fake moustaches

Well, Mondo didn't take the throne during the project runway finale, but he still managed to coalesce quite the following:

in line at customs

a trip to the american legion

which i never really knew existed.

holy apocalypse

as in, bitches love to dance.

Thoth-alicious

Meet Thoth.
Subject of a recent portrait shoot. We traded a psychic reading and chakra allignment for a photo shoot.
Thoth was subject to a poisonous spider bite ten years ago, and still suffers dire consequences. The morning of our photo shoot marked a first for Thoth--he had all the symptoms of a resurfacing of the subclinical infection flare-up, caused by the bite. These symptoms have, in the past, always warranted a hospital visit. Today, the flare-up started, and went away, allowing us to still conduct our portrait session. Notably, it had been years and years since Thoth had his portrait made. During our shoot, Thoth and I talked a lot about death and release, as my hypochondria and fears of death have been rearing their head lately--I am working to accept death as an integral part of life. Perhaps we both helped each other that day on some level. The setting of the burned down forest accentuates this theme. Our location was the site of the 4-mile canyon fires that raged earlier this fall. The bus that you see in some of the images was a camp school bus melted by the fires. Here are some notable shots.

studies

been reassessing my natural tendencies in composition with inanimate studies.

here are some results.

If Miro and Mondrian birthed a digital photograph in my kitchen.

some sort of Magritian planet

Last night.

Last night, at the Zombie Burlesque. I like the bxw

anonymity

One of the most important functions as artists is to remain anonymous in the scheme of our pervasive bodies of work. This mirrors our reality as human beings in the scheme of time: we are as integrated, as futile as vast as our imagination of infinity. This notion constantly reinforces itself, as I have been embarking on late-night walks through alley ways. I am not interested in any sort of sociological study derived from the trash in alleys, more, I am interested in the anonymity and humility that presents itself in these night time scenes. I am also searching for symbols of deconstructed American identity (ie broken lamp post) and of course, visual irony (trash in the ocean-themed child's pool).