Whose up for a trip to Amsterdam?

I´m getting the itch for some Dutch culture. After I go apartment hunting in Cadaques. I think next week I´m gonna head to Amsterdam for some painting, weed and xtc. Anyone want to join me? Doesn´t this picture make you want to get stoned? It does me... where´s my credit card. I´ll keep you all posted... just thought I´d throw out an invite to all my homies before I go.

Don´t Bogart that joint Humphrey!

Back in Barcelona

Spain is my favorite place besides Amsterdam. I will be here for a week or so. Then heading back to Cadaques to do a serious search for an art studio. I admit though occasionally I do get a little homesick. I miss my friends. I miss having a normal life sometimes. I really miss my paycheck and my kitchen.

Somedays I feel right on track. Other days I feel like ¨What the fuck am I doing here?¨ How did my life take such a dramatic change of direction? I thought I was going to start a family this year. Now I´m half way across the planet trying to figure out who I am. Huh? I definitely feel alive... I admit that. But taking everyday as it comes can be pretty damn scary. What will tomorrow bring? God only knows... hopefully a kitchen.

Anyhow not complaining. It´s just raining outside and I´m feeling a little gloomy today. That´s life... time to go throw myself into some art making... and get in the zone. Go away rain!

My Painting Comission

So these are the 2 paintings I was comissioned to do for 500 bucks. A very nice woman from Miami(if I remember correctly)... comissioned me to do them while I was painting on the streets in Marseille. I was praying to God asking him I was truly on the right track. Not more than 5 minutes later this woman and her secretary approached me and asked me to do these pieces for her. They said they were in their office and thought it would be really great to get a painting done for a dear friend. Then her secretary said she looked out the window and there I was painting on the street below. She told her boss, "there's a painter right down there on the street." The rest is history. I hope she likes them. Even thought I delivered them a day late. Pretty sporty for an artist I think. She's lucky she got them at all artists are the biggest procrastinators.

My French Girlfriend

Just kidding actually... her boyfriend is one of the art clubbers. But I told her I was gonna post her photo on my blog as my French girlfriend. At which point she desperately tried to delete this photo from my camera. I'm just putting this up here to make her cringe when she see it. As I'm sure she's probably checking to make sure I don't post it. she is quite a cutie though don't you think? Yum!

The Art Club

For anyone that is single and an artist. The best way to meet people is to draw or paint in public. If you are truly good you will never be short on friends. On this night I was drawing in the local pub. A group celebrating a birthday struck up a conversationwith me. "What are you drawing" Wow that's cool. As the night progressed I recieved free drinks. As they watched I asked, "Would you guys like to draw as well." That was recieved with great enthusiasm. Then like wild fire it became a midnight art class. What fun art is! Anyhow, later they drove me to a discotheque which a a heavy metal room. Awesome! I lost track of them as the night went on and met 2 Arab guys who smoked a hash joint with me and gave me a ride back to the hostel. One of them kept screaming "I love Cocaine!" Crazy adventure this is. Everyone should throw themselves at the unknown at least once in their life. Their are many interesting, sincere, and generous crazy fucking people out here. Everyone one of them thinks I'm supposed to be something. These guys kept telling me that my karmic energy was overwhelming and that they were sure I was in the process of changing the world. Maybe... maybe not. That's not important... changing myself is important... and I think that is in full bloom. I love this choice that I have made. My life is so much richer for this experience already. It makes me want to see more. Maybe Thailand or China... perhaps Egypt. How will I ever stop now. the nomad life is so fulfilling... I need to figure out how to make money doing this so it doesn't have to end. Note it's not all roses though I've spent 4 nights freezing my ass off while sleeping on benches with no blankets. I broke into a shed last night to get out of the cold when I missed the hostel curfue. Have incredible blisters on my feet. I had one stretch of no shower for 4 days. And washing clothes can be seen as a true luxury. I wouldn't trade it for the world. Where will I be tomorrow? God only knows... but my realization is that this planet is a tiny place with many good people and many bad people... but if you believe that "Love is all you need" you'll be quite fine.

My "Fab" friend

Let's just call him Fab for now. Anyhow I was staying at the Hostel in Marseille, and one of my room mates didn't speak any English. However, I was fascinated because he had a tear tattooed on his right cheek. What did this mean? I was intrigued to say the least. So I started to attempt communication. In a struggle over 6 days... I was able to teach him basic English. He taught me to understand French even though I refused to speak it. I think it's important for the French to speak English... since it seems to me French is a dying language. Anyhow... he was going through a divorce, had a 3 year old daughter, no job and no home. Over the next several days he conveyed his struggles to me. He had been in French Prison for over ten years, could not get a job or a new home because of his tattoos and past. Apparently, it is impossible to fire or evict someone once they've been hired or move into a place. I spent several evenings trying to calm his nerves after hearing him outside screaming at his wife over the phone. I could feel his anger. I knew this pain... I did not get the jist of what happened between he and his wife... and quite frankly did not want to know. I just tried to keep his spirits up. I gave up a few days of painting to wander the beach listening to him bitch in French and broken English. One of these days we happened upon a Quick burger(a French McDonald's) I asked him if I could buy him a burger. He said no way would he ever set foot inside a quick burger. Then the story began to unfold... when he was a teenager he attempted to rob a Quick burger. "Give me all your money!" The kid behind the counter said "We just dropped the night's cash in the safe. I don't have any money." At this point Fab raised his pistol and shot the kid in the face at point blank range. He did not kill the kid... but inhiliated his left eye... and pretty much destroyed his face. This is why he was in Prison. Later that night he rolled up his sleeves and showed me the most amount of scars I'd ever seen on some one's arms. He had attempted an escape over a razor fence and was unsuccessful. Wow what a fucking story. He was still angry at himself and French society for not giving him a second chance now. He said I was the only person in years to look him in the eyes and treat him like a friend. He was very generous to me. My shoes were quite smelly from all the walking. He gave me his extra pair of Nikes and a cool shirt he thought I'd like. I'm wearing both the shoes and the shirt as I write this. I gave him a painting... and many hours of my ear. For those of you that pray... give a shout out to your God for my dear troubled friend Fab. He is really close to the end of his rope... I hope he can find a less troubled road. He left the Hostel today because he ran out of money. But before he left he shared 2 things with me... first he showed me a bottle of Methedone(this is not a good thing) and the name he has given me... "Creature of Destiny". Cool name for my book if I ever finish it.

Tripping in Cadaques

This is a blog entry from my laptop... it is out of sync with the rest of the entries... but I finally have internet access to add it.

So in Spain men have to be men, except on Mardi Gras day. All the boys that strut around with male male bravado all year dress up like women on this day. It is a huge tranny fest. This became a problem for me... I ill explain later. Anyhow crazies, intellectuals, geniuses, artists, philosophers, drug addicts, hippies, musicians, and lost souls show up here in Cadaques. It is legal to smoke marijuana on the street. You can have 3 pot plants in your home. Cocaine, XTC, heroine, and LSD are easy to come by. I met a really cool Austrian guy that rides a yellow bicycle. The whole village knows this man. He is super cool... he is enlightened. Anyhow, people told me he was the king of pure LSD in the town. Well I thought "I have not done LSD since I was about 19 years old... what better place to try this again than Dali's home town" So I did. He warned me only to take half... but I took the whole thing anyway. Oh my... "hello God, how are you?" So when I started to come up I hung out in the bar that Dali and Picasso frequented. I warned the bartender of my situation and told him if I started acting crazy or was about to get mysef in trouble to warn me. By this time it was about 4am... so I started to talk to a local that was on something I was not privy to. He started to make me nervous so I politely moved from where I was sitting. About fifteen minutes later he showed up with his arm around one of his friends wearing a dress. Now I realize this was his best friend that he wanted to introduce to the new gringo in town... but I thought he wanted me to go home with him and his gay lover... so I said, "Oh... I'm ot gay... sorry." I thought that was the end of it. About 3 minutes later I turn around... he smiles at me... and then open hand slaps the shit out o me. He was obviously very offended. Then everyone started screaming at him in Spanish that I was tripping... I fled... but was followed by a guy who was kind of baby sitting me. He calmed me down in broken English and told me to stand on the beach and find some peace. I yelled at the top of my lungs "Where the fuck are you GOD?" I threw rocks into the ocean then covered my head with sand... "Where are you GOD?" He sat on the bench behind me cooly taking a smoke watching me freak out. He said he was god and i was god... but the devil lives in the village as well... evil lurks everywhere good lurks... so beware was his advice. He asked if I needed a ride back to my hotel to clean up. I said sure.

We jumped on his Vespa and headed back. I don't know how many people reading this have ever taken acid... much less pure acid... but a high speed Vespa ride in the dark in a european seaside village was one of the most exhilerating this I've ever done. the cobble stone and walls blurred past his streaming/shaking headlight. It was amazing. Something I'll never forget.

Anyhow, he dropped me at my hotel and dissappeared into the night. I haven't seen him again. I grabbed my jacket and strolled the beach and winding streets by myself. I found a secluded spot on a beach and watched the sun come up over the sea. It was at this moment that everything in the world was in complete harmony. It was at this moment I felt complete Love and Peace from the universe. I was in God and God was in me. My mind resonated in complete nirvana for what I estimate to be about 4-10 minutes. My path is crazy... no doubt... my mouth is sometimes more trouble than it's worth... if I could only be quiet... I would. But I can't. That said I'm not scared of anything, even death. My life is rich and full and am happy to be here now. I'm even happy for the slap in head.

Update: The last night in Cadaques the slap in the face guy and I become great friends. He introduced me to all of his pretty girlfriends... gave me a sofa to crash on and fixed me breakfast in the morning. I didn't even have to sleep with him...LOL. Before I left he said I could take as much Marijuana as I could carry in one hand out of his grocery bag full. I rolled myself a fat joint and called it good. I don't want this guy slapping me again(Better a slap than a punch though... he really could have knocked me out with a fist).

A man called "Big Sky"

Room mate number 2. A curious older fellow from Texas. Is this guy for real? I had my doubts at first. As the week progressed I began to believe this guy was not shitting me at all. One condition of me sharing his story was that he remain anonymous. He was a man of means with a big heart and a troubled past. His parents were killed crossing from France into Italy when he was 3 months old. He was adopted by a French man. Then ran off to the states with a native American guy that was friends of his parents when he was 7 years old. He is self taught self made and a motivational speaker. He stays in hostels to meet interesting and troubled people. He helps disabled folks at his home in Marseille. Has places all over the world and prefers tents to houses. He has worked with many famous people and is truly connected. When we toured Marseille together people knew him every where we went and he always brought a smile to their faces. A true comedian. He has helped inspired me to dig deep and figure out how I can help people with my story. He has even said he'd help me with housing in Europe and possibly seed money for a project that helps Americans like myself looking to discover themselves. He is a philosopher. We have a pretty good bond and we're gonna be traveling to Italy together on the train tomorrow. What an interesting journey this has become. I'm sure to add more about him in later posts.

Lost in Venice

There is a Labyrinth called Venice. I really could not orient myself at all. It seemed like every street ended in a dead end. I painted a huge goofy face on the street in the middle of the night. I probably would be in trouble if I were caught since I painted it in oils. It will be there for a while I am sure. Ooops. Not one of my better works. I then fell asleep on the street and was harassed by the police... I have been in hand cuffs twice so far on this trip. Good thing they did not know about my street painting... I am sure they would have probably thrown me in jail. Time to go to Florence... eventually I assume I will not be welcome on the planet. I think someone should commit me. Oh my oil paint supplies are at the bottom of the Grand Canal... long story... I am not interested in sharing. I think I might stick to the drawing for a while before buying more oil paintings.

I'm in Cremona Italy... Land of Violins

This is the town where Stratovarius lived. It is a beautiful little place outside of Milan. I've been drawing and writng a book lately... more than painting. I have about 12 blogpost that I wrote on my laptop that I can't seem to get my internet connection to work over here. As soon as I figure it out I'll post them all at once with a ton of photos. I finished my comissioned paintings for 500 bucks. She was very pleased. I have some of the craziest stories yet on my laptop. So keep in tune. Plenty of stories like the Acid trip moto scooter ride that ended in God somewhere... being slapped in face... the Jewish room mate who got drunk and shit in his pants at the Muslim boarding house(which I had to mop up while being scolded in some arabic language)... Or the French hostel roomate who apparently robbed a burger joint and shot a kid in the face... or the rich Texas philanthropist who has offered to be an Angel donor if I start a non-profit artist colony for americans to escape the rat race like I did... oh my... I am hooking up with an Italian girl tonight named Francesca... she is absolutely the definition of passion... crazy fucking chic... i hope she doesn't break me. She makes me seem quiet and shy.

Anyhow hope all of you are well. I have 2 new missions: stop people from jumping off of the Aurora bridge. And convince the pope to leave the cathedrals open 24\7. I think I'm gonna start a series of cathedral paintings... that all have a fence around them and a do not enter sign... which is what they all in fact do have. When I was sleeping a bench... I couldn't get into the church. Fucking ridiculous... "You can't cry here!" Screw that.

One more thing... "START LIVING YOUR FUCKING LIVES PEOPLE! TIME IS RUNNING OUT!"

Comissions... comissions!

So the woman I mentioned earlier comissioned me to do 2 small paintings for 500 bucks. Very cool. I am about half way finished. I will deliver them on Monday. I am probably gonna meet with a gallery owner Saturday morning to discuss the possibility of having a show... but it is hard for me to hang onto to 20 paintings(which I think is probably what I'll need). I am staying at a youth hostel just outside of the city center. Funny... it looks like most of the people staying there aren't youths at all. I am painting in the common area. It is a great conversation starter. Many requests and questions about, "How much will it cost to paint me?" This usually gets silenced when I say 200 euros for B&W/500 euros for Color. Anyhow it's nice to know people appreciate my work. The most genuine request so far is from the beautiful young receptionist that works at the hostel front desk. She is also a painter but like many of us artists that have "real" jobs she has trouble finding the time to paint. She asked if it would be okay to just watch me paint. That's the same thing I ask any painter I see working. She is obviously a legitimate painter and I'm honored she wants to learn from me. Did I mention she is very pretty... so I may have trouble concentrating with her sitting behind me.

My latest street sign

J'échangerai de l'art contre les euros, les aliments, l'habitation, ou une petite amie française sexy.

Marseille ain't so bad after all

Never judge a city from the first day. I painted all afternoon recieved many great responses, some food, and some money. I also had inquiries for 2 comissions... 1 of a chair in front of a fireplace... the other for a very pretty young woman's portrait. I also met another artist that asked if I be interested in showing my work in his gallery. Looks like I might be staying here a little longer... I do have to say this city is full of eye candy for my newest style of artwork.

On another note... I'm staying with 2 people I met on the train in an Islamic boarding house. I was a little uncomfortable at first. But there is no alcohol allowed and an 11pm curfue. I thought this might not be a bad idea for me. Now if I can keep hold of my passport and remember not to bring a painting of Jesus or Bush into the place... I think it will work out. They seem nice enough... and it is only 10 dollars a night... oh but a shower cost 4 bucks(bring your own soap and towel). Doh!

My Art Gallery

Here is a link to a selection of previous and ongoing art projects:

New Album 2/19/07 6:33 PM

France? CRAP... now everything I say is in Spanish!

So I got on the first train out of Spain. Target destination is Greece but first stop is Marseille, FRANCE. What a fucking hell hole. This is one dirty disgusting place. Lot's of cool stuff to paint... so I'll try my best to stick tight for a few days and whip out some more art to be destroyed. Anyhow my feet are fucked. So many blisters and now a rash. I think I might buy some new shoes today with more ventilation or maybe just poke some holes in mine. I'll see how it goes. So far Spain is my favorite European country besides Holland. That said... Holland is expensive. Spain is very cheap. So obviously I chose Spain.

Breakin into Dali's Casa

Well I had quite a freak out. I think I caught a little cabin fever mix that with tequilla and trouble arises. I was looking for a friend's art studio. And an old lady led me to the church instead. I lost it, laid on the alter and started to let it all out. An alter boy tapped me on the shoulder and said "You can't cry here." This disturbed me and actually made me a little angry. I realized I'm sick of Dali and this place is Dali's place not mine. I had 6 surreal paintings I had done over the past 4 weeks. I went to the beach in the center of town and destroyed them screaming "No more Dali!" I threw a painting at some tourist reading the Dali sign near by. It was quite a spectacal and word of craziness travels fast. I had already decided to try my darnest to get into Dali's house. I offered the Security guard 300 bucks to let me look around. He refused. That was not cool and Dali himself would have gone in anyway so I did. I jumped the stone wall and stealthily strolled the grounds of his garden. I took the highest rock from the garden and threw it into the sea. I then hid my business card in a special place for any friends visiting to find. On my way out I noticed the back door was open so I entered Dali's house. I was stopped immediately by the guard I saw earlier. A very respectable official told me I should probably leave town. I told him I was looking for an Apartment. He told me it probably wasn't a good idea. So I got on the first bus out of town.

The Venosas

Marcus Venosa, incredible bassist in a Jazz band. I met this guy and was told about his farther Robert Venosa. Check out his site : www.venosa.com

He and H R Geiger studied together. He introduced Geiger to Dali who in turn introduced Geiger to the makers of Aliens. Great people are alive here in Cadaques.

Call for help... I´m being held captive

Just kidding. So I´ve lost most of my communication devices. Cell is dead, computer is dead and credit card is gone. I couldn´t be happier. This place called Cadaques is a magic place. Anyone who is a master of their art and doesn´t quite fit in somewhere else journeys here and never leaves. It´s like the Gods have decended here and they have nowhere else to go. There are only 2 single women worth mentioning in this little town. And to talk with them is to talk with their father.
No thanks... so there is lot´s of time for reflection. I´m actually learning to be quiet. Imagine that. Somedays I just sit all day on a rock by the Sea and get to this really deep peaceful place in my mind. I´ve started looking for a place to live and make art. I need to start making a living as an artist in order to hold onto to my nest egg. The exchange rate isn´t helping my cause either. It is becoming quite a challenge to paint in a hotel room. I have temporarily post poned my journey eastward. Oh my God, I am stuck in Salvador Dali´s town... couldn´t be more perfect though. I love this place... and I´m really feeling embraced by the locals and my extended family of crazy artists.