Taken out of context but I find it so relevant.

via Alan Sepinwall’s Review of Mad Men episode ‘The Chrysanthemum and the Sword’

I’m going to paint over that thing tomorrow. Or maybe I should keep it because of how intensely depressed it makes me, like some secret weapon against myself, like a Kryptonite ring or something.

I wonder if other people make things that are so shit that it reminds them that they are one step away from flipping burgers at McDonalds. This thing is so completely fucked – three people have seen it – that is three people too many.

My time in the studio is divided into two shifts usually, 8am till 6pm and then 9pm till 3am. The day shift allows me to carry on with the menial tasks involved in art labour, drawing, emails, managing time etc. But the night is when the ideas come, they brew, as if the day was jus a sleepwalk, a zombie roleplay of reality and human day-to-day: breakfast, coffees, conversation, lunch, the movements of the sun, I care not for those things. The night is what I look forward to the most, being alone in the dark with my thoughts, but somehow I always manage to turn everything into ‘work’ anyway. Sleep could be my only recreation time, but we’ve already established I can’t seem to get any of that anyway.

James Blagden, I found an interview with him here

Jason Shawn Alexander

Mercedes Helnwein, this image is from her series East of Eden, plus she is also a writer – I DIE

Ikenaga Yasunari, site is in Japanese

Cuson, love the raw power in these digital paintings

Christina Liu, she’s only in second year of art school! Her works look like an illustrated Wong Kar Wai movie.

Nic Klein

Stanley Lau, I’m a sucker for this stuff, his version of Batgirl is awesome too

So often you read artist interviews and it is all about this-is-great, that-is-great, everything-is-great, and that’s great for them, but I’ve always found them mega dull, you never really get inside anyone’s head because they’re pre-occupied with trying not to look like some angry prick, it’s like a Miss Universe Contest. I’m not about to go out and step on anyone’s toes on this blog but I will at least be honest about my personal experience of what things are like when you are occupied with doing art 24/7, and if my posts reveal anything it is that a lot of resentment and dissatisfaction fuels what I do. This isn’t the case for most artists probably, but my motivations come from dark places a lot of the time, not dark as in coffins and bats but dark as in anger and morose.

I mean, who ever got anywhere from being completely happy and comfortable with who/where they were, right? Who knows.

Every now and then when I’m drawing I remember this one time when I had to share a cab with this friend of a friend who started dissing on the role of art in the world and why the human race even needed art. Being in art school at the time, I felt that it was my duty to educate this guy, but the worlds never really came to me, I’ve had to justify doing art to people all the time but in this case I was so taken aback I just fell silent, and I guess he thought he won by default. I’ve always hated that fucking guy.

And for some reason these smug bastards always have that misconstrued Oscar Wilde quote “All art is quite useless.” on the tips of their tongues without actually understanding the fucking context of where that line even came from. Meh.

Instead, I decided to use the ample time to explore my psyche and extract the work that I’ve always been telling myself I’ve been meaning to make. The problem with this of course, is that you never end up making it, things can always be better, you always get thirstier, and the work sitting before you satisfies you less, and there is that paranoia that others can see this too, that you haven’t quite hit the mark, but people are usually nice enough to just say “That’s cool.” or not really care at all and just drink the free booze.

What I’ve been producing in the past couple of months aren’t final, conclusive articulations of what i’ve been meaning to make, but what I believe to be a step in the right direction. It’s always going to be ongoing, like Mickey Roarke’s face, and I want it that way. I don’t want to live my life doing the same thing all the time, expecting the same thing all the time, and my work is about my life, and when it’s not fun to make, and when I know what to expect, there’s something terribly wrong. I already have ideas for what is next but if I want to get anything done right now, I have to somehow ignore the future and its glaring optimism, I have to remember what my intentions were when decided on this series, and not convolute the project and stifle myself.

For the past two months I’ve been occupying a terrifying headspace of introspective nightmares, existentialist crisis, and personal doubt. My surroundings are only reminders of earth, but my head is somewhere else entirely. If I could close the shutters on everything, routines, coffees, computers, desks, people, I wonder what kind of clarity there would be.

Once upon a time I caught trains and buses to work, read MX, cared about how the weather would affect what I’m wearing, what to eat for dinner, how much money I should save, my tax return etc. but things have taken a turn for the surreal. Now I make a living off doing what I love all day, and despite how it may seem, I am not oblivious to how big a privilege this is. I got food, I got shelter, and I get to meet people I once revered like rockstars, it is nutso.

It is part of a series, he has a walrus man, and a chicken woman, and other things…