I was eleven years old in 1984. My sister, my mom, and I lived on the very top of Cemetery Hill in Quincy California, in a two story white house that I was convinced was haunted. My sister’s boyfriend gave me his old unicycle. It was awesome. A chrome Schwinn unicycle from the seventies. I lowered the seat and could barely reach the pedals. I had seen a kid that could ride one; just about anywhere. All through town he’d ride, up and down the curbs in the sidewalk, and just about anywhere he pleased. I remember seeing him ride to the liquor store for candy. I really wanted to be able to do that. I’m not sure why. Maybe because no one else could. It’s not like it looked cool, although to me, it kind of did look pretty cool. It just didn’t seem possible. I mean, to be able to stay up, and go, on purpose, on just one wheel. That doesn’t even make sense to me now, but there i was, the proud owner of my very own unicycle.
I figured fate had brought the two of us together. My unicycle and me.
I started in our living room. Holding on to the edge of the wall and the top of the couch. I would push back on the pedal to lift myself up and balance. I’d ever so slightly lean forward keeping tension on the pedals and then let go. Of course, I just fell off at first. and soon found myself striving to just get a quarter turn out of the crank. Seems like it took days and days to get there. Then I aimed at half a turn,then three quarters of a turn. Eventually I could get the pedals all the way around, one full turn which was only about three feet in distance. After what seemed like months of practice, I could actually ride across my living room. Deciding to take it outside, into the real world, was much harder than I presumed. The hard ground was faster than the comfortable carpet of my living room. I managed to get used to it and got to where I could go all the way down my driveway. I learned how to turn, to stop, to go slow, fast, and maneuver around obstacles. I would guess it took about a year of practice, but I eventually got to where i could ride down the hill and through town; up and down the curbs in then sidewalk and to to the liquor store to get some candy. I had become the kid I envied.
I started painting in 2005 after tattooing for a little over five years. I always wanted to paint. I was raised by an oil painter for a mom. I used to watch her paint and it looked so easy. She would wiggle her hand and magic would take place. Things would become real right before my eyes. After doing about twenty paintings of animals, and people. I ran out of references. I started painting from a plastic skull I got from the art store. it wasn’t for any other reason besides I needed something to paint and didn’t want to paint a pot of flowers. I ended up buying a real human skull after selling a few paintings and was taken by the thought that it was a real person’s remains, and that I, too, will someday be just a pile of bones.
After years of painting, mostly skulls, some animals, some people, some places, and a few other random subjects. I keep finding myself frustrated that I am pretty much at a loss of what the hell to paint. I truly love painting. Not because I love the process, or the smell, or anything like that, (I do love those things) but because I love making something out of nothing. to create something that has never existed before. Of course paintings have existed before, but not my paintings.
So, for now, in between projects, and obligations, I have been painting an old chrome unicycle from the seventies. It is my current self portrait. Along with a profound metaphor of dedication, perseverance, attitude, independence, isolation, uniqueness, absurdity, impracticality, esteem, and everything that is, artistry.
none of these are available for purchase at the moment. I plan on doing 26, in total, or at least that many before I show them officially. Hopefully by the end of 2011.
Stop by the gallery: 214 NW 6th st. Grants Pass, Oregon and see them in person. these are all photos off my phone. Way better in person.
