PDF with proper formatting, manuscript below. 

 

Blood-hound

________
I’ll be your sick-bird,
you be my blood-hound,
My hearts in your mouth,
Breaking neck spins round.
But,
You’re not the one to blame,
You see; I can’t complain,
This is all you’ve known.
Blackened bloody mold,
Just doing what you’re told.

Your love was a warhead,
A straight time-bomb,
You taught me this lesson,
That I ain’t so strong.
Take your pound of flesh,
Don’t matter if it’s right,
Hit me while I’m fresh,
You know I’ll never fight,
As long as you let me,
Love you more than this life.

So here’s to that jaw,
Tightening ‘round me,
I’m just your dead-bird,
So be my blood-hound,
‘Cause baby,
You’re the one with teeth.
And all I am is meat.

_______________

7×11 cut watercolor, Pen and marker. Edited fox