Just finished it.

The lovely gervasius made a post the other day about this new photo process called Through The Viewfinder, or TTV. Basically, you take an old camera viewfinder as a filter to get new shots through. You build contraptions with which your newer camera goes through the old viewfinder before setting up the image you're shooting. It really inspired me to research this whole idea and practice, and this morning I went downtown to take some new photographs. I've spent the last three hours or so on these 15 to get them looking more like I had envisioned. Click on each image to open it in a full size window. Let me know what you guys think!

Much love, respect, and thanks to gervasius for the idea, and to Yellow, Christi, and Sara Claire for inspiring me yesterday when I needed it so badly.

I've been playing with Photoshop CS2 and my new brush sets. Each title is a link to the full-size (1600 X 1200), high resolution desktop. Hope you like.

The shame of rape and molestation is like being locked in a room full of roaches feeding on you - this post is a light turned on in that room to make them all scatter, big heavy combat boots to stomp them to death, and a flamethrower to keep any of them from getting out alive. I'm taking what is mine out of that room once and for all and setting fire to it when I leave - then watching it burn and getting on with life. I decided a long time ago that I wasn't going to be a victim OR a survivor, I was going to be angry and let anyone that needed to know it know all about it. No holding back, no mercy, no apologies. It's the only thing that keeps me from tearing myself apart sometimes. I don't recommend it to everybody, but that's my thing.

I wrote this two years ago after creating a piece of artwork that I was afraid would kill me if I ever tried to do it. It proved just the opposite, it made me better for the pain of its labor. I got a random comment to that original post last night from someone claiming to be an old friend of mine that has been looking for me and was sad when I disappeared from her life. I've reached out to her to see if it really is me she's looking for, went back through some of the comments to that post, and in doing so have realized the power of this thing - the story, the artwork, and how it all resonates with people. I have made several new LJ friends since this was originally posted, and decided to repost it for two reasons. First, it is a good way to really get to know and understand part of who and why and what I am. Second, I know what my worth is and I know that I am a good man who never does anything to hurt anyone, and if exposing this much vulnerability will be a catalyst for someone else to help heal themselves up or at the very least feel less isolated and alone in the world, then it is worth it.

DISCLAIMER:
I realize that there are going to be those people who will look at all of this and think "Comment Whore" or "Attention Whore", which is fine. Think what you want to think about me, I support your right to think whatever you choose to - but fuck you just the same. Actually, motherfuck you. This isn't about you and it certainly isn't for you, it's for the person who reads this and is moved enough to try and complete their own journey of suffering and try to put it to bed. It's for anyone who knows anyone that went through something similar, to help make them a more understanding and better friend. It is for anyone who thinks it is important enough to point out to others and say "here, I want you to read this" - and provoke others who may not ever hear this story otherwise into closing the circle on all of the isolation people like us are cursed to live in. Link to this post, email links to everyone you know, post links in communities and on message boards, and wherever people will be encouraged to read it. For the record, I don't mind the comments and I DO want the attention paid to this post - but only so it can be a healing thing for someone else.

Here is the original post, (dated May 28, 2005):

"Be my good boy now, and I'll take you to get ice cream after..."

That's what he would tell me, he would take me to get ice cream if I didn't cry and if I never told anyone. Can you believe how lame that sounds to me now? That's what he told me when I was 10 years old and it started, to the best of my memory which is pock marked and moth eaten at best. I never got to pick my own flavor, he would always buy me a single scoop of strawberry in one of those nasty cake cup cones. To this day I will eat neither strawberry ice cream or cake cup cones. A few years ago I was offered strawberry ice cream, and it never occurred to me that I would have any adverse reaction to it. As soon as the spoon got in my mouth, I gagged and ran outside to vomit, which I did violently. I cried the whole time, realizing what that taste had come to represent to me. So no more strawberry ice cream for me, ever.

This post details more personal information than I think I have ever shared on LiveJournal before, and it will have graphic moments and might make you regret reading any further. I make this post public because I no longer care who knows about this kind of thing, keeping it to myself and the choice few who already know about it has always been part of the problem. Perhaps this might serve to help someone in the same struggle.

( Cut for content - don't say I didn't warn you... )

Today I decided to start a new piece for my En Abstraktia series. This one actually does have a title, I have decided to call it "Good Boy". It was created in the spirit of a violently angry little boy that lives inside me, so betrayed and hurt and angry that I rarely ever see him. I never thought I could ever help him, but I decided to let him take over this particular piece. And he did. I'm much happier now that I let him do it, too.

So for anyone who has ever been hurt like this or ever felt betrayed or victimized, this is for you. If you are the parent of a child, let this be your wake-up call for an opportunity to have discussions with your children. It is estimated that 70% of abusers are someone that both the child and parents know well. Feel free to link to this entry and pass it around, post about it or whatever - I don't care. I make this post public because I think that art SHOULD imitate life and it should provoke and inspire on some level. I think it should be shared, and though I don't normally explain these pieces, this one was too personal not to. Thank salenelle for that.


Series: En Abstraktia
Title: "Good Boy"
2005

I made some new brushes, got some new stock pictures, and framed out new palettes. These are the first pieces in the series, which is called Myopiate. The first three manipulation treatments are behind the cut.

I am really tired of not feeling well. Just putting that out there. Also, I've been working on photocards for Post Secret, figured I'd go ahead and put them out here. They were made by myself and lolasenvy, with inspiration from the muse(s). Here are the first 4. I know, not much of a secret if I'm posting them here, yeah yeah yeah, shut the fuck up. ( Read more... )

These are pictures of the purse I made to benefit my friend Christina, who is very sick and needs help. It is currently available for bidding soon in auction: bid here If you or anyone you know would be interested in it, please let them know. It is a one-of-a-kind, custom hand-made item and would make a really awesome gift - plus, you'll be doing something really great for someone that deserves it and needs the help in a BIG way. If karma and cool points aren't enough, just buy it anyway - I'm not above having money thrown at it for no valid reason at all, as long as the family gets it and lots of it.

Background on the purse:

Dimensions: 9.5" wide, 2.8" deep, 5" high. It was made from 2 years worth of fashion desigher ads in Vanity Fair magazine, for which I have a subscription. I cut the ads out and decoupaged them to the box, which is made of pine and stained Graphite Gray. The handle is wine colored, open woven, triple chiffon ribbon, with silver bead accents. There are ten coats of varnish sealing the outside. It weighs approximately one pound.

This is one of my basic designs and I sell those for $50 -$75. Custom designs start at $95 and go up according to the buyer's specific design requests.



If you'd like to know more about Christina, click here.

"Be my good boy now, and I'll take you to get ice cream after..."

That's what he would tell me, he would take me to get ice cream if I didn't cry and if I never told anyone. Can you believe how lame that sounds to me now? That's what he told me when I was 10 years old and it started, to the best of my memory which is pock marked and moth eaten at best. I never got to pick my own flavor, he would always buy me a single scoop of strawberry in one of those nasty cake cup cones. To this day I will eat neither strawberry ice cream or cake cup cones. A few years ago I was offered strawberry ice cream, and it never occurred to me that I would have any adverse reaction to it. As soon as the spoon got in my mouth, I gagged and ran outside to vomit, which I did violently. I cried the whole time, realizing what that taste had come to represent to me. So no more strawberry ice cream for me, ever.

This post details more personal information than I think I have ever shared on LiveJournal before, and it will have graphic moments and might make you regret reading any further. I make this post public because I no longer care who knows about this kind of thing, keeping it to myself and the choice few who already know about it has always been part of the problem. Perhaps this might serve to help someone in the same struggle.

( Cut for content - don't say I didn't warn you... )

Today I decided to start a new piece for my En Abstraktia series. This one actually does have a title, I have decided to call it "Good Boy". It was created in the spirit of a violently angry little boy that lives inside me, so betrayed and hurt and angry that I rarely ever see him. I never thought I could ever help him, but I decided to let him take over this particular piece. And he did. I'm much happier now that I let him do it, too.

So for anyone who has ever been hurt like this or ever felt betrayed or victimized, this is for you. Feel free to link to this entry and pass it around, post about it or whatever - I don't care. I make this post public because I think that art SHOULD imitate life and it should provoke and inspire on some level. I think it should be shared, and though I don't normally explain these pieces, this one was too personal not to. Thank salenelle for that.


Series: En Abstraktia
Title: "Good Boy"
2005