Postwar Prewar and the Depths Veiled

The ides of March. Postwar. The responsibility of the artist; the infamies and atrocities of the antichrist. There was a moocow coming down along the road. Prewar. Pompous intellectualism and complicity of the esoteric. Drivel. Meaning. This, that. Fuck me. Fuck you. Veil the depths, as it seems as though I belong to another species. 

Postwar Prewar, 35" x 29", oil on canvas, 2013.

The Depths Veiled, 24" x 48", oil on plastic sheeting, 2013.

Doodle of the Day

The courthouse in Los Angeles can be a place to find funny characters. I had to go to court yesterday, and several lawyers were waiting in the hallway before the courtroom opened. One lawyer in particular caught my attention. Wearing a colorful tie, he talked and talked loud enough for everyone to hear, going from one lawyer to the next, seeming to be very comfortable in this environment. He strutted around like a rooster as if he owned the place.

But the confidence he exuded in the hallway vanished once we were in the courtroom and the judge called his case. The papers the guy filed must've been below par, as the judge saw right through his peacocking act!