You Are Champion.

You are none other than champion!

Restless for the wind to move,

in motion,

in reverse forwards,

being still, for the sake of language,

You ramble, often

looking inward for conversations about gladiators or men,

or separation of complete false manhood,

America,

Gaps of common,

misuse of parenting or childhood- be it as it may, 

the artist creates moments on canvas to 

express,

remove,

regain,

rebirth,

Remember now,

You are none other than Champion!

of will,

or relentless moving on from the difficult,

you raised yourself on cereal spelling and

pages of scribble text dictionary words,

David Bowie was father,

“Crawling down the alley on your hands and knee

I'm sure you're not protected, for it's plain to see

The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees

Hunt you to the ground they will, mannequins with kill appeal”

Diamond Dogs were mother,

“Come out of the garden baby, baby

You’ll catch your death in the fog”,

Dip your hair below,

in the water with gold fingers,

it is time for the Wild Man to surface,

despite all despite’s

or just because’s,

Remember now!

You are none other than Champion! 

...Ty Clark

If My Body Were Paper and Bones

“An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's.” ― J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

Today I started a new body of work that is titled "If my body were paper and bones", all of the pieces will be painted on paper.  Before I began this new journey I created a playlist consisting of Max Richter, The Black Atlantic, The Helio Sequence, Peter Broedrick, Birdy, TV on The Radio, The Lighthouse and the Whaler, M83 and Sigur Ros to bring my ears to ease with the world.

I began to tape paper to a piece of plywood to create a flat surface so the paper doesn't warp to bad and to create edges or a frame to the piece.  My head started to choose an ocean of color for my brushes, knives and fingers Peter Brodericks "I Am Piano" began to fill my studio (from the It's Starts Here album) and I was immediatly wisked away to someplace else.  My imagination took hold of my senses and as I felt the paper I began to wonder about our bodies, our lives here on this earth.

We are merely flesh and bone.  Our bodies are broken, torn, weathered and fleeting.  My mind was picturing self as paper, a scultpure of paper and bones.  As Peter Broderick sang "I am Piano", I played a flim in my head, (transformation):

...(as film flickers apear on the mental screen) my body is now paper, a figure mashed together with pulp that has dried over time, easy to tear, bending when wet, unrecovering from fold.  I moved with the sound and was pressured by the wind, soft and peeling at the edges.  Movement was difficult yet flawless, as momentum set in wrinkles from folds began to manifest across this figure, clean yet stained.  A journal written, yet erased, scratched out, but pages adding by the minute.

(Back to now)

If we were paper and bone could we tear off a sheet when we needed to start over, or would we continue to try and create something beautiful out of the mess?

This is my mind.  This is my world.

[vimeo=https://vimeo.com/35333323]

To View this body of work please visit http://www.samo4prez.com or http://www.etsy.com/shop/samo4prez?section_id=12457081

The Night Feeding Me.

"Art is the elimination of the unnecessary." Picasso

I just walked into the studio tonight, Sept 11th, with a mild Austin heat already causing me to sweat upon entering.  An hour prior to the perspiration I was creating a playlist on Spotify, as I always do (no always on Spotify), creating a play list to paint to that is.  This late evening holds the sounds of The Helio Sequence, Rogue Wave, Pinback, El Ten Eleven, Faded Paper Figures, Say Hi To Your Mom, Boy & Bear, and We Are Augustines.  Of course I took a few self-portrait pics and studio shots for instagram posts at some point tonight or tomorrow morning and now I am encompassed by paint, string, canvas, brushes, pallet knives, paint rags, pictures of Andy Warhol and Jean Michel basquiat (that hang in my studio), a show flyer for William Catling from 9-30-1997 that always inspires and encourages me while I create.  William Catling was a professor of mine who had been a major inspiration to myself as an artist and aspiring to be one.

What lies ahead for tonight I do not know.  I have three pieces to finish, two on wood and one on canvas. My color pallet for the last few weeks has consistently been addicted to gold, blue's, grey, black, white and a mild pink.  I can not seem to escape what these colors seem to be doing to me in a mentally arousing mix of hues.  I have moved forward from my stencil work that has brought me mild success over the last few years and felt led to take a few risks entering back into abstract forms, strokes and flow.  Leaving all things figurative behind.  I have felt the urge or the need to move this way for the last year, but with success in one style comes fear and a lack of change.  I truly belive that as an artist in any medium if you do not take risks you will never grow as an artist.  I also believe this to be true about life, but that is another story, for another blog, another conversation.  Tonight I paint. "A Good artist has less time than ideas. "  Martin Kippenberger

Impatient raging.

So, there are specific days that jump out at me every now and then where emotions seem uncontrolable. Days where the only refuge is found in a blank canvas, paint and brushes.  Well, today is one of those days and escaping to my place of solice is just out of reach.  I have returned to Austin, TX (home) after being on the road for an extended time and I won't have a space for 3 more weeks.  I could feel everything building from the moment my eyes opened and my head lifted from my pillow, I tried to fight it and distance myself from the impatient rage building inside.  After 36 years I should realize that I can't hide from who I am or how I was created.  So I went to find a quiet place to write, listen and be.  At least until I can calm down, relax and exit a few tears and thoughts.

Here is the music that is filling or drowning out every other sound around me into oblivion:

Active Child: You Are All I See, Curtis Lane

James Vincent McMorrow: Early In The Morning

Nathaniel Ratliff: In Memory of Loss

Wise Children: Absince & Reunion

Ugly Casanova: 180 South Soundtrack

Timber Timbre: Creep on Creepin' On

City and Colour: Little Hell

Sbtrkt: SBTRKT

The Jezabels: Dark Storm, She's So Hard, The Man Is Dead