Litho With My Bro

Robbie Cline is in Chicago for a week and I'm having a blast kicking it with him just like the old days in very new day surroundings.

Today I had a shitload of litho prints that needed to get done which meant, unfortunately, Robbie had to tag along with Steph and I as we panicked to get as much work done as humanly possible.

After a few hours, Robbie became a crucial element of the artistic process. He timed each print, forcing Steph and I to work like athletes during the most important game of our lives. Our record? Two minutes and 30 seconds. That's from plate treating to sitting the print down to dry. That's beautiful.

One thing that blew was that we didn't have an extra pair of gloves for my precious little hands. The professors insisted that we use gloves but I had no choice but to do this barehanded. What a mistake.

There is a stage in the process where you coat the plate with asphaltum liquid. This stuff looks like asphalt, smells like asphalt and feels like asphalt. Essentially, it's road in a bottle.

I found out the hard way that getting street all over your hands is nearly impossible to tolerate and even harder to clean off.

Still, six hours later the prints came out nicely.

My hands still smell like Delancey street on a hot day. Blech.

This is How it Starts

I have been trying to get back on the wagon but things are making that a little bit difficult for me. There's a buttload of stuff going on these days that I don't want to get into here but I can admit that due to said things, blogging has been the absolute last thing on my mind. I have been doing a little growing up and thinking some seriously heavy (and seriously consuming) thoughts. Maybe I might get into things later.

Till' then, let's see if I can get the pendulum swinging like the old days.

Since I'm sure all of you are sick of seeing the last post over and over again I thought I would give you an update. Ta da! The prints are done.

It's a series of four. I'm a total schmuck and can't get a solid print as easily as everyone else. In other words, for every dude you see on that table there were about four or five fuck ups. My batting average isn't too hot but I still find a way to win the game. That's all that matters, I think (note: if any of you sports fans can think of a good real life comparison, help me out in the comments. I'm drawing a blank).

Now that those etchings are done we have moved onto more serious, big boy things. I started a lithograph yesterday and of course, started drawing an idiot.

I gotta' get over those things. I wanted to play it safe while I learn the medium but I'm getting bored with those fools. Hopefully I can spice it up a bit with this gal.

Lithography is pretty crazy, in fact, check this shit out for yourself. There are some pretty ridiculous things involved, like the fact that at no point can any of your skin touch the surface you are drawing on. Try that right now. Hard, eh?

We aren't using stones which sort of sucks but in the long run is better as it gives me one less thing to fuck up consistently.

Thanks for checking even when K-Dog Zillionaire is AWOL. I hope to get back on all of your bookmark bars soon.

There is Hope...

I signed up for an intro to printmaking class this semester and almost immediately couldn't help but wonder if it was a wise decision. I thought it would mostly take place on photoshop and a silkscreen (like my last print media class) but found out that it's much more artsy than that. Woodblocks? Lithography? I can't make an image with a pointy object and a piece of plywood! After fiddling around for a little while I realized that I did indeed have a difficult task ahead of me.

Can you say fail? I could.

Today I was getting more and more worried and as my woodblock stared back at me, equally uncomfortable with the prospect of me holding a v-gouge, I felt bad for the idiot.

Then something magical happened. I tossed some ink on him and rubbed out a few tests on doo-doo brown paper. Even in his most shitty form I couldn't believe how cool this guy looked.

Was this coming together? Is it possible? Maybe I can get this shit done. Can an idiot possibly live a life on a piece of wood? Well, I think the answer is yes. What do I want to do now? Make more.

I got bit by the print bug, baby.

More Dust

Today was my photo critique and things went pretty damn well. Now that I got responses to this series I feel good sharing the rest with you. 

I might re-do this in a studio next semester and really get it right. We'll see.

 

Dusty

Tonight I worked on a project I have been wanting to do for a long while. It's not as successful as I'd like it to be so I hope when I get critiqued on this series people give me some good advice. Long story short: I had to get pretty messy.

The idea came to me a few months ago when I read that a lot of New Yorkers still have little dust particles from 9/11 stuck to the sides of their lungs. It's really no big deal, we have a lot of shit in our lungs, especially those of us who live in urban environments. Still, the idea of carrying pieces of The World Trade Center with us physically has some serious parallels to our emotional luggage. 

Right now it's about 15 photos of individuals doing normal, everyday tasks while completely covered in dust, dried blood and soot. 

I'm going to wait until I get a crituqe on these suckers before sharing them with you. 

Putting that shit on myself was strange. When I first looked in the mirror I froze for a few minutes and felt very odd. It felt disgusting. It made me realize how lucky I was to be safe on that day. It also made me realize how horrible people must have felt after getting home and standing in the shower for a few hours trying to get cement out of their hair while still thinking about what happened. 

Yeesh.

Corn Cob Of Shit

My Zines have been printed and they look beautiful, sleek and sexy. 

I got 50 of the things and they turned out exactly how I wanted. They are pretty fucking funny and I can't wait till' people read them.

Each is numbered because that's what artists do. Some will be sold at Quimby's Bookstore and the rest will be given out to my closest bros and bras. 

New Zine

Holy cow am I busy. So busy that this blog seems to have gone on a unofficial hiatus. I have a lot of shit to do for a lot of classes but in two weeks I'll be free as a bird flying around the island of Manhattan. 

Tonight I'm working on a new Zine. The idea behind this one is to, essentially, write my four most horrifyingly embarrassing stories and make them public. It's pretty fucking funny and I think it's going to work out pretty well. I'll share the cover with you folks:

The title makes sense once you read it, I promise. Tomorrow I drop her off to get printed and I should be sitting on 50 copies in two days. I'll sell some at Quimby's for let's say, seventy five cents. The rest go to folks like you (if you want em').

Vanitas? Check.

After the shower photos were received well by my class (which was a first. For the entire semester I was putting up shit on the walls, it was looking grim...) I was assigned a project by the professors based on my work thus far. 

The conclusion we came to was something vaguely along these lines: I sucked at still life photography. I rocked at self posed scenes. How about I do both?

The assignment I was given was to take a photograph of a Vanitas still life while including myself in the frame. This concept challenged me immediately, which was exciting. After doing some thought I came to a simple, funny solution. 

In most Vanitas paintings there is a skull or two staring out of frame. I figured rather than have a skull how about having my own head on a table? Then, instead of fruits and feathers and shit, how about fluorescent toys and trinkets? Sounds perfect. Too perfect. 

For the life of me, I couldn't get it to work. Tables fell over, you could see the slit of the cloth I was sticking my head through and the shutter of the camera would go off too soon. This image, in variation, is what I got. I could never get my head through so it instead looked like a crowning baby with a full set of hair:

Defeat. Long story short, I was fucked. No idea, no time and no motivation. I sat on the futon staring into space and said out loud:

"Fuck Vanitas. Who gives a shit?"

And that's when it hit me. How funny would a photo be of some dumbass, schmuck of an art student who made a shitty Vanitas out of crap laying around his apartment? Even better, what if we could see him celebrating the fact he just created an arrangement that (in theory) allowed him to acknowledge, accept and celebrate his own demise? Celebrating by, let's say, getting drunk in his underwear while watching TV?

Perfect. 

I'm so proud of the humor in these. From the sticker on the orange to the fish tank skull, it seeps of "last minute art school" and has a real, bonified fartist in action.

Fact or Fiction?

There really hasn't been much to post about recently and you all know my philosophy: if it feels forced, don't force it. 

That philosophy is swell and fine until you have a few days in a row with nothing posted. I like Cop Killer, I really do, but I don't like it enough to see it every time I load this page.

Most of my classes are taking it easy considering we just had our midterms. That means I haven't churned anything out worth talking about. I have, however, began looking at classes and found one that really interests me.

It's a video studio called "Bordering Fiction" that explores documentary and television blurring the line between reality and falsehoods. This sounds simple, but it's sort of a calling for me. You see over the past few years I have began forming in my head what sort of films I want to make. It is the sort of film I did make. Remember these?

Hell, in a strange way, even the gun reviews do it. I know that this is usually referred to as a "Mockumentary Film" but I don't like that term. For one reason, it's not mocking documentary style. It is documentary style. I would love to make a film that perfectly replicates how a factual documentary would be shot. Flawlessly. Another reason I don't like that is it seems goofy. What if I want to do this about something serious? Something heavy? Would that be accepted as OK like these two films are or is that just packaging a lie as something else to cut corners? Who knows. 

About a year ago this thought was kicking around my head. I was starting my first year at Fart School and thoughts like this were encouraged. It was a great environment to ask myself: how could I do that without having to make a documentary? 

I have never been good at directing actors. It's not something I want to do and couldn't if I tried (ask anyone who was on the set of our last film). A few films ago, however, something clicked. Thinking about that blur between what was happening in the film and what was happening in real life, I would ask actors questions that were (in a basic way) relevant in their own life and the life of their characters. 

When they were deep in the conversation, I'd call action and they would have to turn on whatever character they were acting immediately. It works beautifully. It takes skill on both ends but I think it works out very well. It's not a new idea but I had never tried it. It worked well.

Point is, this class should help me formulate exactly what to call this. Point me in the direction of other artists who do this better. It should allow me to practice this some more until I really get it down. I cannot wait.

Falling in the Shower

I got a really good critique on the photos I mentioned in my last post. So good, in fact, that some of them didn't even need exposed weenies to effect the viewer. That's good for you because it means a) you don't have to see my exposed weenie and b) you get to see them. 

Like every good art student I did a reversed reference to David's Death of Marat. How Neo-Neo Classic:

This was a fun shoot and it's the first time I have put something up on the wall during a crit that I didn't think was garbage. Essentially, what we talked about in class is that there are two types of photographers: hunters and farmers. 

I am not a hunter. I grow my own shit. Still, I have a hunter mentality that kicks in by storing images in my head through experience, film, literature and other art. It's good stuff and it's a huge breakthrough. I always looked at photographers (at least in the art world) as hunters and said to myself "That's no place for me"

Boy was I wrong. I loved doing this. It's not a new idea to be a farmer but to me it is.  I can't wait to plant some more crops.

Ad Camo

I had to make a digital collage. Everyone knows I love using logos in my work. They are easy to alter, abundant and come with all the luggage pre-attached.

That's why I made this awesome "Logo Camo" piece. I'm picking up the 30x20 inch print tomorrow and can't wait to hang it above my desk.

Blogger is acting up and won't upload pictures. I had to use photobucket which doesn't scale them to the computer screen. If I were you, I'd click on the above image for the full effect.

-Kdog

Wronng

I need help. Today I took the opening line from "The Day Of The Triffids" and decided to make it a big ol' gel transfer. It came out pretty dope and I was very satisfied. It goes:

"When a day you happen to know is Wednesday

starts off by sounding line a Sunday, 

there is something seriously wrong

somewhere"

Pretty amazing, huh? Like I said, it came out pretty dope:

Looks pretty good, right? I showed it to my TA and he pointed out a soul crushing detail. There is something seriously wrong somewhere. Can you find it?

I spelt "wrong" incorrectly. Sure, that sucks. Then I realized, wait, is that awesome? Could this mistake be a high concept piece of ironic genius? 

I don't know. You tell me.

Kirk's Wood

Last Saturday one of my classes did alcohol gel transfers. It's a pretty easy and nifty way to do a print because all you need is clear, emulsion coated paper (which is pretty cheap), a printer and some hand sanitizer. Essentially (from what I understand) the alcohol in the hand sanitizer breaks down the ink on the transfer sheet and voila, you have a print. 

We were supposed to do things in a similar series so I got some images of those who boldly went where no man had gone before. I brought home two that I didn't think were quite good enough to make critique but fun enough to hang on a wall back the pad.

Here is the Captain himself on a big ol' piece of plywood.

Here, the boys have their phasers set to kill.

I like these.

Wednesday night art fart

I felt like making something today but didn't feel like drawing, writing or filming anything. I have a shit load of paints I bought last year as an investment for times like these and I whipped them out. 

I decided to attempt painting a Triffid. I'm a terrible painter but thought maybe tonight would be different. 

Guess what?

Tonight wasn't different. 

I failed miserably at rendering a triffid. I painted over it and tried again. Fail. Then again. Major fail. After a thick layer of paint was covering my precious triffids I took my palette and tossed it on the canvas saying "fuck this I prefer the paint bucket tool in photoshop"

I pulled the palette off and liked what I saw. I put more paint on it here and there and tried my best attempt at a flattened Pollock. How's that Ezra?

Here's the big question. Which would go in the Museum? The piece?

Or the palette?

You decide. I vote palette because it would piss people off. More realistically, I think I'll be using this piece as a gigantic coaster.

TATTOOS

Today I did my first test of the Hive tattoos. Shockingly, I didn't botch the job (which was actually really complicated. I thought all you had to do was print them but you also need to cover each image with a thin layer of adhesive and leave em' out to dry over night).

In fact, I would say the test was a full success.

Here's a closer look:

There will be a total of ten sheets each with 15 hives. There are going to be 40 people at the critique so I should have more than enough. 

Paired with the beautiful prints I framed (posted a few days ago) I think this piece is really going to come together. 

God, I love it when that happens.

Farting Art

As I have opened nearly 90% of every post with this month: "Since the semester is wrapping up I have a lot of work to do!"

There I said it again. Sorry.

As the semester winds down I only have three big, big, big projects left. The Hives (which, are coming out awesome), the one I started today and a film which I have to write tonight and shoot this weekend.

What I started today is pretty fun. I decided to do my final for my research class about the one thing I have researched pretty thoroughly so half the work is done already. Dreams.

I have over an hour of those dream logs and I listened to them today and wrote down characters that stuck out to me. I'm going to draw them, frame them beautifully and then throw another element into the equation. You know, to take it to the next level. 

Here is the first one. A Cop who I encountered a few weeks ago and he was giving me shit. It was sort of a nightmare but then the wind blew and his hat flew off and he went after it. I ran home.

Also I printed the hives on some nice friggin' paper and framed em'. There are 15 but 12 in this photo. I absolutely love how they are coming out. This week I print that tattoos and then booyah I got me some nice art.

That's it, sugar.

Itchy and scratchy

One little secret you may not know about me is that I have some strange immune deficiency which results in red, bumpy, itchy hives. They come whenever my body temperature gets a little to hot to handle. That means stress, showers, sun and apparently even sleep leave me covered in tiny imperfections that remind myself that my insides aren't ticking right. 

It doesn't bother me that much. Rarely do they spread above the neck so unless I take my shirt off I'm safe from public scrutiny. I never take my shirt off so to most regular people I'm just a hiveless boy with an immune system of steel.

Recently they have been hitting me hard. I was stressed out about it but then a godsend occured. 

Remember the Barack Obama Chia Pet? Well, a few days ago I was changing his water and spilled a chia-seed/slime solution all over my DVDs. There was only one out of the case: "Freaks" by Todd Browning. I popped her in to assess whether or not I had to buy another copy. She worked fine and as predicted I ended up sitting on the edge of my bed, covered in hives watching the film (again) start to finish.

That's when it hit me. My hives are beautiful. I'd get into it but it's complicated.

It prompted me to start a new endeavour. Every day I pick one hive. Scan it. Draw it. From there I will have a collection of hopefully hundreds. What I do with them once I reach that point is unknown. Maybe temporary tattoos, maybe blow em up and put em' on a grid in order of color/date/shape. Who knows.

Here's a taste, starlets.