Toilet Humor

In writing this statement, I struggled with a tendency to dwell on details that aren’t significant because to skim over them or take anything for granted would run the risk of someone getting the wrong idea. And with something like this, that’s not really a risk I want to take. My intention is not, after all, to upset anyone.

Still,  I don’t want to waste anyone’s time “defending myself” either. There’s enough of me up on this website for any interested parties to get a pretty good idea of what kind of a person I am.

I wrote this statement months ago, but spent the last two hours trying to find the right balances concerning caution, brevity, honesty, and intention.

"Toilet Humor (Sex With Children)." 11/10/12. Watercolor paint, colored pencil, white kids paint, and black crayon. 9x12".
“Toilet Humor.” 11/10/12. Watercolor paint, colored pencil, white kids paint, and black crayon. 9×12″.

Pedophilia is a mental illness characterized by sexual attraction to prepubescent (undeveloped) boys or girls. People can’t control whom they’re attracted to. It’s a mental disorder. I don’t suffer from pedophilia, but I have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I understand what it’s like to have a brain that causes a person to think in ways that they’d rather not. However, just as it’s not okay for me to let my thoughts or feelings control my actions to any extent that would cause harm to another person, it’s not okay for anyone else to do so either – regardless of their specific mental disorder. Being attracted to someone doesn’t give you the right to have sex with them. And since a child isn’t capable of intelligently consenting to sex, it’s not ever okay to have sex with a child.

Shit gets a little bit less clear-cut when we’re talking about adolescents though. An adolescent is a person that has reached physical maturity, and that’s the point when, by nature, others (regardless of age) will begin to find them sexually attractive. Sixteen is the age, in Florida, at which people are (legislatively) deemed to have hit puberty and are thus legally capable of consenting to sex.

Personally, I’m not particularly interested in talking to a sixteen year old, let alone having sex with one. Physical maturity doesn’t equate to emotional maturity and any kind of intimate interaction with someone who’s still emotionally a “child” is nothing I want to experience.

The phrase “sex with children” is interesting to me. Because the word “children” is ambiguous, because teenagers are marketed as sex objects, because statutory rape laws are inconsistent between the states (and are sometimes totally fucked), and because there’s nothing in the world that can spark feelings as intense and hateful as pedophilia.

And because when I was eighteen, I started dating a girl two months before she turned sixteen. So – according to Florida law – I could have been convicted of statutory rape and – had that happened – even now, nine years later, everyone in my neighborhood would have gotten a notice in the mail to inform them that I, a sex offender, was now living in the area.

Adolescents are adults physically, but children emotionally. If two of them have sex with one another, it’s absurd that one should be convicted of a crime. Especially when that conviction (and mandated registration) carries the same stigma as being branded as a pedophile or a rapist.

I’m not eighteen anymore though so that part of this is no longer personally relevant. And while it’s possible that I could still potentially see or meet a sixteen year old that I found attractive, as soon as I found out her age, that would totally overpower any physical attraction that I felt and kill every shred of my interest in her. Still, despite the fact that I live in a culture in which girls that age are marketed to adults, as adults – with sex – to sell [whatever]… it’s still uncomfortable for me to acknowledge. That (and that it’s such a delicate issue, generally), I feel, makes it worth examining.

The decision to paint something with a swastika came as the result of a really silly conversation (earlier on the day that I painted this) that got me thinking about context and symbols  (or statements) that evoke powerful emotional responses.

A piece of art communicates a lot of different messages (whether intended or not) and the nature of art is such that the intentional messages aren’t always immediately clear. For that reason, while I understand that art can upset a person for any number of reasons, it seems pretty unreasonable that anyone should ever become angry (or, specifically, angry with the artist) on the sole basis of their interpretation of a piece. So I wanted to play with that, using the most powerful symbol of hate that I know: the swastika.

Since I was already plotting to paint something as prima facie controversial as “Sex With Children,” I figured it made sense to do this all in one blast. By putting that phrase and this (totally unrelated) symbol together, I thought I could accomplish everything that I wanted by bringing these things to the surface in a way that is so absurdly offensive that no one could possibly walk away from it thinking that it was created with malice of any kind. To believe otherwise would be to think the piece is a declaration that I support (and enjoy!) the fucking of children BUT HATE JEWS. I’d like to think that it’s totally implausible that there exists in the world anyone who’d feel the need to paint something with that communiqué as his or her end.

I would be really upset to find out that anyone was personally offended by this. On the other hand, anyone who has a problem with it because “it’s [potentially] offensive [to someone else]” (and hasn’t themselves been the victim of pedophilia or anti-Semitism) can fuck off.

On the other hand, anyone that has a problem with this because “it’s stupid” – well, that I totally understand. I’m not sure that I’d even disagree with you. Everything I’ve written is true but also, admittedly, I probably painted this just to fuck with people a little bit. I might enjoy making people just a little uncomfortable.


Parents (I’m Not Sorry)

"Parents (I'm Not Sorry)." 12/11/12. Pen and pencil. 2x3"
“Parents (I’m Not Sorry).” 12/11/12. Pen and pencil. 2×3″

I drew this while sitting in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, one night after “Clarity” and “Chrissy Fit” and one night before “No Accident.” I guess you could say it’s about stress and coping mechanisms. Cigarettes, yoga, whatever. I chose the kangaroo with the overgrown kid ’cause the things that stress us out most tend to be (1) problems we’ve created ourselves and (2) things that – long after we have any reason to – we continue to carry around with us.

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I’m still sick and I’ve been feeling especially under the weather today.  I’m good emotionally though, so I’m very grateful for that.

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The original is still available, but the image pictured here is the 4×4″ print that I have for sale in my webstore.


My Girlfriend Isn’t a Drug Addict, She Manages Her Own Life (and a Charlotte Russe), I Can’t Get Her to Pee On Me, and I’m Really Fucking In Love With Her

“My Girlfriend Isn’t a Drug Addict, She Manages Her Own Life (and a Charlotte Russe), I Can’t Get Her to Pee On Me, and I’m Really Fucking In Love With Her.” 2/24/13. Acrylic and pen on cardboard (on wood). 25×8″.

For a while, I was pretty convinced that the only girls who might ever possibly be interested in me were also drug addicts. I’m not sure whether it ever occurred to me that maybe it only seemed that way because the only girls I ever met were girls that I was in treatment with or girls at meetings.

In twelve-step programs, one is encouraged to surrender their will to [whatever]. It doesn’t really matter what it’s surrendered to, so long as you’re not the one calling the shots anymore. But regular people … you know… don’t have to do that. They get to manage their own lives. So, while I was buying cocaine by the ounce when I was seventeen, Heather has made it to twenty-eight (she’s old as shit!) without ever having tried anything beyond marijuana. That strikes as being totally insane, but my perception might be a little wacked. I have a hunch that a lot of people would find my history to be the one that’s a little unusual.

There’s all kinds of cool stuff I can’t talk Heather into, but peeing on me doesn’t fall into that category (because I don’t actually want her to pee on me; I just love to tease her and plead with her as if I do). I have fun.

Oh – and while she no longer works for Charlotte Russe, I’m still really fucking in love with her.

 

This piece was painted on a piece of cardboard from the same box as “The Weak End” series of paintings. It was one of my very first where I allowed myself to have absolutely zero concern with conveying a message with my images. For a time, I thought that the images in a painting needed to be directly related to any text that might appear in it. Eventually though, I realized that visual art is no different than music. No one ever asks “what does that A minor have to do with the lyrics to this song?” The music establishes a certain energy – a mood, a tone – that works in conjunction with the lyrics. While the nature of visual art allows me to sometimes make “music” that’s more obviously/directly linked to my “lyrics,” I no longer think it’s necessary.

This painting is currently for sale. sold on October 2, 2013.


Rational Anthem interview for Razorcake

When I was eighteen years old, I played in a band with Chris Hembrough. I smashed the windows of his house one night in a drug and alcohol-fueled rage. By 2008 (about four years later) we were friends again, but the kind of friends who rarely – if ever – hung out. He called me and asked if I’d come see his band play. They asked me if I could help them out with a few things and one thing led to the next. I convinced them to change their name (originally Portman). I helped them put together a demo. I booked an East Coast/Midwest summer tour. I started Traffic Street Records to make their next release appear more legitimate.

We drew some boundaries after a bit of tumult. I continued to put out their records, but I didn’t want to have to do any other chores for them and they didn’t want to put up with my mental illness. Part of me thought that without my incredibly skilled hand on the wheel, the band would crumble to shit. Part of me was wrong. Rational Anthem has grown to become one of my absolute favorite bands. And thanks to some serious, long-term inpatient treatment, I’m no longer a mixed blessing or a liability for them. I’m just a friend and a fan.

We sat down for two hours the night before they left town for their sixth annual U.S. tour to talk about their (often our) misadventures along with the kind of personal stuff that wouldn’t normally come up if we were just hanging out as buddies.

That’s the introduction I wrote for my interview with Rational Anthem in the new issue of Razorcake. If you’re not a subscriber, you can get a copy right here. The interview’s really lengthy and came out really well. Thanks a ton to Todd Taylor for being an excellent editor, to Bambi Guthrie and Marc Gärtner for their photographs, and to Keith Rosson for doing a killer layout.

from Razorcake's 76th issue
from Razorcake’s 76th issue

Eye

The Google search that brings the most traffic to my Storenvy site is “rough sex images.” Something tells me these people might not be finding what they’re looking for…

I got an awesome package in the mail from Justin at Underground Conmunique today. And just in time to utilize my new li’l record listening station that I set up yesterday.

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Adorable. (Right???)

Every song by The Heat Tape sounds like another song by The Heat Tape. It’s a good thing that they’re all really, really good.

VBS thanked me on their record insert (which warms the cockles of my little heart). Wanna hear a funny story? When I first agreed to do the Vacation Bible School split with The Brokedowns (which as we know, wound up on It’s Alive after Traffic Street crumbled) I requested that VBS record extra songs so that I could pick and choose since I thought their track record was a little spotty. Before that happened, I wound up releasing their split with The God Damn Doo Wop Band, which featured “The Swarming” (a song better than anything most bands ever record) and since then, they’ve yet to record a single song that I wouldn’t be proud to release. If anyone’s ever (inadvertently) “shown me,” it’s definitely those guys. I might only just now be getting a physical copy of their album (“Ruined the Scene”) but I’ve been listening to it since it came out (two plus years ago) more consistently than (maybe) any other record to come out in that time. If you haven’t heard it / don’t own it, do yourself a favor and correct that.

And so long as I’m rambling – speaking of awesome packages from Justin… he was the first person to send me a care package when I was in treatment at Tranquil Shores. We’ve only met (briefly) a couple of times, in the midst of whirlwind fests, so for him to go out of his way like that for me / show me that he cared… it really meant a lot to me.

It’s really easy to bum out about how awful this planet can be, but it’s not all that much harder to take a step back and really recognize just how outstanding it can be. People can be rotten sometimes, but – far more often – (in my daily life anyway) I see, again and again, evidence of just how wonderful a lot of us are.

Originally this update was just gonna be a couple sentences but since it’s gone this far…

"Eye." 1/17/13. Charcoal. 9x12".
“Eye.” 1/17/13. Charcoal. 9×12″.

I think this piece fits in well with what I’ve been writing about. My friend, Mary Beth, was about to leave treatment and go back to Atlanta so she was granted a day pass to go out with her nephew. When she came back, she had a bag of art supplies that she had bought for me. Stuff that I had never used before. This is one of my nine “learning-to-draw-with-charcoal” sketches that I did shortly thereafter.

And it’s funny that the only person that currently owns a print of this piece is my friend, Doug, who I met at Awesome Fest 4 when he invited me to stay in the room he had reserved at [whatever that hotel in San Diego that used to be cool is called]. Not only did he let me stay for free, but when I found out that Dead Mechanical had nowhere to sleep, I sheepishly asked if … could they maybe… possibly… also sleep in the room? “Of course!” he said without a second thought. AF4 was the most fun I’ve ever had at any fest and Doug was definitely one of the people that made it what it was.

So… here’s to people like Doug, Mary Beth, Justin, and those lovable tykes in Vacation Bible School. I wouldn’t wanna live in a world without ’em.

Here’s a video of Vacation Bible School playing at Awesome Fest 4. (Perfect!)

I’m gonna take a little time now to do something nice for someone. (If you’re not at work right now, you should try it too!)


Kill Your Parents

"Kill Your Parents." 4/5/13. Oil pastel. 12x18".
“Kill Your Parents.” 4/5/13. Oil pastel. 12×18″.

Here’s a piece from April and a statement from May.

I got out of rehab in February, but I’m still technically “in treatment.” Instead of twenty-five hours of group therapy each week, I’m down to three and a half. That’s one group – expressive art therapy – on Friday afternoons.

This piece is a little off for two reasons. At the start of art group, there’s a meditation, intended to lead us in what we’ll make. I was late and I missed it. More importantly, there had been an influx of new patients since I had been in group the previous Friday. And though it’s way more tempered than it once was, I still struggle with this strange impulse when confronted with new people (particularly in this kind of setting) – I feel like I have to let everyone know just how fucking outrageous I am… So I drew my drawing and then when it came time to title/caption it, I went with something not at all representative of how I was feeling, but something that would show the new crew how god damn wacky and edgy I am.

In that sense, this piece is kind of a failure. Because it’s not totally authentic or honest. In two other ways though, it’s a success. First, expressive art therapy isn’t about setting out to make something and then making it. It’s about making something – anything. It’s about making whatever comes out onto the page without premeditation or commitment to some vision in your head. When I first sat down, I started drawing an image that I had dreamed up for use as Rational Anthem’s summer tour poster. But I caught myself and stopped.

Second, it’s a success in that it’s got me writing this, right now. Acknowledging my neurotic compulsions and being honest about what an attention seeking, other-people’s-perceptions-of-me obsessed, insecure basketcase I can sometimes still be.


Still Sick (The Illest)

"Still Sick (The Illest)." 9/13/13. Marker and pen. 24x26".
“Still Sick (The Illest).” 9/13/13. Marker and pen. 24×36″.

Heroin is my drug of choice. While I’ve got a couple secondary DOCs, I’ve definitely never considered myself a “garbage can” addict (someone who will take anything at all to get any kind of fucked up). While I have a weird sort of pride about being a heroin addict, it’s only with some hesitancy that I’ll admit to ever having had any kinds of issues with alcohol or cocaine. I used to tease my friend Robin that – “while I’m glad to see you’re doing well, you probably need to go back out, hit bottom, and then come back if you actually wanna get better.” Because Robin’s DOC was crack – “not a real drug” (according to half-joking Sam).

So it’s really sort of embarrassing that I was as excited as I was yesterday when I bought OTC medicine for my cold symptoms. If there’s ever been any doubt in my mind about whether or not I’m really a drug addict, my excitement as I bought generic Nyquil yesterday ought to be all the indication I need to know that I am not like most people.

 

In so many ways, I feel like I’m just starting out – just starting to figure everything out. Myself, my life, what I want to do, how I want to do it. I feel like I’ve just recently started being me. This is my first large drawing (it’s two feet by three feet). Creating it was an interesting process and at so many different points, I felt myself being pulled in two different directions as to how I should proceed. Sometimes I want to push myself to try something new, sometimes I think I ought to stick with what makes my art look like my art.

The last thing I did was write in a sentence from the NA text that’s been in my head recently. “Although all addicts are basically the same in kind, we do, as individuals, differ in degree of sickness and rate of recovery.” I crossed it out. I wrote the word, “sick.” I crossed that out. I thought about what I wanted to do with the black bars where the words had been. I decided not to do anything with them.

 

Writing a statement about a piece, right when it’s done, is tricky sometimes. There are some other little things going on here, but I don’t know quite what to make of them yet. Thoughts about friendships, school, identity, and where I fit in.


The piece sold but limited edition hand-numbered and signed 12×18″ prints are still available. Hit me up if you’d like to purchase one.