Viewing entries tagged
Death

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Vultures...

In High School I fell in love with the works of Edgar Allen Poe. I realize that's not particularly unique as many high schoolers identify with his sort of reality. Somewhere in me that same sort of intrigue exists. The vultures are testament to Poe's influence on me. To look at things that are dark and relay them to the world. And the hope that is within that is not to shock people, but to engage people and challenge culture.

I was writing a Poe-esque fiction to follow along my vulture theme and to co-habit a space with this image above. Like Poe I wanted to create a space that drew the audience out of the words and into the story. To feel the talons of the bird, and smell the stench dripping from the end of its face. Unlike Poe I have a tendency to be contrived and reaching. Poe had an ability to over embellish and yet simply tell his story.

Vultures are shadows in the sky. Searching for the dead. Coveting the diseased.

Vultures are death-eaters and life-bringers.

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Death Eaters

Below is a taste of a project I am working on dealing with resurrection. It's about life and death, sacrifice and selfishness. 20111103-093542.jpg

These little guys are 5x7 acrylic illustrations. Each is a small grisaille- initially painted in gray scale then covered in colored glazes. They are part of a myriad of similar sized and themed paintings that will be hanged together to tell a story.

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Andrew Millette...

  Click here, or on this picture to view Andrew's obituary and guestbook where you can share experiences and condolences.

 

Andrew Millette was my roommate, my friend, and my brother. When I moved to Atlanta in January of 2010 he took me in. I was living in a house in home park with four other guys, but Andrew gave me a place with heating and an adequate bathroom.

We spent most of the first few months plunking on the ground with our ice-cream filled bowls, and marathoning MASH.

We talked about church, and community, and girls, and failures, and love, and wisdom, and relativism, and soccer, and politics, and we prayed.

He is still my example of how to live in the world, to love people, to give humbly and graciously, and to love life.

Death is a dreadful thing postponed.  It is final, but it keeps me waiting for the moment when I realize my heart has been rend from my chest and filled with the hollows of lost time. It has already flooded my mind and pounded my heart, but is waiting for my eyes to succumb to the torrents of the storm.

A dear brother is gone, and missed. I love you Andrew.

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I’m reminded of the time when my van was stolen. Andrew didn’t speak he simply moved toward me and hugged me. At the time the hug wasn’t warm and welcome, it was cold and awkward and I didn't understand, but now I know. He was looking beyond life and death, into eternity, and saw that I needed a hug.

Also, he ate really really loudly, and I never told him how much that made me want to put a stake through my skull, and I'm glad I didn't.

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