"October Statement (2015)"

I’m an art guy. I suppose I also qualify as an “artist,” having shown my monsters in fancy buildings with other art humans’ arts, but none of that really means too much in the grand scheme of things. What DOES mean a bunch (to me) is that I love to make junk. I draw pictures, sometimes on paper, sometimes on cardboard, sometimes on computers and other electronic devices, and I paint things—-sometimes with paints, sometimes with digital effects. The process isn’t that important, as long as the “finished” bit looks pretty cool or funny or creepy.

I’m not that picky. I come from a punk / comic book / kids’ books / cartoons / bad horror movies / good horror movies / science fiction anythings / avant-garde / anti-art / shamanistic / atheistic / skeptical / psychological / symbologicalistic approach to making art. I’m self taught, although I’ve read about and studied the BIG figures quite a bit. I love to read biographies of weird artists and watch documentaries about the strange things that weird artists sometimes do. And I’m pretty old (older than most people probably thought I was destined to live, considering my rougher, younger years.)

I’m not sure if any of this means anything to you “art looker-atters,” but it’s where I’m coming from, and it might help to explain—-at least a tiny bit—-how the things I call my “art” can possibly be considered “art” by anybody (besides a crazy—-or really lazy—-person.) I like imperfection. I like “noise” in my work. I like Dada and Art Brut and punk and outsider art and conceptual art and mistakes and silliness, and I’m pretty sure these influences and preferences come across pretty easily, if you know to look for them. Now you do.

Watch out for monsters! And have a nice night…


Richard F. Yates

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