I want to share with you some of my early work. Perhaps this will put to rest questions about what inspires and motivates me. Or it'll further confirm the idea that any hack off the street can be an "artist." To your left, is a drawing of what remains as one of my favorite establishments till this day. I'm pretty sure you recognized upon first glance, that it's the 7 Eleven located on South 11th street by the 280 overpass. I grew up on the other side of the freeway so this was a daily pit stop, this one or the one off of Keyes near Happy Hollow, Belen and I would alternate 7-11's determined by the slurpee flavors made available and/or what store had her Mom's favorite scratcher ticket. This sketch is page one of a laminated salmon colored white piece of yarn bound publication titled "Things I Love About My Mother." Being the little saucebox that I was/am the caption under this superealistic cityscape probably read "She buys me things!" I was SEVEN, quit judging. Plus there were some other entries in there about her as a person, really deep, more reflective stuff, wait for it. But hey, shaaaoooo!!... check out the perspective, the detail of the shingles and the glass door reflection, nombre... no wonder I pursed art. ;)
Other evidence of my artistic apititude can be seen here, the aforementioned title's cover, a snapshot of our then living room a.k.a "my bedroom" -you'll find out more about that later, don't get ahead of me. Alright, I'll just tell you now. I didn't want to say anything but I didn't even have my own room until I was a junior in High School, prior to that I part-timed between the bunk bed in my brother's PAULA ABDUL wallpapered room and the sofa bed on most nights to get out of harms a.k.a my brother's way whenever any of the following sport teams lost.. Raiders, Lakers, Kings or the Dodgers. My mom was a hater too, she wouldn't even let me put up pictures of heartthrobs Tommy Puett or Brian Bloom in the sala (living room). I can never do NOTHING! Anyway, back to my "early work".. I think the best part is the angle from which I drew it. If drawn from life this would have put me inside the wall, or in the my brother's bedroom, seeing as the tv was flush up against it leaving no room to discern the labyrinth of input ouput, coaxial cables, RF connections and cable descramblers. Kids are all hip to computers at 18 months or whatever, big whoop, I was fiddling with cable connections in second grade. I'm a home taught trade school drop out, you don't learn how to program the VCR to record your Mom's novela, Cuna de Lobos or that weekends Chavez fight at school-school. This is the kind of practical shit you need and use forever, it makes you invaluable. Not like the times table and learning about the earth's crust. Boo!
Here's another sketch from the same book, here I'm blatantly LYING, first of all, who am I kidding? I'm Mexican, the only language spoken at home was Spanish. My mom would have never said "Good Morning" she still shys away from using her limited English, only busting it out for emergencies (like fires, pleitos over people cutting in line, SERIOUS shit only) or if no one that she knows (including me) is around. That's why she had us kids, so that we'd translate everything for her. "Mija, dile que si no nos da nuestro deposito les voy hacer 'SUE', dile!." Furthermore breakfast in bed? Staying home from school? Hahahaha. School was our babysitter, we couldn't NOT go. And like it was at all possible that a.) We had a food tray "venganse a comer a la mesa cabrones!" b.) That my Mom would serve up what appears to be a pomegranate(?) for breakfast with some freshly picked daisies ( we had a cemented lawn) in a vase for decor. You and I both know the variety of the most important meal of the day was limited to HUEVO CON TBA (to be announced). Nice try at assimilation though, Mits (that's how I address myself, "Mits" ). I blame my castle-building on The Cosby show, Who's the Boss? and Family Ties being at their crowning point, where else would I learn about normal family behavior to try to pass off as my own. And DAMN! Couldn't old boy, Mr. Holmes (my second grade teacher- cue every kid in our class at one point greeting him with "WHAT UP HOLMES!?!") have got on his job and spelled checked, help a lil sister out, I mean.."Home SWEAT Home." That shits devastating. Its not like Mom and Pops knew the difference but you know big brother Mario wasn't gonna let it slip. "You're stupid Mitsy, home SWEAT home!" DAMNIT! Scarred for life, mira, scarred fooor liifffe! But I guess, it's not like I worded Mr. Holmes up on having his psoriasis checked out or what kid hid his crystal light during the intense heads up seven up match. Fair is fair.
Finally my biography, this is from a different book, my sophmore release, "Georgie Goes Bananas" I never got around to scanning more pages from it. This is on my website somewhere, so it might be old news for some. But take a look see, I was redundant even then. I NEVER get down with the percussion, i know thats what you're wondering, and I'm not sure what constitutes for being an "artist" anymore. So, depending on how you look at it I'm either 1 for 2, or 0 for 2 on reaching my career aspirations. I should have aimed lower. :)
But now I blow kids out the water, see for yourself in this side by side comparison. On your left a drawing of Superman by my 5 year old young nephew Victor, to your right MY drawing of Superman. I mean sure he's got the S curl going for him and word on the street is "Bad drawing its so hot right now" but his poportions are all wrong. I win.
Other evidence of my artistic apititude can be seen here, the aforementioned title's cover, a snapshot of our then living room a.k.a "my bedroom" -you'll find out more about that later, don't get ahead of me. Alright, I'll just tell you now. I didn't want to say anything but I didn't even have my own room until I was a junior in High School, prior to that I part-timed between the bunk bed in my brother's PAULA ABDUL wallpapered room and the sofa bed on most nights to get out of harms a.k.a my brother's way whenever any of the following sport teams lost.. Raiders, Lakers, Kings or the Dodgers. My mom was a hater too, she wouldn't even let me put up pictures of heartthrobs Tommy Puett or Brian Bloom in the sala (living room). I can never do NOTHING! Anyway, back to my "early work".. I think the best part is the angle from which I drew it. If drawn from life this would have put me inside the wall, or in the my brother's bedroom, seeing as the tv was flush up against it leaving no room to discern the labyrinth of input ouput, coaxial cables, RF connections and cable descramblers. Kids are all hip to computers at 18 months or whatever, big whoop, I was fiddling with cable connections in second grade. I'm a home taught trade school drop out, you don't learn how to program the VCR to record your Mom's novela, Cuna de Lobos or that weekends Chavez fight at school-school. This is the kind of practical shit you need and use forever, it makes you invaluable. Not like the times table and learning about the earth's crust. Boo! Here's another sketch from the same book, here I'm blatantly LYING, first of all, who am I kidding? I'm Mexican, the only language spoken at home was Spanish. My mom would have never said "Good Morning" she still shys away from using her limited English, only busting it out for emergencies (like fires, pleitos over people cutting in line, SERIOUS shit only) or if no one that she knows (including me) is around. That's why she had us kids, so that we'd translate everything for her. "Mija, dile que si no nos da nuestro deposito les voy hacer 'SUE', dile!." Furthermore breakfast in bed? Staying home from school? Hahahaha. School was our babysitter, we couldn't NOT go. And like it was at all possible that a.) We had a food tray "venganse a comer a la mesa cabrones!" b.) That my Mom would serve up what appears to be a pomegranate(?) for breakfast with some freshly picked daisies ( we had a cemented lawn) in a vase for decor. You and I both know the variety of the most important meal of the day was limited to HUEVO CON TBA (to be announced). Nice try at assimilation though, Mits (that's how I address myself, "Mits" ). I blame my castle-building on The Cosby show, Who's the Boss? and Family Ties being at their crowning point, where else would I learn about normal family behavior to try to pass off as my own. And DAMN! Couldn't old boy, Mr. Holmes (my second grade teacher- cue every kid in our class at one point greeting him with "WHAT UP HOLMES!?!") have got on his job and spelled checked, help a lil sister out, I mean.."Home SWEAT Home." That shits devastating. Its not like Mom and Pops knew the difference but you know big brother Mario wasn't gonna let it slip. "You're stupid Mitsy, home SWEAT home!" DAMNIT! Scarred for life, mira, scarred fooor liifffe! But I guess, it's not like I worded Mr. Holmes up on having his psoriasis checked out or what kid hid his crystal light during the intense heads up seven up match. Fair is fair.
Finally my biography, this is from a different book, my sophmore release, "Georgie Goes Bananas" I never got around to scanning more pages from it. This is on my website somewhere, so it might be old news for some. But take a look see, I was redundant even then. I NEVER get down with the percussion, i know thats what you're wondering, and I'm not sure what constitutes for being an "artist" anymore. So, depending on how you look at it I'm either 1 for 2, or 0 for 2 on reaching my career aspirations. I should have aimed lower. :)But now I blow kids out the water, see for yourself in this side by side comparison. On your left a drawing of Superman by my 5 year old young nephew Victor, to your right MY drawing of Superman. I mean sure he's got the S curl going for him and word on the street is "Bad drawing its so hot right now" but his poportions are all wrong. I win.
No comments:
Post a Comment