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I know the price tag on original art can feel out of reach—but money isn’t all I care about. If you’ve been a long-time supporter or feel a deep connection to a piece, but can’t swing the listed price, reach out. I'm open to trades for goods or services (tattoos? skills? weird shit? let’s talk), or working something out that honors both your budget and the time and soul I put into this. I’d rather my work live with people who get it than collect dust. Let’s support each other outside the system.
Materials: 16" x 19" stretched canvas Acrylic paint Graffiti mop Acrylic marker Heavy acrylic paint mixed with pink glow-in-the-dark powder…
Materials:
16" x 19" stretched canvas
Acrylic paint
Graffiti mop
Acrylic marker
Heavy acrylic paint mixed with pink glow-in-the-dark powder
Mirror chrome paint
Iridescent rainbow topcoat
Resin mixed with blue glow-in-the-dark powder Black India ink
Gel medium mixed with yellow glow-in-the-dark powder
'DICHOTOMY?! reconcile.' (c. 2022) is a mixed medium piece that I feel hasn't gotten as much love as my other works, which only makes me appreciate it more. To me, it represents an instance where my ambition didn't translate to canvas quite in the way I'd hoped. After painstakingly painting the hands reaching up from the abyss with glow in the dark barnacles, I coated the painting in resin and mixed in black India ink to give the darkness more dimension...only for it to obscure the hands almost entirely. I'm also sad that the reflective mirror paint I used for the pupils in every eye became flashy but non-reflective because of the glow in the dark resin coating. While the iconography derived from the album artworks for Laurel Hell by Mitski and Lucifer on the Sofa by Spoon thematically makes sense, their styles juxtapose so much that the Spoon reference feels out of place. And while the images and text on the back contribute to the overall meaning of the piece, their presentation isn't ideal. It was a piece I hurried to finish, feeling I had to produce work at a faster pace or I would fall into obscurity. This, I know now, isn't true, and that rushing just to "finish" means the work will ultimately suffer for it. But I've come to respect this piece, and the lessons it's taught me - less is more; too little is unsatisfying; don't rush to meet some imaginary deadline; not every piece will be perfect or well received - I carry with me still.