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kaleidosoup
Waste some time with these beautiful kaleidoscope images
fixed by gpack member, Saturday, November 30, 2002 : 12:41 p.m.

LiveJournal for Esotairika
The image I am posting tonight is a painting I did with oil pastels, oil colour, on wood panel/mixed media. It's called "Break Through". So many people ask me what is going on in this image. Well... I had a very abusive step father. I was home on a week day(likely feigning illness), my junior year of high school. I wanted to make something out of wire, so I went down to his workshop and borrowed a needle nose. I thought I was completely alone... it was a pretty large house. I tip toed out onto the freezing cold floor, in my underwear and a t-shirt. It was winter in North Carolina. I reached up to grab the pliers, and as if I were in a scene of some horror film, my step father was standing in the door when I turned to go back in. He said, "I told you that I didn't want you using my tools ever!!" Sound like a masculine Mommy Dearest? He called me a stupid little brat or something and proceeded to lock me in the garage. Then I watched him drive away. My mom was out of town... I didn't know when he would be back, and my brothers were off at college. So I took a sledge hammer and I beat the door off its hinges. I was pretty damn mad. I kept the door knob and I painted this painting when I lived in Savannah, GA. I was 19.
fixed by gpack member, Saturday, November 30, 2002 : 10:33 a.m.

mat's LiveJournal
Art events used to be scintillating parties. There was a drama and pulse to walking the halls of the upstairs art studios at the Woman's Building, the Spring Street studios, the American hotel, and that pulse was the people. They smoked, drank, snorted coke, bummed cigarettes, ran anxiously toward the smell of burning marijuana, laughed with a hint of abandon and a pinch of terror. There was no networking, no slide packets, no resumes, no worrying about whether the fucking hiring committee faculty asswipes would be showing up. there were no careers and no anti-depressants, people smoked indoors and drank a bottled beer in five swigs. They talked of fantastic things too, about visions they had and the possibilities of things that now it can be said none of them (us) ever did. Nowadays the dry conversations center around the latest addition to one's resume. Well, your resume is pointless and the beer is not getting any colder, we are going to get nuked or macheted before smoking gives us cancer, and the art may be slick and well presented but nobody will see it when you doff your perch at some college in B.F. Inland Empire Valley re-tread student loan scam school. The madness has been drained and it has been sadly apparent to me lately, not just at this event, in fact, it was less here, but the whole contrast came to me because I used to bounce through the halls of the Woman's Building and ingest the fire. Do I sound like a cranky old man or am I just going to the wrong parties?
fixed by gpack member, Friday, November 29, 2002 : 12:40 p.m.


Gear up the soda press. Learn from a Shit-jerky, How to be nice to people or regain some faith in them.
fixed by gpack member, Monday, December 17, 2001 : 02:27 p.m.


"What an obvious mistake to make -- to think that anything can be enhanced by decoration that does not belong to it. It's impossible. For if there is anything striking in the decoration, that is what is praised, while the veiled and hidden object continues all the same in all its ugliness." --Boethius
fixed by gpack member, Monday, December 17, 2001 : 10:52 a.m.


Keep the finger out of the jive circuit, fine plan, old bean! Why don't we maybe stick to it!
fixed by gpack member, Saturday, December 15, 2001 : 12:30 a.m.


Maybe was a weletois. Who knew. AT LEAST IT FORCES ME TO keep my finger out of the jive circuit.
fixed by gpack member, Saturday, December 15, 2001 : 12:28 a.m.