Okay, this one probably needs a little explanation.
Back in 2002, I was single and desperately unhappy about it. A recent relationship had imploded and I was in a really bad place in my life. I was also feeling the pain a lot of single guys know--seeing women around that were really cool and yet were with guys that didn't seem worthy of them.
I was feeling that exquisite pain over a woman who I was just completely smitten with, but had a boyfriend who I thought was a slimy, cheesy worm. I couldn't understand how this quirky angel was involved with a guy like this. So every time I saw them, I went home feeling frustrated and angry, bewildered at what kind of man the women I was attracted to in turn found attractive: it sure as hell wasn't me.
So one night, in a fit of pique, I did this piece, one of the few (only?) times I've ever used any sort of profanity in an illustration. I imagined this amazing woman dumping said worm and finally seeing the truth--that I was worth her time. Not only worth her time, but the kind of man that would drive a woman into a sexual frenzy, so much so she would say something as porn novel-ish as what you see above.
Color and design-wise, this is a much more punk-y piece than anything I've generally done before or since, and I think that must have to do with the fractured state of mind I was in that night.
Back in 2002, I was single and desperately unhappy about it. A recent relationship had imploded and I was in a really bad place in my life. I was also feeling the pain a lot of single guys know--seeing women around that were really cool and yet were with guys that didn't seem worthy of them.
I was feeling that exquisite pain over a woman who I was just completely smitten with, but had a boyfriend who I thought was a slimy, cheesy worm. I couldn't understand how this quirky angel was involved with a guy like this. So every time I saw them, I went home feeling frustrated and angry, bewildered at what kind of man the women I was attracted to in turn found attractive: it sure as hell wasn't me.
So one night, in a fit of pique, I did this piece, one of the few (only?) times I've ever used any sort of profanity in an illustration. I imagined this amazing woman dumping said worm and finally seeing the truth--that I was worth her time. Not only worth her time, but the kind of man that would drive a woman into a sexual frenzy, so much so she would say something as porn novel-ish as what you see above.
Color and design-wise, this is a much more punk-y piece than anything I've generally done before or since, and I think that must have to do with the fractured state of mind I was in that night.
3 comments:
Well, gets the point across, I think, of what you were thinking. Intense, I guess is the word.
Great pain is always a good way to find some great art. I remember this piece well.
Joe--Yep, "intense" would cover it.
Sean--You've seen this? Wow, I don't remember that. I didn't think I ever showed this to anyone--just did it and then put it away.
This piece will probably be the closest I will ever come to pure "art" because it came from such a deeply felt place. I'm so happy that time in my life is long over.
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