This Dark Modern Abstract portrait of a dark angel encased in a dark shadowed background carries with it both a message of dark and light. The vibrant reds and heavy brush stokes accent this piece.Painting is 9″x12″ on Canson.
Available here on Etsy: Encased
This modern Abstract portrait of a man is entitled “Scarborough Fair” making reference to a traditional ballad of Great Britain where in a man asks his former lover to perform a series of impossible tasks before he will take her back. This portrait is 9″x12″ on 1/2″ thick canvas. It is the ORIGINAL painting.
Available here on Etsy: Scarborough Fair
Cherry Martini 5/11/12
Each night I come home, I ring the bell, and I scream out the word “SANCTUARY” I cry and shout and hope to make it true. I yearn for the softness and the silence, I yearn for something to be true about it, I yearn for truth in one word. One sad word that god only provides for safe houses, and mine is not one. The door may be locked but it will open if you forcefully desire it to do so, if your will is so strong and your mind is weak you’ll find yourself bearing false witness here. What you seek you’ll never find behind that door. I am floating, a magnetic charge attracted to the negative force that wills me near with each failing hour. “I am” are far too dangerous of words for me. “I will” are dreams for all who fail in trying, fail in doing, and fail in succeeding. A thought is knocking, waiting patiently for me to answer, but I deny it, it is the truth, and I will let it wait in the cold, it is honest and will not try to force its way through my door, it will not reach beyond my mind and escape my lips, not here, not now… if ever. I am driven to desire by madness. I am driven by pain to forcefully pursue it in the night. I stare blankly at my door, I drag my knuckles across the wood, and whisper hopefully and forever more “Sanctuary…sanctuary” Is there such a thing as peace?
A Dream -Cherry Martini Entry 8/20/2012
Forgive this, forgive this truth in epic fear, transition in truth in sun dance peace. Where are you now sweet twisted truth. I am bitter in sadness. All I want is truth just give me some, give me this one peice of bread, our daily bread, where are you my jesus my savior or have you lost me in all this. I want and that is a word that decieves me, the difference between the want and the need. Where are you? Deception. Where are you? dead mass of wonder. Is this reality when all you can do is sin, meet where sin is not, and I can’t deny you. I say “I am not alone, we are not alone, we are not one in this strange madness” where has it all gone when we meet this sad state. You mistreat me with words and I am sainted in martyrdom. I hang my truth and madness on a cross and nail it to my heart. I see you there in the deep crimson sadness, and you drip truth, you drip it like humidity hanging on a window pane. I hear the drops tapping into my sorrow, and there is danger in this, there is danger in your truth because I dont live there, I live inside a mind that is frought with madness and you can’t live there. Please pull me out, bring your hand through the darkness and lead me out, or let me drag you with me. I want truth, ancient truth, unexplainable truth of which there can not be. Where have you gone? Please answer me through the darkness, out stretch the pain, see through it. Use your night eyes to bring me past this, please use your gray to see me past this black, for in darkness those are the only shades I see. Use your shades to bring me out into the dawn. I want dawn… but there in lies the trouble between dark and light, and the shades only blind me, so blind me now and let me never wake from this long and serene dream. For if I dream let it be where dreamers lie,and liars only know the truth.
Photographer Travis Haight 2012
Cherry Martini 5/22/2012
I’m writing you this story on the back of folded paper notes. Notes that came from childhood oragami scraps, tree pulp hearts and squinted swans thick with graphite. These words fall off the page from torn edges making every sentence an abbreviation of what my minds’ eye see’s. I want it to be better, I want to hold onto the things I’ve lost and am loosing everyday as I watch time slip away. I feel it all like a lump in my throat sometimes the ailment and lament of a time that slid silently through my fingers and was gone before I knew it. Everyday is slowly slipping into a memory and I can’t catch each one as carefully as I’d like. “I miss you,” I write, “I love you”, I draw the “U” into a smiley face and realize that I’m writing it to a man that is long long gone by the hands of God and taken up by the wind. I’m writing to myself, I’m jotting down letters to no one. I am desperately trying to find peace again, I am desperately trying to move myself back in time while being hurled forward into a predestined destitute uncertainty. We all stand together and alone, holding hands and shoving, pushing small daggers through the heart wondering when was the last time I’ve been there, when will it all happen again, who can I trust? When will this all stop and begin again? I’m waiting to wake up, and it’s not easy when your mind is fast asleep and you heart is tender.
So I fold this note again, tuck it deep behind a mirrored window that see’s the fold across the vastness as I stand between it and the rest of my days.
Posted from Tumblr: “In 2009 I did a photoshoot with the infamous Terry Richardson at the Chateau Marmount in Hollywood. This was by far the tamest photo of the shoot. I am always left wondering how amazing is Terry Richardson really? Most of the photos that where shot that day where taken by his assistant, because (if you notice) in many of his other shoots he’s actually in the photos. So where do we find a line between fame and talent. Can anyone become famous at anything with the right spin? Does it all depend on where we came from? Who we know? In my opinion I enjoy Terry’s work, it’s why when he pulled me to shoot with him I was ecstatic, but looking back now, is Terry’s art more about his photography or his ideas? Does it matter?”
I don’t want to sip time slowly, I want to drink it down and swallow it with maniac spit and soul. I want to devour kindness and replace it with a turning hold, like carousel seatbelt love. I want to ride my white horse down to the river and drown it sometimes, for the simple act of being inhumane. I want to shock my spirit into raw existence. I want to tenderly meet you in the middle and hold your hand like I hold my breathe when I experience something beautiful.
Laugh or cry, its all the same to me, it’s an explosion created from a feeling that I have no control over.
I can hear my heart beating… everyday it jumps wildly from my chest and spills out my mouth, or through my hands and I heave dry words, that the masses obtain and make their own. My mind gets me in trouble, its writing checks right now that my ass has no interest in cashing.
I place my middle finger over my mouth in an effort to quiet myself but become consumed with the gesture and speak more on it’s crudeness than it’s thought.
Some mornings I break the birdsong out my window with screaming, I interrupt the beauty and I try to bring the day to a hault before it can begin, but it continues anyway. Keep turning great blue ball, keep hurling yourself through the infinite universe… well played my friend, well played.
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Why don’t you just…. and you can’t you just… FEEL IT! Deep inside like a pulse driving hammer to your rind, it’s a mad and desperate attack on your beliefs. Do you hear the crackle of your un-ending reasoning coming to rest? Truth cares, truth reacts, truth stifles itself with dark tongues braided in the winding wind. Truth spirals and is lost in it’s own purity on the reprehensibly insane. Someone said “you are too far gone” I am just scratching the surface. Dignified I put on the rescued mask and hide the thoughts I dare not speak. I drink in too much thought, I put down too much passion on paper only for you too ball it up and keep it as a spare for your imagination to snack on when your drunk, or desperate. Are you there yet? ARE YOU THERE YET? where have you gone, a heartless recipe for the scars you’ve burdened on others and the smoke you’ve taken in on your own. Don’t choke, you are not too far gone. Your struggle is extraordinary, your hurt is unique, your pain is as real as your mind can make. Pain is pain, but suffer no more and focus on reality, shift your perception and you can change the world, if you can change your mind, you can start a fire and light the world ablaze. A soft, warm sultry glow that will illuminate till the end of time. It’s in your mind, you are your tyrant, you are your king, you overseer of your psyche, and no one can take away your rule.
If I could resolve to make words into actions and light their way with dull chromed headlights I would.
I would paint movements in the night, spasms of the heart, the sharp flailing motions, like those that jolt you from your sleep. My eyes shift and I open my lids, unpealing eyes of gold and green speckled with flecks of sorrow and polished with a sweet glaze. I dare slide the membrane back across them and be surrounded by darkness once again.
I am nothing more than an ordinary frame, thats lost its way in mean streets. Bruised and battered with the shaping hammers of time. What form have you made me into? What mishapen face has time given away to. I am a beast, a growling, howling, might, that forces it’s way through brush and thicket finding its pace in the unforgiving air.
Sleep, Sleep, sleep, force it upon you, force it to come, like some long widowed rape victim untouched by human hands in years. A confused enjoyment and an unsettled smile as hands creep and crawl beneath the layers or lace, past places long forgotten and last touched by only loving hands.
Where is he now?
Sleep, Sleep, and release the past, fall into only sweet dreams. Awake refreshed, renewed, awake as someone else and find yourself again, find yourself each morning and let the nightmares of past fall away, let them drape behind you like a long silk train. Give in to temptation, slide your arms around yourself. Become, and don’t stop becoming until you reach your finality and conclude in perfection, embracing imperfection, and letting out a loud and guttural laugh at the madness that brought you full circle and back again to life.