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The Escapist

There's No Place Like Someplace Else

long time, no see
Robot Rules World
bustermaximus
I've had that midi music from when they dive down into the depths of the ocean to find the shark in The Life Aquatic stuck in my head all day. It's a wonderful piece to have stuck in your head. It's calming.

It's funny, really. As big as the continent that I live on is, as large and diverse as the country I claim citizenship to is, I still feel like I'm stuck on a very small island, surrounded by impassible seas. I'm building a raft, because I need to get the fuck outta here.

Comic March
Robot Rules World
bustermaximus
So, I'm going through with Comic March, where I take the month of March, and try to complete 32 pages of comic in 31 days. I invited a few people to join in, and I don't know if I'll be going it alone or not at this point. If I do go it alone, then so be it. Just in case anyone wants to spontaneously start drawing a 32 page comic tomorrow, or watch me succeed or fail at it, you can join the LJ community that I created for the occasion, comic_march. I suppose that the first post to that group will be made on the first of March.

In order to have any hope of getting this done, I'm taking a vacation from the internet. Yeah, I know. It's not as if I've been too particularly active on my LJ lately, so it probably won't have much of an effect on anyone around these parts. Still, I'm just letting people know. Aside from updates, I really want to limit my interweb time. It's just too easy to waste hours surfing around out of boredom, and I'll be needing those hours for drawing time.

Anyway, wish me luck, and I'll keep y'all posted!

Myspace
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bustermaximus
So, lately, I've been hanging out at Myspace more often than not. It is an addicting type place, but I'm actually quite surprised at the networking opportunities it has presented. I'm working on becoming the next master of cheesecake pin-up art, and I decided I wanted models I could actually communicate with, rather than just stealing reference material. I posted around various communities and forums I frequent, but got absolutely nowhere until I tried a few groups on Myspace. Now, I've got beautiful girls positively THROWING themselves at me! Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but I have gotten quite a pleasantly active response from Myspace.

So, as much of a bandwagon jumper as that makes me, I've kinda taken my operation over there. I'm certainly not giving up Livejournal, since it's been my online journal for nearly five years now. (wow, that's a long time!) I still expect to run to LJ when I want to vent. I like the LJ features better than the Myspace blog. But, a change of venue can often be healthy, so I go to Myspace more often when I'm bored, and even like to update the blog there with stupid notions, so far about Myspace-type issues. I even went and prettified my profile page. It can be found HERE, if anyone's interested. I even have a couple of actual photographs depicting me there. Yeah, I know. I've resisted the urge to post my mug online for roughly ten years, but have finally fallen under the siege. It'll probably screw up a few established internal images of me, and for ruining the fantasy me, I sincerely apologize.

Well, that's all for now. I am working on a bit of a bio-essay about my time spent in Yellowstone, which I'll be posting when I'm finished. It's even going to have pictures! I'm planning to go back to Yellowstone this spring, by the way. I've already filled out the application.

Pin-up
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bustermaximus
I've taken up the task of painting naked girls, pin-up style and whatnot. So, if there's any naked girls out there who wish to be painted pin-up style and whatnot, do not be afraid to contact me. Here's an example, only not so much naked:

http://www.deviantart.com/view/27538276/

Robot Rules woRld
Robot Rules World
bustermaximus
It must be going on ten years now that I've felt such a heady force of ego. You know those movies where the guy is supposed to be the "chosen one", and he spends the entire film getting his ass kicked concave left and right, until he finally figures it all out, and proceeds to fuck shit up real hardcore? Yeah. I feel like I'm at the end of the movie right now. I'm omnipotent and indestructible.

Feast or failure.
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bustermaximus

The other day, I had an epiphany. A really big one. The "life changing" kind, where everything fuzzy about your life all just comes sharply into focus all at once. And now, I have a direction for myself. Well, sort of.

Anyone reading this, who might actually read my entries when I enter them, should know that I define my life very heavily by my artwork. The problem is, and was, that my artwork never really had a creative drive. I never had a muse. I never really had an artistic philosophy. I've had leanings, and under explained feelings. I've always felt that good art is more than academic. Good art should have some greater application than to merely "be art". The only guy who could adequately get away with that philosophy was Marcel DuChamp, (who I've been ruminating upon a lot lately) and that's only because HIS art served the application of rebellion. Since then, things have been falling down the hole in the art world, as contemporary art moves further and further into conceptual abstraction, labeling things "art" when they are merely stunts, while at the same time, dismissing the most populous applications of artistic techniques because their motives are commercial.

So what if art serves commercial motives?! Do you really think that the Pope commissioned Michelangelo to do the Sistine Chapel purely out of patronage? It was propaganda. It was a display of the wealth and power of The Church. The Medici's commissioning of great artists and artisans helped to solidify the dynasty's name throughout time, and they did such commissioning with a very calculative hand. This sort of patronage for propaganda continues even to this day, but God forbid the patron be Nike or McDonald's! God forbid the artist be a lowly and reprehensible illustrator or graphic designer!

It's big pile of shit. I've been looking at the art world as an artist on the outside for a long time, and the conclusion I've come to is that art, and the system that holds sway over it, is nothing more than an exercise in forensic science. Even the vaunted term "movement" is given ironically. Movements are nothing but the muscular seizures of a corpse, and they aren't recognized and studied until after the seizures have stopped. The motion must be long past. The artists must very often be dead themselves. Haring, Basquiat, Wojnarowicz; all three names being dropped more and more often, as working class hero artists of a new generation, all three dead by the end of the Eighties. The Eighties is really the newest identifiable generation in art? We can love current work now, but won't be able to study it, label it, categorize it, and otherwise lend credence to the work until the artists start dying off? Have I really chosen such a morbid profession?

Of course, in truth, I have. Academia has never been very good about studying live samples, in real time. Evidence must calm down, and settle on the bottom of the jar before a good look can be taken. And yet, art itself, as an act, doesn't work that way. It is a living organism, which can morph itself into whatever shape is needed to have an effect. Like some kind of a virus, it is at its most effective when passed from person to person through intimate contact and gestation. In other words, it works best when people look at it, think about it, and talk about it, together, as it happens.

True artists know this. The greatest of artists knew this. Some proclaimed that knowledge outright, and wrote great manifestos on how they would use their knowledge of the truth to change the being of art. Others were savvy enough to just work on changing it without proclamations. These days, though, it seems that perhaps idealism is easily turned to cynicism, and savvy is easily twisted to greed.

I feel no REAL sense of community amongst artists, especially those coming up behind the current generation. It's all so much about defining their work as their own property, not creations to be shared with the world, amongst the whole of people. It's all so much about perfecting techniques that might one day get them exhibited or hired. The world, the people, means nothing to artists these days. It's all selfish grasping. I find myself asking what art would look like if De Kooning snatched his soon-to-be-erased drawing from Rauschenburg's hand, screaming "MINE MINE MINE!" I find myself asking what art would look like if Campbell's or Brillo, or Elvis sued Warhol over his work.

Perhaps it would be better in quality, more learned, more practiced, more polished. I doubt it, though. Advertising puts the greatest value on such things as study, practice, and polish. It isn't any wonder why the "fine" arts strive to separate themselves from the "commercial" arts. Art loses it's most basic power when it's used to sway a person's decisions, rather than challenge a person's thoughts. For all of its disconnect from society as a whole, the fine art faction can at least recognize the commercial art faction's great disconnect.

We live in an age of easy technology. We live in an age in which a person can press a button or two, and his expressions are flung far across the globe, and broadcast to the reaches of space. Yet, with all of this technology, we see art, either cloistered in a crumbling ivory tower with a million men bearing magnifying glasses, or flung onto the street as a whorish shill for products and ideas that are too useless to sell themselves. We're lied to. We're told that art is for special occasions, and art must be protected and studied and explained to be appreciated. So, they just disconnect from it. People walk through the wings of great museums and galleries talking on cell phones and listening to MP3's, sitting and watching the TV's and listening to the headsets for answers on how to think about the confusing art they're looking at. Now is a time in which public television documentaries about the noisy world advertising creates can come to the conclusion justifying the fact that it drives communities apart, and people are made more introverted and selfish, and humans are now openly referred to by the economic term "consumer". After all, it's what's happening, and nobody's been successful in disputing it, so it must be what we want for ourselves.

So now, I'm left asking myself questions. Why aren't we asking more of our artists? Who should art be for? What is the best art being made, and where is it coming from? With these questions, come answers. We aren't asking more, because we've grown lazy, and left it up to everyone else, who, in turn, is also lazy, and leaving it up to us. Art should be for the people, and, whether they want it or understand it, it should be staring them in the face, unadulterated, in the very streets they walk down, rather than holed up in hidden galleries or misappropriated to sell products. The best art being made is the art that is self-aware and challenging, rather than being merely non-sequiter, flashy, and loud. It's coming, mostly, from in and around the streets, made by people who care about what they do, rather than where they think it'll take them.

So went the epipheny. I've got an application for my artwork, both physical and spiritual. I now follow in the footsteps of those who thought and think of themselves as guerillas fighting a war of attrition. Art needs its own force of propaganda these days. It's got a bad rap when it has any rap at all, and it's time for me to stick my neck out for my mistress in the best way I see fit. I guess we'll know that I've failed if I get a sweet contract with Coke, and/or end up having my work dissected and described by professors and critics ten years after my death. Until then, I'll see whether my bugling can start an adequate rally for my side.


Right, then. Happy New Year, and all that that entails.
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bustermaximus
Hope it all comes down the right chute for y'all this year. I'll endeavor to make my own upcoming year a worthy one.

Jesus was born, now GIMME GIMME GIMME!
violence yay!
bustermaximus
First of all, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! This is truly one of the happiest times of my year. I love my family, and I love spending the holidays with my family. My family is effing cool, and they make it so a cynical person like me can fall in love with a time that cynical people are usually getting suicidal.

So, mostly I got weapons for Christmas. Draw your own conclusions. All I know is that when the zombies finally come, I ain't goin' out like the rest of all ya fools. I'm goin' out painted in zombie blood! I'll post a picture of them (the weapons, not the zombies) within a couple of days. They're all pretty damned cool weapons. (Here's a hint for one of them... God would be cut. Here's a hint for another... I'll shoot my eye out.)

I hope everyone else had a great Christmas, or at least had a great time yesterday. If not, how can I help?

What I've been doing with myself.
a man obsessed
bustermaximus
I don't know what's gotten into me, but for some reason, I really want to feel like I'm part of something. Something community-like. I've been feeling this way for awhile now, and I've been trying to do things about it. However, it's hard to know where to start to put myself out there, when I've been living the live of the transient hermit for so long. At any rate, it's proving to be a fun experiment.

I'm even going so far as to take part in community-oriented challenges like the one found here. Here's my first day's attempt, but I went WAY over 15-30 minutes.

Read more...Collapse )

I hope that the speed part isn't the most important aspect of the rules, because it takes me more than fifteen minutes to get a decent sketch out, and, to be frank, I'm past the point where sketches are anything more than roughs. So, to do this and be fair about it for myself, I decided that the daily aspect was the most important.

Speaking of which, I should start on today's.

I have more to say, but I can't think of it right now. Mayhaps I'll post my next drawing, and pick things up from there.

I just spent an hour spewing shit all over this journal, and all I can say after all that is...
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bustermaximus

Fuck.

Nevermind.


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