Pages from My Composition Books, Volume 5
You didn’t ask, but the trait about me for which I’m most grateful is that, even on my darkest days, I laugh at least once. I don’t just kind of smile, I mean that I audibly laugh, even while alone. Life’s inherent absurdity and ridiculousness never fail to strike me as funny.
My drawings often mirror a similar dichotomy, blending an overall somber or dark tone with moments of levity and humor. This is partly intentional, but my hand also just seems to involuntarily possess a peculiar tendency - especially when depicting the human form - that imbues my drawings with some sort of WEIRD quality. To about half of my viewers, this manifests as humor.









I’m able to turn this “skill” on and off. If I ever need to draw somebody elegantly and with no ridicule, I’ll do it. But I don’t like it.
Call me crazy, but when I look at art, I prefer to see depictions of people in a less-than-flattering light. The last thing I want to see is classically “attractive” people with perfect skin and cool clothes donning high-fashion haircuts. That just doesn’t move me.


But when I observe the distinctive facial features and overall awkwardness of Mike Judge's "Beavis," I am filled with overwhelming emotions because there is something unnameable in the way he is depicted. It evokes a strong sense of nostalgia, making me yearn for people and points in time I never knew I missed from my past in Texas.

When viewing human portrayals in art, I hope to be stirred enough to ponder the human experience as embodied by everyday, imperfect people simply trying to endure another day on this frustrating planet - and perhaps even find a moment to laugh.











I still love the “Sweatsuit Guys”. I can still remember the first time I saw them.