There are days I look up and think I’m living in the head of someone else. 
Category: Mind of deep crazy
A creative Summer of 2016 to paint
I made so much this Summer and I hope you have enjoyed watching me deep in my muchness. Here is a collection of my art videos for the Season. Enjoy!
Ink fields and Juice Boxes
Making has this power that gives strength to the voiceless. I never knew how much I would have made in such a short amount of time. It feels like a nursery rhyme I was told as a kid that ended up being made into films. I see the words late at night and then they become more.
I love how the ink wash shines in this one. So much more to come.
The red bunny
I’m going to make a different video tomorrow. A story will be told. A story of me.
I haveĀ never been the story of my life to me. I felt like I was a character but today I become …more.
The journey moves forward.
the pill
I couldn’t sleep last night. It took me what felt like a life time to rest for a minute. It comes in waves. Years back when these moments attacked me I would stand up and paint until i couldn’t do anything but pass out. I’m not sure I will ever be that man again. He was insane and I’m only whiling to find madness it spurts. Art is my meditation and my drug…..plus drugs.
In my life I have been ….
a artist, a father,a worker, a dying man,a painter and husband……I am still happy most of those things. You have to put all of your self into what you do for it to mean something. Jaws Blake had to become fully one thing at a time even if that meant failing a lot. Failure is not the end of things but the best part of finally becoming a master of your own frustrations.
I remember the first time I saw myself as a painter. I was in a famous black professor of art’s studio. He took me under his wing. I’m not sure if he thought of it that way but I was swept up in the magic Ā of the smells of his studio. Charles Rogers changed my life I those moments of simply saying “do you think it is done? Are you sure you feel done? Give me another hour of that painting.” It drove me to madness and in that madness I found my style. Now when I paint I search inside for the madness to lead me. The colors are the wild beast screaming just under me heart and fingers. They are a pipeline to restfulness. I can always tell a “real” painter from a talker of art because that madness is a drug I crave and it leave a look in the eyes. A hunger that needs more then food and sleep and sex. Honestly until my Alec nothing but the madness gave peace and rest. She saved me from me. I have to push my self to the edge of madness with the brush and her heart beat is my anchor.
Deep in the mind soup
- I am a painter. I always have been for as long as I can remember. My parents were always really supportive of my paint. Not always on my subject matter but completely on my passion. I remember being in high school and being told to “be a machenic so I could make money.” My mom told me “to be an artist” because I loved it so I did. I took breaks in my life but I have always comeback to it and it has done me well.
jaws_blake 