Sketchbook Vol. 4 (Moleskine)

2008-2009

I lost the first version of this sketchbook. It wasn't very far along, just a few pages in, really. Long story short, I ended up running from the cops with a group of friends. They were spray-painting at an old abandoned building in Bayshore right outside of SF, and I was meandering around, drawing stuff. I've never been cool enough to spray paint much.

I went back to the spot the following day but couldn't find it. I like to think someone out there still has it, but it could have just been buried in junk, or maybe it's in an evidence room in some police station. It's the only sketchbook I have ever lost.

This restarted sketchbook maps a time of settling into my new grief-forged self. I begin my journey into being a hypochondriac. My long-time girlfriend and I finally split up. I start to populate the house I live in with my old friends. I also do psychedelics for the first time, something that has become a consistent and rewarding ritual for me. I recall a lot of panic over potential sickness, heartache, and fun over this time period.

Stylistically, things begin to merge a little more for me. Or maybe I'm just doing less observation drawing and more imaginative drawing. A lot of little sketches in these pages become finished paintings.

Materials:

Moleskine Notebook, Radiograph 3x0/.25, Parker ballpoint pen, black and red, Pentel Pocket Brush Pen, Gauche, Graphite pencil (probably 2B), colored pencils, Copic markers, vector drawings printed cut and pasted,

Above: This page includes a drawing of my hypochondriac monster, forever barfing. A rabbit lined up to be executed, which turned into a larger painting, and the feeling you get when your lightsaber is bent.

Above: This page holds an ink drawing collage of things at a cafe: a character from an abandoned collaboration, looking too old and burly, and some notes to remember about fire drills.

Above: These were both copied from a Vice photo book I acquired. Something about the over-the-top nature of the photos really appealed to me. I think there is something about humanity at its most extreme and gratuitous nature that I find fascinating.

Above: The drawing on the left turned into an oil painting. The commodification of all things is such a toxic and ubiquitous truth in our modern lives. Also, there is just something about the texture of meat and bones I love to draw. Additionally, dogs definitely have nipples.

Above: The drawing on the right is a scene from the backyard of my 20s. It had an old car seat from a van that slowly grew a fine moss over the years. I have a deep and resounding love for this backyard; it was a little haven, my favorite spot to hang with my friends and shoot the shit. Countless good times and drunken fun were had there. I also have a fascination with my insides trying to escape.

Above: No innuendo here, just a short-skirted waitress with a drippy milkshake and some well-placed cupcakes. At some point, this was going to be the cover for an album called "Dick Shake." Maybe it will emerge one day. Also, a speech bubble doodle mass. I have always had an obsession with the speech bubble as a symbol for speech. It can be bent and reimagined in so many ways. It shows up a lot in my drawings.

Above: Continuing my fascination with drawing dicks, I guess. I still think this drawing is really funny. I think these were ideas for a spoof fighting game.

Above: I drew the creature in the upper right after doing mushrooms for the first time. It somehow opened up this acceptance of sloppy looseness that I really enjoyed. I remember feeling like I could just let my hand dance around, and things would just work out. In some ways, this approach was really helpful. The ability to be tight when appropriate and loose when appropriate is a major axis in the drawing process. I think I just needed to explore that end of the spectrum at the time.

I think the figures on the right are from an idea I had for a fictional rap crew called the Mysterious High 5.

Above: A cool rockstar named Black the Riffer, if Slash and Jimi Hendrix had a baby, this is the guy. Also, two characters I used in comics for a while; the raccoon is named Ric, and the lion is Leo. They were sort of stand-ins for my friend Jason and me, representing our collective creative conversations and escapades. The first little comic was about getting physically trapped in an abstract painting. The comic sort of petered out after a few strips.

Above: This is the last page in this book. I think it's pretty self-explanatory.

I feel like I had more confidence in what I made durring this time in my life. I don't think it's anything special looking back, but I had such a belief that my art would carry me through to the place I wanted to go. I no longer have that same confidence. I do have a lot more skill and depth in what I make now. I wish more of that belief was still in me. I've been hammering away at creativity too long with only moderate results to have faith that some amazing opportunity will reveal itself to me. I really miss that feeling, though. I imagine it is, in some ways, what faith in a religion feels like. It will be okay; this thing I love will carry me to all the places I want to go. I just need to keep doing it and have faith.

Maybe art and creativity have actually done this for me I just cant see it. Nah I would probably have more instagram followers if it had.

Thanks for looking