this is my studio currently. sometimes cleaning things up feels so much like composing a picture that I’ll spend all day only doing that. other times I convince myself it’s better to make a picture. this tiny paradox is a long and brutal struggle and nobody is winning. 

Also Morgan Herrin! Everything at ADA gallery is catching my eye this morning. Nice! 

Katie Baines' paintings are just great

LOL don’t

Checked out Monica Cooks new work at the new Postmasters location in TriBeCa. It’s a great spot.

Process photo. Painting everyday. Posting less often. Unsocial media

Stephen Soroka and I created an original comedic pilot called Re:Verse. It stars Maria Krovatin as Pippa, a 22 year old law school drop out moving to New York and making infinite decisions. 

I’m really proud of this venture and especially proud of all the people who worked on it. We were selected to screen at the New York Television Festival which begins next week. It kicks off with a keynote by Michael Hurwitz, creator of Arrested Development. 

The production on Re:Verse went exceptionally smoothly. Important things I learned about producing: 1. Find great people  2. Challenge great people with large and difficult ideas 3. Remove any obstacle that could get between those people and their ability to be great 4. When your thing turns out great, shout the names of those great people to anyone who will listen!

Re:Verse also stars-

Re:Verse also stars: Stephen Soroka (Sundance Channel, UCB, The PIT), Mike O’Gorman (The Awesomes, Tiny Apartment), Kate Burton (Veep, Gray’s Anatomy), Rebekka Johnson (The Apple Sisters, Speakeasy), Ryan Gilreath (Gold Fever, A Christmas Carol), Alison Barton (Bottomless Brunch, Hey Girl), Nigel DeFriez (The Mud, The Greggs), Anna Quindlin (One True Thing, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake)

It was shot by Garret Hardy Davis

and edited by Jonathan Pulley

sound by Jon Flores

Credits designed by John Stanch 

If you get a chance to work with any of these people- do it!

And if you are in New York and want to check out the project along with other cool things. Info here

compelling. click through and feel kind of awful! 

I battled with this iQuit painting for a while. You can see some of the stabs at it above. It’s done now- I’m quitting with it. A good way to tap out on a painting is to donate it. This is going to Artwalk’s Coaltion for the Homeless— It’s a nice event that I gave work to last year. 
I remember sloshing to that party during the first snow storm of the year. It was the kind of snow that’s heavy in the sky but melts instantly on the ground. It’s the kind of snow that works very hard to appear snow like and then burns out on the effort of being snow by the time it makes it to the ground.


I remember feeling stupid and helpless and sad for no good reason, standing alone before anyone I knew showed up. I got there aggressively early and didn’t want to go in and started walking around SoHo, staggering in a kind of sentimental recall. I remember the first time I came to New York and walked through SoHo, thinking ‘what do I do here if I don’t want to buy anything!?’ I’ve been here for 8 years and I still don’t have an answer to that. 
Inside the auction everything was elegant, tope and dark brown with candle lights and appetizers more shocking and well appointed than the art. I remember actively trying not to think very hard about the ‘good’ it was doing or what that means lest I dissolve into a pool of shame. A woman came up to me in a neon dress and told me that she only collects text-based works and my first thought was “why?” Sales is not my thing. 
I remember the first time I heard someone talk about Gerhard Richter’s Table painting. It was a grad student in Alexander Hall back in Savannah. He was adamantly pointing at a coffee table book saying ‘yes, he gives up, but look at how he gives up… in just the right way!’ 
I remember driving over the suspension bridge in Savannah the final time. I remember trying to imagine my mind as the city itself - a gridded topography teeming with all perspectives. Don’t be one thing, I kept saying. I remember trying not to be bitter, trying to choose something other than regret. I remember thinking: ‘almost nothing ends.’ I had one CD that I’d bought the night before - Ryan Adams and the Cardinals. It was an impulse buy. I liked the packaging. I went from listening, to singing along, to sort of screaming it out over the course of 13 hours on the road. Here is a line from “If I am a stranger” that used to get to me.
to tell the truth 
it’s hard enough without a lover
who you want to hide your darkness from
so they won’t let you down
When I was younger I assumed that any internal dialogue was darkness. I did a lot of hiding, emotionally I mean. Hahaha. Still do. Heh. Save it for the art where it can do something maybe! It would be nice, reader, if right now you could imagine a drum build up and symbols crashing here… very softly, compelling not cheesy. Thank you for that. 
I remember Luke saying ‘the thing about Francis Bacon is that, he’s great, or whatever, but you can’t learn anything from him.’ Luke has a British accent so this sounded really authoritative to me. 
I remember laughing with Zach when I heard that the old pope was starting a twitter account and thinking about the person who was ghost tweeting for the pope. I remember asking where I should apply to be the ghost writer for the holy spirit.
I remember reading this article about Antonin Scalia, and thinking ‘insane people are in charge of everything.’ 
Once, when I was young and still being dragged to church on Sundays, my mother said as an aside, “well the church wasn’t really in the clear during world war II. There are definitely some embarrassing things about the record on that.”
Neutrality is complicated form of embarrassment. 
I remember Dan Harmon saying in an interview that as a young man he was angry with people for not noticing him in the corner choosing to be the quiet one.  
I’m feeling that sharp flash in the little folds of a soft gray mind. I’m feeling the sting of getting at something right before my phone buzzes and pulls me into another frame. I’m ready to sling some words, some paint, some poetry at this thing, whatever comes. I hope I know when to quit, I’m thinking. I’m telling myself, get cold man, take a pose! I’m telling myself what a goddamn snowflake this moment is. I’m telling myself to melt before I smack the goddamn ground. Here comes the end of something and the start of something I’m gritting my teeth and all that’s left is the hashtags… I battled with this iQuit painting for a while. You can see some of the stabs at it above. It’s done now- I’m quitting with it. A good way to tap out on a painting is to donate it. This is going to Artwalk’s Coaltion for the Homeless— It’s a nice event that I gave work to last year. 
I remember sloshing to that party during the first snow storm of the year. It was the kind of snow that’s heavy in the sky but melts instantly on the ground. It’s the kind of snow that works very hard to appear snow like and then burns out on the effort of being snow by the time it makes it to the ground.


I remember feeling stupid and helpless and sad for no good reason, standing alone before anyone I knew showed up. I got there aggressively early and didn’t want to go in and started walking around SoHo, staggering in a kind of sentimental recall. I remember the first time I came to New York and walked through SoHo, thinking ‘what do I do here if I don’t want to buy anything!?’ I’ve been here for 8 years and I still don’t have an answer to that. 
Inside the auction everything was elegant, tope and dark brown with candle lights and appetizers more shocking and well appointed than the art. I remember actively trying not to think very hard about the ‘good’ it was doing or what that means lest I dissolve into a pool of shame. A woman came up to me in a neon dress and told me that she only collects text-based works and my first thought was “why?” Sales is not my thing. 
I remember the first time I heard someone talk about Gerhard Richter’s Table painting. It was a grad student in Alexander Hall back in Savannah. He was adamantly pointing at a coffee table book saying ‘yes, he gives up, but look at how he gives up… in just the right way!’ 
I remember driving over the suspension bridge in Savannah the final time. I remember trying to imagine my mind as the city itself - a gridded topography teeming with all perspectives. Don’t be one thing, I kept saying. I remember trying not to be bitter, trying to choose something other than regret. I remember thinking: ‘almost nothing ends.’ I had one CD that I’d bought the night before - Ryan Adams and the Cardinals. It was an impulse buy. I liked the packaging. I went from listening, to singing along, to sort of screaming it out over the course of 13 hours on the road. Here is a line from “If I am a stranger” that used to get to me.
to tell the truth 
it’s hard enough without a lover
who you want to hide your darkness from
so they won’t let you down
When I was younger I assumed that any internal dialogue was darkness. I did a lot of hiding, emotionally I mean. Hahaha. Still do. Heh. Save it for the art where it can do something maybe! It would be nice, reader, if right now you could imagine a drum build up and symbols crashing here… very softly, compelling not cheesy. Thank you for that. 
I remember Luke saying ‘the thing about Francis Bacon is that, he’s great, or whatever, but you can’t learn anything from him.’ Luke has a British accent so this sounded really authoritative to me. 
I remember laughing with Zach when I heard that the old pope was starting a twitter account and thinking about the person who was ghost tweeting for the pope. I remember asking where I should apply to be the ghost writer for the holy spirit.
I remember reading this article about Antonin Scalia, and thinking ‘insane people are in charge of everything.’ 
Once, when I was young and still being dragged to church on Sundays, my mother said as an aside, “well the church wasn’t really in the clear during world war II. There are definitely some embarrassing things about the record on that.”
Neutrality is complicated form of embarrassment. 
I remember Dan Harmon saying in an interview that as a young man he was angry with people for not noticing him in the corner choosing to be the quiet one.  
I’m feeling that sharp flash in the little folds of a soft gray mind. I’m feeling the sting of getting at something right before my phone buzzes and pulls me into another frame. I’m ready to sling some words, some paint, some poetry at this thing, whatever comes. I hope I know when to quit, I’m thinking. I’m telling myself, get cold man, take a pose! I’m telling myself what a goddamn snowflake this moment is. I’m telling myself to melt before I smack the goddamn ground. Here comes the end of something and the start of something I’m gritting my teeth and all that’s left is the hashtags… I battled with this iQuit painting for a while. You can see some of the stabs at it above. It’s done now- I’m quitting with it. A good way to tap out on a painting is to donate it. This is going to Artwalk’s Coaltion for the Homeless— It’s a nice event that I gave work to last year. 
I remember sloshing to that party during the first snow storm of the year. It was the kind of snow that’s heavy in the sky but melts instantly on the ground. It’s the kind of snow that works very hard to appear snow like and then burns out on the effort of being snow by the time it makes it to the ground.


I remember feeling stupid and helpless and sad for no good reason, standing alone before anyone I knew showed up. I got there aggressively early and didn’t want to go in and started walking around SoHo, staggering in a kind of sentimental recall. I remember the first time I came to New York and walked through SoHo, thinking ‘what do I do here if I don’t want to buy anything!?’ I’ve been here for 8 years and I still don’t have an answer to that. 
Inside the auction everything was elegant, tope and dark brown with candle lights and appetizers more shocking and well appointed than the art. I remember actively trying not to think very hard about the ‘good’ it was doing or what that means lest I dissolve into a pool of shame. A woman came up to me in a neon dress and told me that she only collects text-based works and my first thought was “why?” Sales is not my thing. 
I remember the first time I heard someone talk about Gerhard Richter’s Table painting. It was a grad student in Alexander Hall back in Savannah. He was adamantly pointing at a coffee table book saying ‘yes, he gives up, but look at how he gives up… in just the right way!’ 
I remember driving over the suspension bridge in Savannah the final time. I remember trying to imagine my mind as the city itself - a gridded topography teeming with all perspectives. Don’t be one thing, I kept saying. I remember trying not to be bitter, trying to choose something other than regret. I remember thinking: ‘almost nothing ends.’ I had one CD that I’d bought the night before - Ryan Adams and the Cardinals. It was an impulse buy. I liked the packaging. I went from listening, to singing along, to sort of screaming it out over the course of 13 hours on the road. Here is a line from “If I am a stranger” that used to get to me.
to tell the truth 
it’s hard enough without a lover
who you want to hide your darkness from
so they won’t let you down
When I was younger I assumed that any internal dialogue was darkness. I did a lot of hiding, emotionally I mean. Hahaha. Still do. Heh. Save it for the art where it can do something maybe! It would be nice, reader, if right now you could imagine a drum build up and symbols crashing here… very softly, compelling not cheesy. Thank you for that. 
I remember Luke saying ‘the thing about Francis Bacon is that, he’s great, or whatever, but you can’t learn anything from him.’ Luke has a British accent so this sounded really authoritative to me. 
I remember laughing with Zach when I heard that the old pope was starting a twitter account and thinking about the person who was ghost tweeting for the pope. I remember asking where I should apply to be the ghost writer for the holy spirit.
I remember reading this article about Antonin Scalia, and thinking ‘insane people are in charge of everything.’ 
Once, when I was young and still being dragged to church on Sundays, my mother said as an aside, “well the church wasn’t really in the clear during world war II. There are definitely some embarrassing things about the record on that.”
Neutrality is complicated form of embarrassment. 
I remember Dan Harmon saying in an interview that as a young man he was angry with people for not noticing him in the corner choosing to be the quiet one.  
I’m feeling that sharp flash in the little folds of a soft gray mind. I’m feeling the sting of getting at something right before my phone buzzes and pulls me into another frame. I’m ready to sling some words, some paint, some poetry at this thing, whatever comes. I hope I know when to quit, I’m thinking. I’m telling myself, get cold man, take a pose! I’m telling myself what a goddamn snowflake this moment is. I’m telling myself to melt before I smack the goddamn ground. Here comes the end of something and the start of something I’m gritting my teeth and all that’s left is the hashtags…

I battled with this iQuit painting for a while. You can see some of the stabs at it above. It’s done now- I’m quitting with it. A good way to tap out on a painting is to donate it. This is going to Artwalk’s Coaltion for the Homeless— It’s a nice event that I gave work to last year

I remember sloshing to that party during the first snow storm of the year. It was the kind of snow that’s heavy in the sky but melts instantly on the ground. It’s the kind of snow that works very hard to appear snow like and then burns out on the effort of being snow by the time it makes it to the ground.

 major victory

"big, colorful, and in a strange place" 

nobodysdiary:

thedustyrebelMacaron, Sculpture by Daisuke Kiyomiya, DUMBO, Brooklyn. More photos from the DUMBO Arts Festival.

Okay, wow, sheet shapes are impressing me to death- what am i doing with my life, oh no

davemorin:

MIT Architecture

(via davemorin)

Eluding cynicism is a privileged hobby, and for some people it’s a life. I went to Burning Man this summer. I tried to stand outside of my basic social posture and look at my fellow man in childlike wonder. It was in fact wonderful. 

Eluding cynicism is a privileged hobby, and for some people it’s a life. I went to Burning Man this summer. I tried to stand outside of my basic social posture and look at my fellow man in childlike wonder. It was in fact wonderful. 

Eluding cynicism is a privileged hobby, and for some people it’s a life. I went to Burning Man this summer. I tried to stand outside of my basic social posture and look at my fellow man in childlike wonder. It was in fact wonderful. 

Eluding cynicism is a privileged hobby, and for some people it’s a life. I went to Burning Man this summer. I tried to stand outside of my basic social posture and look at my fellow man in childlike wonder. It was in fact wonderful. 

Eluding cynicism is a privileged hobby, and for some people it’s a life. I went to Burning Man this summer. I tried to stand outside of my basic social posture and look at my fellow man in childlike wonder. It was in fact wonderful. 

I met this cinemaDographer named Yoda. He shoots with a GoPro. Seemed chill.