I can’t capture the entirety of queer experience in any single work or art. But, I can strive, one step at a time, one canvas at a time, to tell better stories than what I had in my formative years.
My art is a celebration of the erotic not just for pleasure alone, but pleasure as activism, pleasure as pathway to liberation.
The gay erotic surrealism of Burrough’s hyper-masculine hero John Carter unpacked through the medium of a new oil painting
As nativism and fascist politics are on the rise everywhere, a heroine like Modesty is more vital and relevant than ever
Making art is grabbing some inchoate idea from the ether and trying wrestle it into physical existence. Always failing, really, but never stopping.
Imagine, if you will, our own queer, smutty twittergram where we share our work and our thoughts without fear of algorithmic erasure, trolls, or weaponized reports.
Why is sex, and the erotic in general, segregated in our storytelling?
Today I make one thing. I may make something different tomorrow. I close down by hitting a kind of reset button on the office, restoring it to a ready state–ready for tomorrow’s adventure.
Everything that’s not burning hot like that hothouse, not pushing and pulling to reshape us into our most glorious selves, not utterly committed and vulnerable, is the mistake, the fake, the loss, the near miss.
Expanding my routines freed up my thinking about health and physique, freed up my body and, believe it or not, freed up my art, too.