twenty o' nine end
i am decidedly in love with La Catrina Mexican Food. its a truck that is sitting in a parking lot across from a Seven-Eleven, the menu has all sorts of sloppy dirty quick dishes. i prefer the asada burrito, with the spicy green sauce soaking through it. its a million degrees and the best burrito you can get for 5 bucks. five dollars is enough to fill you up, i like the idea of that. the rain comes down in waves of soft static noise, its peaceful. the world is a harmless easy-going grey. a muddled blend of hues being washed out by soggy weather.
i walk across east portland, not the trendy fun parts, but the long stretches of sidewalks in front of car dealerships and fast food restaurants. my long legs making great strides with finely honed economy and efficiency. i am comfortable in my transportation, in that i do not fear distances and roads. a truck speeds by and swerves towards the curb to intentionally drive through a large puddle of water, i tidal wave comes over me and soaks me with frigid dirty water. the truck speeds off and i wave middle fingers at the sum-bitches.
i wonder how many more times i will walk down that road, a strip i walked nearly every day for about eight months. to and from work, its only a twelve minute commute, maybe eight if its cold and i feel the coldness, but most of the time i saunter with an even gait without any great deal of sloth or haste. i am a confident more so lately, i have been happy and content with myself and who i am.
Faryn surprises me on December 23rd with a box which contains a sheet of paper and an appointment for a tattoo for the next day on dec 24th. she's pretty amazing in that this idea has permeated my life for the last half decade and she is the one to bring my ideas to fruition.
the next day we wake up early and i shower and begin drinking shots of gin. i am told that gin is not to be taken in shots, but rather to be sipped, but the quicker i have to taste hard alcohol the better, so i prefer shots. we arrive at Robot Tattoo , a body shop aimed towards nerds. there are japanese toys of bipedal robots lining the shelves, the illustrations and sketches for tattoos aren't all too impressive, but i enjoy all the employees and their candor and friendliness. there isn't a lot of business going on for the day, so faryn and i are basically the main customers and center of attention. the employees bought a case of weapons from a magazine and were playing with them before we arrived, the tattoo artist who was scheduled to work on me nearly cut off his index finger with a machete. the wound is deep and is glowing bright red with fresh exposed meat. he glues himself together and piles on some gloves. i lay on the table and Faryn holds my hand for support. the process isnt at all as bad as i prepared myself for, i could feel it, and there was a degree of pain, but it was easy to dismiss as an annoyance rather than an unpleasant feeling. other than a few piss breaks i am on the table for roughly six hours. i get three boxes on my right arm.
the three boxes are something which have been in my mind for awhile, everyone keeps asking about them, and i really dont have a 'story' for them. everyone wants a story, some reason and explanation, as though it needs to represent some part of my life that they want to learn about or identify with. squares are squares, i like them, they are so balanced. at no point in my life will i go through a 'fuck squares' phase and regret the tattoo. there is a great history of symbolical reference to the theory of repetition that three of the same item that the squares can represent, but i dont like getting into all of that. i tell people its a graphical art thing, and they don't understand, but they act like they understand as though it makes sense.
may 13th 2009: (in response to a question about the squares)
ive encountered it on about a half dozen girls now (i have a folder dedicated to photos of squares on my PC). i'm not sure where i first saw it or on whom. back in 2003 i was drawing 4 squares, and liked the appeal of three after i saw it as a tattoo. the models themselves which i use are not really the focus or inspiration, but more of a vessel to house the message. things such as their experiences and fame their politics hobbies and personality do not affect the art, and for now i would like to remain detached from having such issues present in the work. if this girl were my close friend or a complete stranger it would not affect the end result.
kev offered some suggestions of its potential meaning in this thread. it is something i am going to continue to study, as i think it has a very base and diverse iconographic feel.
at its very core the symbols of squares are about a transition. the whole of my work is about love and relationships. relationships of gender, contrast, texture, value, etc. the transitional aspect of the square symbols helps act as a passage between the stagnant surface qualities and the more expressive and fleeting strokes and marks.
beautiful girls will always be in style. the definition of beauty may change throughout time but the idea of allure and captivation will remain. the way in which the subject is presented is reflected on the artist. splatters represent chaos and uncertainty, not being able to control aspects of the figure. shakey lines are personal insecurities and the inability to engage directly with the figure. the lack of color is the absense of love, it is rejection. the limited palette reflects bleakness in a very literal sense. the hatching is an angry gradation, short terse marks that are not subtle and smooth. the ink is the blood, it is the structure, a liquid that breathes life into an empty area.
the squares are the arbiter of my ideas, which are pasted onto nearly all of my figures. they do not always intend to represent the girls who do have the squares, but contain the stylistic idea of the girls i draw. in a way i have taken the squares away from the models and given it a new identity to describe any figure going through a transition. its a badge that is an ephemeral statement, it doesnt matter where you've been or where you are going, its about the 'now' aspect i try to contain within the symbol. each square could then be taken to represent past, present, and future.
the squares do not belong to anyone, they belong to a universal identity of sorts. anyone can wear the squares, and they can adopt the idea of the transitional journey. the squares are the time and movement of relationships, closer or drifting. rejection and acceptance. something has to act as the middleground between such dualities of relationships, the squares are that passage.
i am trying to capture and entail aspects of my own life in my work as means of making sense of the world around me. i am only interested in documenting a contemporary world, and filtering it through my past to see if i can predict the future. i want to arrange peices together and hopefully start to have some foresight into where it is going. the squares help to depict this... to me. its more than just 'oooh thats a neat tattoo, i'll draw that a bunch', and i hope to stay from that perception. i have given this a lot of thought for the past six years, as it is my main motif.
■ ■ ■
after the tattoo finishes we stand out on the street and kiss for awhile and i dont know exactly how i feel, its a strange mix of pride and profound happiness. i want time to go away and to have my past dissolve, the future doesnt matter, the exact moment is everything...and everything is alright in the world, in my world. i am immune to pain and anger. there are no haunting depressing thoughts in the back of my mind about losing her or the daily arguments and worries. in the moment i know that life is okay, and i'm doing something right at least.
christmas day is spent alone with Faryn. we have a simple day and everything is peaceful, perhaps too silent at times. we spend most of the day trying to get groceries and failing at finding a store that is open, then we shift our focus towards restaurants. i call and ask if i can get reservations and get told we might be able to sit at the bar for dinner. we drink a bit and head over to Jake's Grill in downtown southwest portland. i ask for a table for two and they find one for us. the place is packed, its one of about five places in portland that is open, its loud and energetic in a good way, everywhere you look everyone has a smile on their face, really a warm environment. the restaurant is fairly fancy, i'm wearing an air force shirt and black tie, she's wearing a bright floral dress. i go through all the right motions, or the motions i feel are right to do. the appetizer is an entertaining martini glass full of shrimp, oysters and shredded crab. on top is a crawdad boiled to bright red perfection in his entirety posing aloft his fishy martini pile. dinner was a turkey dinner which was perfect, just fucking amazing at every corner of the plate. i sip beers and faryn tries fruity hard alcohol drinks. a woman approaches me after the meal and whispers into my ear "i think you two are just adorable, i saw the way you stood for her when she sat at the table, my husband still does that for me, i hope things liek that never go away" i blush and smile upon hearing this.
the next few days are spent in conversation, worry about rent and roommates, and as the day grows old: getting fucked up. we had a wonderful small get together in the apartment the day before new year's eve. it's good to have so much laughter in the apartment.
for the duration of new year's eve i was fairly silent and pensive. i really milked the last year and though about where i stood at the end of 2008 and where i am now. in many ways i took great leaps forward. when 2008 ended i was worried about my grade sin school and about getting kicked out. i was paranoid about isolation and the majority of my life was spend online in deep debate wielding heavy words trying to hone my ability to articulate art theories and ideas. i went back to WOU and finished school. i lived in monmouth and tried to get a job and failed, my parents were mad at me for all the money i had to bum off of them to cover my bills. i lived at home for February and march, i did situps and pushups in vain attempt to break myself down physically and to try to get sleep.... or some form of rest with the looming threat of student loans over my head. i had no clue what i was going to do. i lived in portland in a eight foot by six foot closet for four months. i got a job in portland after a month. i began having income and the ability to handle my own loans, bills, and rent. i fell into routine working there and the cycle started to break in September when Faryn started calling me at night, nearly every night for a month she'd call between 11pm and 6am to check up on me and have short conversations about portland adventures hinting at the fact that we should be having them together. after five years of talking to each other online we met on october 1st. we started dating about two weeks later. its been exhausting and refreshing, horrid and inspirational, rough and smooth. we met at a really strange time when things were erratic, and somehow our helpless devotion to each other has endured a lot of drama and intensity. i love this girl, i must be a better person as a result of knowing her. the last few months have been somewhat documented leading up towards the end of the year.
i sat silently on the couch of her apartment milking over everything and realizing i still have a long way to go. an increasing amount of temporary problems are still looming over me. i had a panic attack on new year's eve and couldn't control my breathing. i sat on the floor and cried knowing full well how young and unable to be responsible i still am. the clock hits midnight and Faryn kisses me and i tell her in full honesty that i will not be weak anymore. everyone in my life is still angry at me for one reason or another, i'm not doing to good at juggling responsibilities. my shit is all apart.
hello 2010.
we head down to her parent's house after watching Sunshine Cleaning and Gigantic. both of which i enjoyed. i was enthralled by every minuscule aspect of her town and house.i felt comfortable and genuinely invited. the food was stellar, really top notch, i adore her family and the world she comes from. my being there seemed natural and non-intrusive.
i walked into the officemax in the pearl district and introduced myself, i shook hands with the store manager and told them who i was. faryn drives me to the bustop and before the bus arrives i get a call for an interview. it'll be nice to work in the pearl district. i am confident that i'll get a position there. the pearl district is the expensive upscale hotspot of activity in portland. its all art galleries and fancy-schmancy restaurants and offices. the location is ideal for art, its the most prolific visual art centered area of oregon (save theater in ashland possibly).
we are having meatloaf for dinner and i must stop typing now to go enjoy it.
the secret ingredient is love....and cilantro.
-joe
i walk across east portland, not the trendy fun parts, but the long stretches of sidewalks in front of car dealerships and fast food restaurants. my long legs making great strides with finely honed economy and efficiency. i am comfortable in my transportation, in that i do not fear distances and roads. a truck speeds by and swerves towards the curb to intentionally drive through a large puddle of water, i tidal wave comes over me and soaks me with frigid dirty water. the truck speeds off and i wave middle fingers at the sum-bitches.
i wonder how many more times i will walk down that road, a strip i walked nearly every day for about eight months. to and from work, its only a twelve minute commute, maybe eight if its cold and i feel the coldness, but most of the time i saunter with an even gait without any great deal of sloth or haste. i am a confident more so lately, i have been happy and content with myself and who i am.
Faryn surprises me on December 23rd with a box which contains a sheet of paper and an appointment for a tattoo for the next day on dec 24th. she's pretty amazing in that this idea has permeated my life for the last half decade and she is the one to bring my ideas to fruition.
the next day we wake up early and i shower and begin drinking shots of gin. i am told that gin is not to be taken in shots, but rather to be sipped, but the quicker i have to taste hard alcohol the better, so i prefer shots. we arrive at Robot Tattoo , a body shop aimed towards nerds. there are japanese toys of bipedal robots lining the shelves, the illustrations and sketches for tattoos aren't all too impressive, but i enjoy all the employees and their candor and friendliness. there isn't a lot of business going on for the day, so faryn and i are basically the main customers and center of attention. the employees bought a case of weapons from a magazine and were playing with them before we arrived, the tattoo artist who was scheduled to work on me nearly cut off his index finger with a machete. the wound is deep and is glowing bright red with fresh exposed meat. he glues himself together and piles on some gloves. i lay on the table and Faryn holds my hand for support. the process isnt at all as bad as i prepared myself for, i could feel it, and there was a degree of pain, but it was easy to dismiss as an annoyance rather than an unpleasant feeling. other than a few piss breaks i am on the table for roughly six hours. i get three boxes on my right arm.
the three boxes are something which have been in my mind for awhile, everyone keeps asking about them, and i really dont have a 'story' for them. everyone wants a story, some reason and explanation, as though it needs to represent some part of my life that they want to learn about or identify with. squares are squares, i like them, they are so balanced. at no point in my life will i go through a 'fuck squares' phase and regret the tattoo. there is a great history of symbolical reference to the theory of repetition that three of the same item that the squares can represent, but i dont like getting into all of that. i tell people its a graphical art thing, and they don't understand, but they act like they understand as though it makes sense.
may 13th 2009: (in response to a question about the squares)
ive encountered it on about a half dozen girls now (i have a folder dedicated to photos of squares on my PC). i'm not sure where i first saw it or on whom. back in 2003 i was drawing 4 squares, and liked the appeal of three after i saw it as a tattoo. the models themselves which i use are not really the focus or inspiration, but more of a vessel to house the message. things such as their experiences and fame their politics hobbies and personality do not affect the art, and for now i would like to remain detached from having such issues present in the work. if this girl were my close friend or a complete stranger it would not affect the end result.
kev offered some suggestions of its potential meaning in this thread. it is something i am going to continue to study, as i think it has a very base and diverse iconographic feel.
at its very core the symbols of squares are about a transition. the whole of my work is about love and relationships. relationships of gender, contrast, texture, value, etc. the transitional aspect of the square symbols helps act as a passage between the stagnant surface qualities and the more expressive and fleeting strokes and marks.
beautiful girls will always be in style. the definition of beauty may change throughout time but the idea of allure and captivation will remain. the way in which the subject is presented is reflected on the artist. splatters represent chaos and uncertainty, not being able to control aspects of the figure. shakey lines are personal insecurities and the inability to engage directly with the figure. the lack of color is the absense of love, it is rejection. the limited palette reflects bleakness in a very literal sense. the hatching is an angry gradation, short terse marks that are not subtle and smooth. the ink is the blood, it is the structure, a liquid that breathes life into an empty area.
the squares are the arbiter of my ideas, which are pasted onto nearly all of my figures. they do not always intend to represent the girls who do have the squares, but contain the stylistic idea of the girls i draw. in a way i have taken the squares away from the models and given it a new identity to describe any figure going through a transition. its a badge that is an ephemeral statement, it doesnt matter where you've been or where you are going, its about the 'now' aspect i try to contain within the symbol. each square could then be taken to represent past, present, and future.
the squares do not belong to anyone, they belong to a universal identity of sorts. anyone can wear the squares, and they can adopt the idea of the transitional journey. the squares are the time and movement of relationships, closer or drifting. rejection and acceptance. something has to act as the middleground between such dualities of relationships, the squares are that passage.
i am trying to capture and entail aspects of my own life in my work as means of making sense of the world around me. i am only interested in documenting a contemporary world, and filtering it through my past to see if i can predict the future. i want to arrange peices together and hopefully start to have some foresight into where it is going. the squares help to depict this... to me. its more than just 'oooh thats a neat tattoo, i'll draw that a bunch', and i hope to stay from that perception. i have given this a lot of thought for the past six years, as it is my main motif.
■ ■ ■
after the tattoo finishes we stand out on the street and kiss for awhile and i dont know exactly how i feel, its a strange mix of pride and profound happiness. i want time to go away and to have my past dissolve, the future doesnt matter, the exact moment is everything...and everything is alright in the world, in my world. i am immune to pain and anger. there are no haunting depressing thoughts in the back of my mind about losing her or the daily arguments and worries. in the moment i know that life is okay, and i'm doing something right at least.
christmas day is spent alone with Faryn. we have a simple day and everything is peaceful, perhaps too silent at times. we spend most of the day trying to get groceries and failing at finding a store that is open, then we shift our focus towards restaurants. i call and ask if i can get reservations and get told we might be able to sit at the bar for dinner. we drink a bit and head over to Jake's Grill in downtown southwest portland. i ask for a table for two and they find one for us. the place is packed, its one of about five places in portland that is open, its loud and energetic in a good way, everywhere you look everyone has a smile on their face, really a warm environment. the restaurant is fairly fancy, i'm wearing an air force shirt and black tie, she's wearing a bright floral dress. i go through all the right motions, or the motions i feel are right to do. the appetizer is an entertaining martini glass full of shrimp, oysters and shredded crab. on top is a crawdad boiled to bright red perfection in his entirety posing aloft his fishy martini pile. dinner was a turkey dinner which was perfect, just fucking amazing at every corner of the plate. i sip beers and faryn tries fruity hard alcohol drinks. a woman approaches me after the meal and whispers into my ear "i think you two are just adorable, i saw the way you stood for her when she sat at the table, my husband still does that for me, i hope things liek that never go away" i blush and smile upon hearing this.
the next few days are spent in conversation, worry about rent and roommates, and as the day grows old: getting fucked up. we had a wonderful small get together in the apartment the day before new year's eve. it's good to have so much laughter in the apartment.
for the duration of new year's eve i was fairly silent and pensive. i really milked the last year and though about where i stood at the end of 2008 and where i am now. in many ways i took great leaps forward. when 2008 ended i was worried about my grade sin school and about getting kicked out. i was paranoid about isolation and the majority of my life was spend online in deep debate wielding heavy words trying to hone my ability to articulate art theories and ideas. i went back to WOU and finished school. i lived in monmouth and tried to get a job and failed, my parents were mad at me for all the money i had to bum off of them to cover my bills. i lived at home for February and march, i did situps and pushups in vain attempt to break myself down physically and to try to get sleep.... or some form of rest with the looming threat of student loans over my head. i had no clue what i was going to do. i lived in portland in a eight foot by six foot closet for four months. i got a job in portland after a month. i began having income and the ability to handle my own loans, bills, and rent. i fell into routine working there and the cycle started to break in September when Faryn started calling me at night, nearly every night for a month she'd call between 11pm and 6am to check up on me and have short conversations about portland adventures hinting at the fact that we should be having them together. after five years of talking to each other online we met on october 1st. we started dating about two weeks later. its been exhausting and refreshing, horrid and inspirational, rough and smooth. we met at a really strange time when things were erratic, and somehow our helpless devotion to each other has endured a lot of drama and intensity. i love this girl, i must be a better person as a result of knowing her. the last few months have been somewhat documented leading up towards the end of the year.
i sat silently on the couch of her apartment milking over everything and realizing i still have a long way to go. an increasing amount of temporary problems are still looming over me. i had a panic attack on new year's eve and couldn't control my breathing. i sat on the floor and cried knowing full well how young and unable to be responsible i still am. the clock hits midnight and Faryn kisses me and i tell her in full honesty that i will not be weak anymore. everyone in my life is still angry at me for one reason or another, i'm not doing to good at juggling responsibilities. my shit is all apart.
hello 2010.
we head down to her parent's house after watching Sunshine Cleaning and Gigantic. both of which i enjoyed. i was enthralled by every minuscule aspect of her town and house.i felt comfortable and genuinely invited. the food was stellar, really top notch, i adore her family and the world she comes from. my being there seemed natural and non-intrusive.
i walked into the officemax in the pearl district and introduced myself, i shook hands with the store manager and told them who i was. faryn drives me to the bustop and before the bus arrives i get a call for an interview. it'll be nice to work in the pearl district. i am confident that i'll get a position there. the pearl district is the expensive upscale hotspot of activity in portland. its all art galleries and fancy-schmancy restaurants and offices. the location is ideal for art, its the most prolific visual art centered area of oregon (save theater in ashland possibly).
we are having meatloaf for dinner and i must stop typing now to go enjoy it.
the secret ingredient is love....and cilantro.
-joe