i could write about it, but this really says it all. you can join the discussion on ig.

( vomit noise :)

also, new work out friday. or maybe monday. if you are reading this, you will be the first to know and get the link.

happy thursday to all. you got this.

kent.

hi. i’d like to apologize to the class please. i lost my way a bit and have been looking in the wrong place for the validation i admittedly, desperately seek as a creative.

the, “air quotes,” “art world” does not see me as worthy of gallery wall space. i am more often than not left off the invited list to “the big art shows.”

i have spent the last 20 years trying to validate and be accepted into this world. i really really wanted it. like a bowl of lucky charms already poured, only to realize the refrigerator is empty of milk, and i am in no mood or state to make a cow juice run.

i am embarrassed to admit that i was climbing a never ending, often broken escalator in a deserted shopping mall, attempting to reach the next floor - not really knowing why i had even snaked through the parking lot and walked my tired legs inside.

i have grown bitter. my skeptical side was the number one seed in the tournament.

but, that is just the middle part of my story.

i am actively, daily, choosing to define myself as an artist in the way i have urged others to. i am artistic in how i create and follow my own way of doing things. my canvas. my texture. my colors. my words. my way of showing the world.

i’m kent, and i am human. i am on a mission to solve your confidence problem with love, words of affirmation, and fuel for you, the underdog.

things may look simpler around here. i’m using the filter that pushed me to compose color and compliment with words even before i gathered the small amount of confidence to share my work from the very beginning.

i will worry less about finding the famous and known to satisfy my validation needs. i will spend more time on ways to encourage and remind you that you got this, that opportunity hides vigilantly behind hard damn work - and that the best gift you can give yourself is to find out what happens when you don’t give up.

go. i’m with you. you got this.

we got this.

tell me. . . what is in your way to finding out?

-kent

a letter to me, the 15 year old kenT who has no idea what is ahead of him from kenT the coach, the dad, the artist formerly know as kenT the 15 year old.

these random thoughts are composed in no particular order.

stand up straight. be confident in your speech. those who you are standing next to currently will always know your name and who you are, but will not necessarily be the one’s shaping your life in the future. their opinion of what you are doing, wearing or excited about does not matter.

be a beacon of light for those who need it. be firm with those who build themselves up by poking at others. helping others will help you more than you know. the cool kids end up not being the cool kids.

where you go to school (college) does not matter. how you attack the reason you are there does. learn. work. put everything into why you are there. volunteer / intern in the field that you want to be in. hang around. soak in knowledge.

as an athlete there will come a time in your not so distant future when you will say, “ i should have.”

“i should have run more in the summer.”

“i should have juggled and gotten more touches on the ball.”

“i should have put the controller down and gone outside.”

you will never get those chances back. but someone else is out there running and taking those touches. and taking your spot.

you have what it takes. after seeing those that quote “made it,” or played in “big time” programs, you can make it.

never be afraid to do things in a different way than others. everything has a different answer other than the obvious one.

be that guy. be the guy no one knows about until you show up. and when you do show up. show up. take over. be a force. win. shake hands. walk away.

work until they remember your name.

work until they can’t make a plan without you.

work at everything. not just the skill. not just the fitness. but the why and the where. develop a knack for being at the right place at the right time – every time.

eat better.

but enjoy mcdonalds + chick-fil-a while you still can.

say thank you to your mom and dad.

keep your room clean.

acne will eventually go away.

learn to tie a tie.

learn to separate white’s from colors – but for your laundry only. everything else should be blended together.

open doors for girls. they like that.

say “thank you,” more than you think you need to. especially when you get married. say “thank you,” and “i’m sorry,” and “you were right”. say them often.

no matter where you are – learn to be present and accounted for.

believer it or not, you will carry a phone in your pocket. keep it there. it doesn’t need to be in front of you all the time.

learn things just to learn them.

get a job. not for the money, but to learn how things work. learn how to work with people – learn that not everyone has the same values, beliefs or priorities that you do.

the world changes fast and everything you seem to need will be at your fingertips, but really it is all just the same. do unto others as you would have them do unto you. . .

success is the sum of small efforts repeated day in and day out.

even though you won’t understand why or how or ever really believe it, know that you have something god given that influences people. use it to lead.

someday you will get to be in charge of a group of kids about your age. take advantage of that. don’t just teach them how to to kick, where to run and how to score goals.

teach them that the assist the important statistic.

teach them that they can do more as a team than as an individual.

teach them that following the path of everyone else is just a looping circle to no where.

teach them that it is only different or stupid until it works + then everyone will start doing it that way.

teach them that inviting an outsider can improve them all together.

teach them that girls can play too.

teach them to stand up for each other.

tell them often you are proud of them.

tell them individually that they are each an important part of the team.

so 15 year old kent – know that there are some really good times ahead. listen to your teachers, your coaches, and yes, even your parents – soak it all in.

enjoy three more years in high school. when coach ben bellman slots you in at right back for a varsity scrimmage, win your first tackle. knock the senior on his butt with the one after that and then enjoy the next three years.

have fun playing in west virginia. it’s hotter than heck there.

when your last game is played, and after all the practices, the training, the time that you spent dreaming about what would be next and you never get to see the field that night – and it doesn’t end like you dreamed – you will sit in a dark spot until everyone else leaves. no one will see you and they will lock the gate. you will have to climb the fence and walk the few block back to campus alone. you will always remember that feeling.

don’t forget it.

don’t ever forget it.

it will drive you for the rest of your life. never again will someone else control what you do or what you can be a part of. no one else will write your ending. it will teach you to teach and to coach – and what that means and what an impact you can have on those around you.

embrace that.

15 year old kent.

and make it your life’s goal to never. ever. never say i should have.

if i wasn’t an artist i’d be a dancer

and if i wasn’t that i’d be an astronaut

with a really thick helmet

or a cowboy with a brim

but if i wasn’t that

i’d be a teacher,

yes, a teacher

or a singer with a sold-out arena,

everyone shouting my name

and also i’d be a scientist

or detective

but if not that i’d be a pilot

and an architect

and if i wasn’t that I’d hammer roofs

and sell shoes

And serve sandwiches in a corner shop

or I would bang on wall street

and diversify portfolios

and I’d coach soccer to teach a better way

And use things the way they’re unintended

and tattoo birds on my arm

to fight fear

and do all the things that matter

because if i wasn’t an artist

i’d still be an artist

written for me by a friend.

take me to the sale dude

i would love your help. if you have a friend who would love a little wit, a little love, or something to keep the going on the walls of their home, office or secret lair - please forward or just tell them to check me out at here.

thank you. i appreciate you.

this is my space. and this is your space

i believe everyone can use a moment of expression without consequence .

that like plants, people grow with care.

words. mistakes. layers and late nights are my moments and tools of conversation.

lets find yours here too.

rules

the energy in the spaces is contagious.

i will grant you the trust i reserve for established friendship here.

it’s all real. from the conversations on canvas, the words i write on the walls and the want for connection.

it is all intentional.

thank you for holding what i do cautiously but honest and firmly.

please ask questions.

and yes, i like plants.

please. stop in.

it’s utah. soak it all in. really.

i would love to surprise you with how your body can experience a space.

i will answer all the questions.

but before you ask,

does it matter the inspiration? the method? the cost?

let it do all the talking.

my brush is a hypnotic trap to invigorate, intimidate, and often contemplate the moments used by the mixologist of our favorite playlist.

golden hour for the win.

1264 s state rd 32, francis utah 84036

give yourself permission to let yourself go, and try something new, sans judgment. i promise there will be non from me.

all start with a blank canvas -

finish with a framed confidence - reminding you - to trust you.

THE DETAILS. . .

the details remain fluid.

you and your family, or maybe it’s date night, paints something on a real deal art canvas.

use the same supplies as your host does everyday in the studio.

real artists snack and get thirsty. and since you will be that - the host has those too..

bring your phones, but there is a basket for them.

we also collect all judgment, self sabotage, over thinking, over thinking the over thinking, and all forms of “i can’t even draw a stick figure.”

just the phones are returned.

ATTIRE. . .

dress like a beckham, but try to smell like charlize theron. if you like, the host can provide the martha stewart apron.

PRICE TAG. . .

$2,500 gets you a large canvas (think too large for your back seat). said size painting fetches much more on the gallery walls, and you will end up with exactly the same.

YEAH, BUT WHAT IS IT. . .

paint, chill, watch the five star sunset while you paint and see what you can make out of nothing. the array of supplies and works of art in progress, left in various stages around the studio marinate ideas.

you are immersed in an environment that is not offered to many by artists who often thrive in exclusivity and secret. see it all, be a part of it all.

estimate setting aside between one and two hours to paint something that means something to you and the ones you are with. and here is the cool part. . .

leave it at the barn with me. we will chat while you paint. give me a couple of weeks and the canvas will arrive at your door as a ready to be hang painting for your home, office or even your secret lair that we have created together.

this is a you and me project.

LIMITED SPOTS AVAILABLE

confidence gained, estimated retail value? confidently speak’n brah - pick a number and double it.

SECRET LOCATION

1264 s state rd. 32, francis, ut 84036.

NEED A RIDE FROM THE AIRPORT . . .

you will not be the first, but will be treated as if you are.

and, i got you.

rsvp here - please include name, favorite gas station drink or snack, one or two colors that you keep seeing everywhere you love and anything else that would help you let yourself go.

i am looking for the ridiculous. to do ridiculous tasks for a ridiculous person -

who really needs help - it’s ridiculous at it’s most ridiculous.

i am. . . in search of a human who is a beautifully detailed as a pantone color match, and quirky enough to understand the soul of something.

i need someone who understands a bit of web building, a lot a bit of ad strategy, and has ideas on ways to cover more than walls my poetic paintings.

my work, and my words are a ridiculous love story for merchandising.

wait, what are you looking for?

i am looking for someone to build, manage, and handle a website similar to this example here.

i can not pay you a salary or an hourly wage. (i know, ridiculous)

i can promise that if your words are true, that my effort will be the same, and we will split what the ridiculous pot at the end of the rainbow collects.

work from home, or wherever and whenever you work. just get the work done. i am ridiculously generous to those that help me.

i don’t need your resume, but i do need to see something you have built and have the ability to explain why it worked and how it aligns with my ridiculous project.

and since we are going for that word i have used to much. . .

i’d love this savant to assist me in making sure that,

this here substack newsletter is current, followed and growing.

• i know the most important things to do for the day.

• painting may always trump the most important thing of the day.

• i get to paint and not have to handle most of the most important things of the day.

if this is you, green means go.

i am riciculous

if not, it can also mean sharing is caring. (but i’m not sharing you.)

Share

either way, thank you for sharing a few ridiculous moments with me.

and remember. . .

IT’S ONLY RIDCULOUS UNTIL IT WORKS

oh, and the i painted too much sale continues this week. use code TOOMUCH at checkout to save 40%.

take me to ridiculous salethe sale

add wedding venue to the gallery off site date night studio meet up writer’s camp yoga + sound bath wood shop, also known as, “the barn.”

and in an effort to make it look like it does in, what i am now calling, my boutique movie short, way of thinking; i painted too much.

so. . . i’ve traded a few out at romy on main street if you are in park city, and for anything that is on the site and in the studio is at a . . .

Read more

it took less time for noah to build the ark, but i finally have a wayfair shop that i manage and offer a few current paintings as canvas prints.

so, in a way, i do.

they may not my mostest favorite things everer, but they can be a great introduction to poetry and painting, or a way to stage a home, enhance a gallery wall or gift to someone who needs to be reminded that they are worth it.

click, press, or maybe finger (bad word choice) here

and find similar links for

home goods

and wallpaper

send me a note and let me know which current paintings you would love to see as a print?

i’m a thinker and an over painter. and that is all i want to be.

i paint permission to believe in jesus’ love, just maybe not the church version.

i paint permission to risk and believe in yourself.

and i paint the unexpected beautiful moments in life we find while chasing fall down, crazy stupid love.

but for the platform pulpits of instayou, facetube and the tacky clock, i’m out.

i spend sleepless nights trying to make work that matters.

i think i do a decent job of that. i’d like to do even better.

on the grams, the work does not matter.

i spend more time juxtaposing schematic ways to show authenticity, show behind the scenes, show the work, sell the work, make you feel something and let you know what’s happening at the barn.

and the work suffers.

and most importantly, i suffer.

so, i’m out.

i’d write more, but your thumb is already twitching.

i’ve left ways to find me in the bio.

pro tips… use email, not dm. and text before you call, but i do want to chat.

the barn … also known as the gallery off site date night studio wedding venue meet up writer’s camp yoga + sound bath wood shop is yours to use and visit.

it is designed is a haven for you to be you. no labels. no politics no judgments. promise. please stop by.

hours are…

monday - maybe

tuesday - saturday 11 to ?

sunday - also maybe.

text 704.533.1831 to turn maybe into yesbe or to inquire about using the space for a meet up, yoga studio or to host your next small event. it’s magical.

i’d love for you to remain my friend and sign up for my substack newsletter (if you have not ) where i will launch new work, announce events and let you all know how i am still still on a mission to make the walls or your home, office and hopefully your secret lair as f’ing fantastic as you are.

my website will be where to find me. find the work.

i feel better already. thank you. i love you.

see you on the other side.

oh, new work is on the site ands more coming soon.

Share

i have a lot to say about the new work. but i need to get it all on the site first.

each piece comes with a story.

many celebrating the hurdles we jump over. especially the ladies. they for sure have way more obstacles in their line than i do.

if it helps you get the front leg over the hurdle before you swing the other around, use code ALLOWED at checkout for 20% off it’s value. why? i really don’t know.

but there you go.

hey, you got this.

-kent

use code PAID at checkout!

Read more

it’s a risk.

i’m scared. i’m pretty much always scared.

yet, i’m all in.

and seemingly always close to all out.

but i will wake up every day and risk. i will write the story. i will choose the words.

i will choose which case the letters are. every day.

i will choose the color and the texture. every day.

today however, the story is somewhat sad and lonely. the disney dogs are not homeward bound.

i am trusting that this is the middle of the story, and that soon there will be a plot twist - an adrenaline shot of energy that propels frantic and chaotic progress.

i need a little help to keep me going.

the anvil is quite heavy and not easy to drag along.

i’d like to return the favor of you being part of my life by trying to be a small part of yours.

i feel like i know the rules, so begrudgingly, i’m going to break the rules (again).

so starting this saturday at 10am mt all original art work on

kentyoungstrom.com, or at the barn will be half of what i really deem its value to be. this will continue for one week.

all original art is included. i have also listed a few popular pieces that are sold out as “available” - i will paint something for you in a similar manner.

so wake up saturday with an attitude to destress with less and choose art over excess and invest in something worth way more than the even your favorite influencer might urge you to manifest.

use code ONEOFONE at checkout.

Share

i find myself about half in for most of those declaration decisions.

which means i am also half out.

and no - that’s not the easy way out.

i choose love. i’m attempting to widen my umbrella and love those who preach love, yer exude hate. i’m attempting to start everyone at 100% instead of zero.

my declarations are fluid and do not defined by influences or predetermined bias.

i’m already protesting. i’m just sometimes at both rallies on different days.

polls. preaching. media influence. trend reports are not the guide. bumper stickers maybe though - so powerful.

my stickers have all be goo-gone’d.

i’m putting down my affiliations, and picking up love.

i’m playing the shell game blind. i’ve exhausted my eyes looking lovingly to the left and aggressively to the right. it’s yet to end without either side being a loser every time.

i have paid the street vendor with my anger, my unfair protests and my vindictive heart. i am broken. but i am debt free.

my revival story starts now. my bank account at zero. but i will never write a check again.

i’m starting with love.

i can not. i will not have a headstone associated with anything associated with a group other than my family. wtf. i refuse to be remembered as a media projected stereotype that only exhibits phonetical portraits in the endless memory gallery.

i choose love.

i invite you to choose love too.

lets chat about what that might mean to me and what it might look like for you.

lets do that and celebrate the people you love february 13 or 14th here at the barn in kamas for valentine’s day.

its’s not an art show, its a conversation.

february 13 and 14 open 5 ’til late

1264 s state rd 32 kamas

kent@kentyoungstrom.com to rsvp.

i promise it will be the best place for a date on valentine’s or your money back. :)

you’re from chicago. “why are you all of a sudden steel faced cowboy, such a comma comma comma chameleon. “

sure, guilty as charged. but i call for a duel. high noon. town square.

see, i’ve lived the city life and loved most of every minute, been in the burbs and even in an odd industrial park. . . but i think i’m not just, “ west is best”, i am “small is besttest of all!”

i have what i need. it’s simple. slow. people use turn signals and drop off plant starters just because.

i get to see the drone view of whatever very split sides are debating - and realize, yeah, we need more - “i’m people, you’re people - lets put down or filters and create something together.

i will always be on a mission to cover the walls of your home, office or secret lair, but what i’m selling is actually self assurance that, yeah - i will find a way.

organically, my surroundings and the beauty of natures color palette has absorbed into the studio. and the studio, is really just an attempt to visually organize my brain.

so why the launch of a western line?

because i’m a sponge more than a shammy.

very similar to crossfit and canvas - when i started lifting and climbing ropes.

or the no risk. no story, line immediately after going all in on a barn i had not even stepped foot in.

i paint my life. i don’t necessarily want that to be obvious. but nothing is made up. i’ve strayed and tried to be one of the cool kids, or fit in with this club or that demographic - but that always sputters miserably. my work is what i wake thinking of, what makes sharing yourself in a relationship worth it, what someone believing in you feels like.

my work to me is nothing more than proving to myself over and over that i do not have to be beige. i root for the underdog because i am one too.

i’m a kid given no direction or encouragement that embracing a skill set not listed in the drop down menu is a. even possible, b. something you can do. c. is worth the emotional run through the gladiators “eliminator.”

i did it. and i is doing it. and i will keep doing it.

AND IF I CAN DO IT - YOU CAN DO IT.

cowboy up.

cowgirl up.

just wake up. get off the couch. show up on time, work your backside off. and surprise everyone at the rodeo with the work you have put in.

go.

-kenT

i am often asked if i sell prints. for a long while the answer has been, “not really, but you can find framed prints on sites like wayfair or randomly at homegoods.”

until now! after a bit of a struggle to get it going, i now have my own “store” on wayfair.

gallery wrapped canvas prints in various sizes can be ordered directly from me on wayfair.

my creative bucket is filled by painting new and seeing originals in the gallery -however i understand that sometimes for budget reasons, timing, or filling a short term need calls for something different.

i am excited to be able to get my work in more places to bring more smiles and encourage you to risk it for the biscuit and find out what happens when you don’t give up.

and ALSO, there will be a small line of originals available for the holidays! i will send out links and information when those go live!

and ALSO, ALSO - if you are a designer or a realtor and need to furnish a home or stage one for a sale, contact me for a bulk rate discount!

thank you for asking - i really want to make the wall of your home, office or secret lair in any way i can!

shop my store on wayfair

why the white?

when i am frustrated with a painting, i often basically just start over. i pull out the white paint and cover about 90% of what i have started. sometimes this happens more than once on a canvas. usually, those become my favorite pieces.

it was time to pull out the white paint.

i love what i have shown you over the past years. i’m not hiding any of that at all.

i just love a new canvas with and old sole.

so new white. feels right.

Read more

this is my new friend, he goes by squirrel.

i pass his place each day driving to the gym, or really anytime i go out.

recently, i was peculiarly comfortable enough in my own skin to pull into his driveway with painted nails, short shorts and my striped van a couple of weeks ago.

“hey, i’m kent, i have the art studio and gallery up the street. if you ever wanted any of your derby cars painted, i’d love to give it a shot and do it for you - just for fun, my treat.”

it took a bit for squirrel and his son to figure out if i was real or what they were enjoying was stronger than they thought. but, two days later a very very loud car pulled into the lot.

“paint what you want, it needs to say squirrel racing and have my F2 no. on it, and it’s being run at the largest derby in the state fair next weekend.”

i asked questions, i was curious, and i think squirrel will have the most unique derby car in the dirt.

thank you to my new friend for trusting a stranger with painted nails - it’s cool to know the people you live with. squirrel lost his job as a mechanic at one of the major ski operations here - so if there are any parts of the car left that we can cut off - i will put them on here and my site - and the $$ will go to his acorn fund. :)

enjoy your day underdogs - and remember, that you never know the answer unless you ask.

borrow the cataracts of the blind.

or follow

just to follow

the path more traveled by —

the trail worn by identical soles and souls,

who bleat to the beat

of the bandwagon.

i aspire to aim higher

than those who

bow to the idols of each other,

who hum hymns

and preach platitudes

and forget

the name of their Redeemer

as they step out of their Sunday best

and the cock crows thrice.

leaving the masses

demands payment in full.

estrangement

as a ransom.

for my betrayal to

the ennui of status quo.

nah.

i see your tricks.

i won’t carry the weight

of the plaids and khakis

whose mimicry in the concrete jungle

should be photographed

by national geographic.

“nature’s copycats,”

the caption should read.

fuck that.

i am the trend.

i will paint what i want - not what will sell.

i will use words but not to explain myself.

i won’t care what you think even though i really want to.

i will strive to make new things even when the best seller is popular.

i will wear slightly torn jeans and great fitting t’s past the age i am suppose to.

i will take care of my body just as well as i do my paint brushes.

i will push the line of acceptable art for your home.

life is complicated enough. so, like slightly ripped jeans and a faded t-shirt, i keep my paintings simple. i hope they make you look. i hope it makes you smile. i hope they make you fantasize just a little bit about jumping inside a being a part of them.

i’m sorry that art thinks it is smarter than you. than us all.

i’m sorry that art dresses up her enhanced tiffany tits and barney’s, brazilian lifted, back side and rambles on about her effervescence and coincided existence of form and function while at the same time pursuing a new lane into the juxtaposition of light, balance and color.

or whatever bullshit art is trying to say.

i’m not sorry you don’t get it - because there is nothing to get. no one gets it.

the only person who gets anything is the artist. with enough backing to hire a grant writer who chooses from a selective number of hashtag words.

fuck off art. just go fuck off and deep throat that banana you duct taped to the wall a while back.

we want art that reaches out and grabs us.

we don’t want to fill out a form, attempt to talk to customer service (which is overseas and responds with “this mailbox is unmonitored”).

we want to actually be a part of it all. we want it to touch us - someway, any way.

we want art for the people. where is the peoples artist?

so here i am - trying to fill a void. . .

i can be seen on minimally-listened-to podcasts, quoted in publications, and heard discussing with show-goers that my favorite part of painting is when i’m stuck – when i step back and contemplate if i’m done or if the piece is missing something – the part when i don’t quite know what to do. there is no better creatively climactic feeling than when i try something that works.

i’ve got it, I think. i’ve figured it out.

about six months ago, i was painting a group of pieces for a show to be held during art basel week in miami. for several weeks, my art studio had been an energy drink explosion combined with an attack on paint and marking pens. sitting in my studio rolling chair, i pushed back and sighed deeply. and i decided i liked where i was at. i felt like i had pushed the line between challenging myself and challenging those who look at my work to think. just think.

it was not middle-of-the-road. what i created actually said something.

in my excitement at the canvases stacked along my wall, i said to myself in a sing-song voice, “i know someone who likes you. me. me. me me me me.” in a furious moment of synchronicity, my thoughts came together: that’s it, I thought. the work is brilliant, but add a small line of pieces that say just that: “i know someone who likes you. – me.”

a new line of work was born out of a simple thought based on weeks of involved, arduous painting. painting that sometimes pained me and my psyche and deprived me of sleep. just like that, however, this work came so easily.

it was done. and it was my best. ever. and i knew it.

here is what they don’t teach you. in life, there is no grade. there is no warning. there just is. and here is how it is.

i painted somewhere north of 100 pieces to say what had been on my mind and in my world. i packed these paintings in the back of my sprinter van and have taken these paintings over 2,800 miles to many art shows (with bulk packs of energy drinks) from chicago to miami. i have hauled, lifted, repaired, touched up, stood in front of, talked about, posted up, meditated over, sweat at showcasing, and sage-burned all of it. all of it – with little to no validation of my process.

and it is crushing me.

i will smile and talk to you about it. i’ll gently push away your “what’s your inspiration?” question with a diverted and scripted answer about the process, doubling down that inspiration is for amateurs only because it hurts too much to give the honest answer that THIS is what has been stuck inside of me for far too long.

in full disclosure, there have been small moments of reward. i have heard validating comments and remarks about how creative these pieces are or how this work is the best at the show. i’m told often that someday, a particular person will save up just enough to buy a kent youngstrom original.

of those 100+ pieces, i have sold a handful. and i love that they are where they are supposed to be.

but i don’t know what to do. i have so many that i thought would be loved enough to be taken home by someone. to have my time, thoughts, and work exchanged for currency earned by someone else’s time, thoughts, and work.

but they are still here – in fact, they still sit stacked high in my van because i can’t physically take them out of their boxes one more time.

do i paint over them all?

do i burn them?

give them away?

i cannot live with them in my space. i cannot look at my wall and see – “fuck you, i am the trend,” when all my mind does is flip the words to read: “yeah, you thought you were the trend. you should know better; you were taught to save, not to risk. you knew you weren’t capable of being that big – you are more comfortable being small.”

i cannot read “pull me through the crowd” and be put back in the exact place where i knew i needed to turn that thought into a painting. i can’t remind myself of the hurt a painting can do (so assumed by many to be happy, flirty, and fun) that caused me to spray the words and stand in front of them.

i cannot lower the personal value of each piece and create some illusion that i’m not having a sale by having a sale. i sold a piece or two for below the numbers on the price tag, and to be honest, all i did was lower the value of the words on the painting as to the experience it was for me.

my work is my life.

yes – “all he does is paint words.” words are intimate parts of my life, and i’m guessing in yours too.

i paint stories in short verse form; i attempt to transfer the energy of my experience to you. perhaps i value that more than others – or more than others are willing to pay.

i don’t know what to do.

i might give them away.

and that’s where my painting brain has stopped for now.

so i’m pushing back in my vermilion orange, vintage herman miller office chair, the one a bit cantilevered and covered in paint, thinking – this is my favorite part, when i’m stuck – because on the other side of this is “i got it.”

i’m just not so sure this time. and that was over two years ago.

i have spent eight seasons of change since, flirting with canvas, dating various mediums and trying out all the tips and tricks i could find.

i have spent time perceiving the influence of social media and influx of artists all doing the same things, specifically at the time - established cartoon characters combining with easily accessible high end fashion logos.

my 7-11 brain was indeed always open - and most of the time it was angrily writing papers to submit to anyone who cared - that much like life, the art world was unfair, controlled by social media, boring and repetitive, or one hundred and eighty degrees the opposite direction, it was just a bunch of elites who i do not desire to associate with or view as the enemy, making and buying absurdity that i can not even pretend to understand or value.

so where was i to fit in?

i tried to protest, then tried talking nicely and make compromises, i tried pleasing both sides, then tried neutral ground - i contemplated succeeding from the artistic union and applied to be my own island - where everything would be right down the middle of everything. as i write each word i look back and think - dude, you think you are smart - you are not.

so what the fuck do i do now? i’m at the bottom - there is no funding for a new plan, a new marketing strategy, a new launch. the budget has not been cut - there is no budget. there is not even a knife to cut it.

all that is left is me.

i know someone who believes in me.

me. me. me.

it is time to be me. the human. what paved the way for me to be here, to have this problem. what drove me to keep going when i set up shop the first time and was awarded the blue ribbon for best booth - and sold zero pieces. who kept me from turning my art card in right there?

me.

who do people text when they need a pep talk?

me.

who taught countless futbol boys that there is another way?

me.

who convinced a national retailer that they could paint 300 paintings that sold faster than any other art they ever carried.

me.

who made something so cool the company creative director made a special call to say - “how do we work together, this is the coolest shit i’ve seen in a while?”

me.

who started giving art away and ended up on joanna gaines wall and in her magazine?

me.

who came up with a way nashville song writers could display the words that built the house the words no hang on?

me.

who gave away thousands of pieces of art during covid?

me.

who blamed people for not seeing his brilliance when he only presented things in coded messages?

me.

who decided that everyone but a select few choose easy and predictable because they are lazy, stupid, and unable to see potential or are too weak to be who they were meant to me?

me.

who wants to prove that he is the smartest one in the room?

me.

who thinks he knows better?

me.

who needs to go back and find everything that fell out of his man purse when he fell?

me.

who wants to help him find his reason?

his fun smirk that has been substituted for the off-brand, snarky, on sale version.

his i will do this attitude.

his validation for making someone believe in themself.

his i don’t need to compare myself posture.

his humanity that dresses his vanity. his vanity has been naked and running around the town square far too long.

his fuck you, i can do this too, to replace his fuck you, and you, and you, and this, and them and oh, go fuck yourself fuck you.

who wants to bring the box truck to scoop up and retrieve the scattered pile of validity he feels for helping someone.

i hope it is you.

i hope you still believe in me.

i hope you will still walk with me, behind me, or beside me to take on the thought that the little guy doesn’t matter, that there are no more underdogs, that only the wealthy win. because i am just like you.

i do not wake up every day and say i got this. i change my mind. i talk circles around what i know is best. i let money win. and fuck you, i hate myself when i do.

walk with me. call me out. hold my hand. tell me i got this. i don’t care if part of me is on your wall or not. i need help. i need to know i’m hitting the right buttons, and this is a difficult task. . . i am a validation pac man.

i need the dots.

could you every so often toss me a verbal dot? a “hey had a friend over, they loved glancing at my wall!”

a hey - “that saying you have hit home the other day, “

something along those lines.

i’m going dark for a little bit - i need to socially wake my feet through grass in a new landing spot. i need to ground my motivations, my desires, and my reasons behind my actions. i have no time table. but i do not think it will be long.

with this, i do not love the blackness, i love an evening with low light, soft sounds and a rhythmic cadence. if you would like to join me behind the scenes in the warm, yellow hued edison bulb glow, sign up for an array of notification, links, letters and lip stick colors i’ll be trying on to see what fits with my old attitude.

me. me. me.

i can do this, but only for a moment. i need you for the duration.

me - 4 points.

you - six points.

at least in scrabble, together we are a perfect 10.