shananigans of the past week or so.

This week basically is serving as a 

platform for me to get back on my feet and 

do some long overdue work. As well as getting back into

gear with motivation and inspiration, you know, all the perks of an artist. 

This was at the David Shrigley exhibition at the 

Hayward Gallery SouthBank.

Drawn over previous life drawing, thought it was a funny quote I could 

def relate well with. The exhibition was funny and shed a different light on what art is and 

could be but def not my fav.  

prisma drawing of James, who I always mistakenly call Michael..

Shrigley's taxidermy. 

humorous ceramic pieces

a play on decay

cermaic men, gestural. 

Hockney at the Royal Academy of Arts. 

Secretly took this as nostalgic memories came flooding back.

Road trip with my pops while sipping our venti iced americano,

mine with three pumps of sugar.

Listening to classics and driving in the 'ghetto van', about to break down any minute, the 

thrill and carefree spirit never fails to leave an impression while 

treading through the desert, tumble weeds rolling by. Trying to win against time before the sun sets, 

driving at high speed, we get ready to take pictures, dad with his SLR, me with my NEX-5, the scene set

so surreal.. sigh sigh sigh.

and if your Korean, you must have been here about 1000+ times. asian tourist trap!

This was my collar, the worst thing any human being had ever created. 

Although it was an utter failure, hating wool now, it might have been a good wakeup 

call that I can be an utter fuck up. The pressure loosens a bit when you

except that idea, well for me at least.

trying to mold with wadding.. gah.

anyway ill class never fails to give me freedom, trying to make out a pose with black tape.

pasteling Lan's givenchy fur jacket.

so everything I do, as a draftsman, is line work and line qaulity, the fuck up case of the

collar set me free to do something I never thought of doing again. Being a child and getting messy with oil pastels, a medium

I've always hated. I don't know how I feel about it but it sure did loosen my stress with vigorous attacking motions to paper. Yee haw.

Again, big strokes, less lines. can you tell I'm searching for myself?