Back in the hoary, distance past, I was once a serious Artiste who was dedicated to surrealism and abstract expression. I wanted to bring a Jackson Pollock sensibility to my comic book storytelling, and a Dali-meets-the-Marx Bros. sensibility to my writing.
Eventually, I grew out of my need to freak people out. However, before I’d reached my creative zenith as an abstract artist, I created this unbelievable piece of work. I actually wrote a strange Dadaist poem in gold and black ink on the raw art board before I started laying on the many layers of found objects and acrylic paint. It took me several months to complete, and it was the second-to-last major painting I ever completed.
I kept it mounted in my apartment for years, hoping I would one day find a safe way to store it, or alternatively, find the right home for it, as it was a very tricky piece to store, weighing a good thirty to forty pounds and being almost as large as me (I liked working in scale back then).
Sadly, it fairly recently met with an untimely end at the paws of my savage menagerie of domesticated jungle cats. It broke my heart to have to get rid of it, but the thought of actually trying to rebuild it from the scattered, crushed remains somehow hurt more.
I still regret letting it go, but I have the slight consolation that I managed to take one or two fairly respectable high-resolution photos of it before it was damaged. Sadly, neither of the photos are a substitute for the real painting, or at least a professional photo session. Perhaps one day I will buy myself a print to hang on my wall, in memory of an extraordinary piece from an unbelievable time in my life.