Mission Statement: I’m a comic artist, but feel more comfortable by making illustrations as opposed to comic books. One drawing tells more of the story than countless pages of comic strips. I hope my art inspires people to create their own stories…
Most of my work is dedicated to Miss Satan, a character I created few years ago. She’s circus and burlesque artist and she produces her show anywhere she can. I’m really influenced by folk tales and nonsense, which is why Miss Satan is surrounded by animals and characters from folk tales, and few human beings.
I love drawing freaks. Most of the time they look ugly, sad and defenseless, they some kind of Pokémon to me (one day I will create a collectible cards game with all of them).
I’m really influenced by my environment. I was born and raised in a little city in the countryside of France (far from big cities), the type of place where marriages are celebrated between cousins. I know that I have consanguinity in my genes – that’s certainly why I draw freaks — but I’m still very attached to this place.
Alexander McQueen, ‘l’enfant terrible’ of British fashion, is having a truly global moment.
As some of the most famous people in the world gathered in outlandish creations for the Met Gala, which this year celebrated the opening of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s McQueen retrospective (Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty, which has attracted 46,000 visitors in its opening week – a Met record), it was hard for a dedicated follower of fashion not to wonder what its namesake would have felt about all this attention.
graffiti noun : (1) a key indication of poverty, language of the people, costly vandalism, the most prevalent medium of art in the world, landmarks for violence, an expression that transcends the false constructs of race, and yet another segment of black culture to be appropriated, and at the same time demonized, by the white majority in America. (2) unauthorized writing or drawing on a public surface.
Growing up outside east Denver, I remember helping clean graffiti off the side of the church my family attended. It was back soon after we tried to wash it off the first time, and the second. After a while, we stopped doing anything about it.
I didn’t always like graffiti, but it always interested me. The act of carving one’s name on the surface of something physical, in secret, somewhere someone would see it someday – it’s primal, but a sign of self-reflection, intelligence even.
Back in my post about Emerald City Comic Con, I highlighted Rexa a monster pornography art book by Jason “JFish” Fischer, and hoped I’d be able to preview some pages from his upcoming work. Well, Fischer was kind enough to send me a couple pages from a book he’s debuting at the Stumptown Comics Festival in Portland this weekend called Junqueland written by Robin Bogert. He says the story is about “a couple of monsters having tasty fun in a bakery.”
So . . . yeah. Check it out. Shit’s crazy, and as far as I can tell, about some dinosaurs fucking, but it’s probably much deeper than that. Or not. Whatever. Who cares, it’s rad.
This week I’m featuring artistic shit out of Portland, Oregon – the best city in America, but don’t fucking move here because it rains for eight goddamn months out of the year. Oh, and by the way, I hope you have a master’s degree and several thousands of dollars in savings, because the only thing a bachelor’s will get you in this town is a part-time job in a coffee shop as a barista-back to a thirty-three year old with a villain mustache straight out of a silent film, who has, apparently, been studying the art of java and thrift-store shopping since he was sixteen.
REVOLUTIONS came to the People’s Republic of Los Angeles on Saturday night, with the opening of an exhibition of album cover-inspired art from Shepard Fairey.
The decidedly anti-elitist celebration, held at Robert Berman’s C2 Gallery at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica, was free – as were the Singha beers, which were being liberally distributed to the packed assembly.
The party spilled out into the parking lot, where a sound system and stage had been set up. Dan The Automator and Fairey took turns spinning tunes from their laptops, but the show was stolen by Metalachi, a mariachi band that plays heavy metal classics.
On paper mariachi metal sounds so wrong, but live it was so fucking right. Who knew that songs culled from the catalogs of AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, Dio and Judas Priest would sound so damn good topped with a sombrero, Mexican style.
