#something something about sketching Mike and Matt all over my sketchbook

[glendover]

okay perhaps I do know how to draw beards 🫡

[clumsybookworm18]

and my burden to bear is a love (i can’t carry anymore) | pt.5

Jossam Ghost AU

Summary: Sam's indifference has everyone concerned.

A/N: Writer’s block sucks.

[ao3], Moodboard, parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 6

The autumn chill chased Sam down the neighborhood streets. Despite the cold, the muscles of her legs burned with every movement she made. She hadn’t even jogged a whole mile and she was already tired. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been keeping up with the fit lifestyle she had before, but how had Sam let herself become so out of shape? So weakened? 

She breathed in the cold air, letting it fill her lungs. 

Milky eyes on her. Pale creatures with long limbs. Monstrous shrieks.

 Her pace quickened. 

You’re alive. You made it out. You survived.

Running had been what saved her life that night. She didn’t know why she had stopped doing it in the first place. 

“Sam!” Someone called from behind her. “Sam, wait!” 

She slowed her run down to a slow walk and saw Chris running towards her. Or trying to. And here she was, thinking she was the one out of shape.

He stopped in front of her, lifting a hand as a sign for her to wait and leaned over his knees to catch his breath. Finally, he wheezed, “What are you, training for a marathon?”

“I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“If you say so,” he said, hands on his hips as he still tried to catch his breath. 

Sam had a feeling he wasn’t here to talk about her running habits. “What do you want, Chris?”

“Why have you been ignoring everybody’s calls?”

“I’ve been busy.” Busy trying to understand why the ghost of your best friend is haunting me. 

“Sam,” he started, giving her a look of disbelief. “I was friends with the biggest bullshitter I’ve ever known so if you want to lie to me, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that.” 

“Fine,” she snapped. “How about ‘I just want to be alone and not have any of you breathing down my neck.’ Is that believable enough for you?”

“We just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“As you can see,” Sam said in a dry tone, doing a quick gesture at herself with a hand. “I’m clearly fine.”

Chris muttered, “Yeah, clearly.”

“I’m not getting into this right now.” Sam scoffed, turning away to continue her jog.

“You know you can’t outrun your problems,” Chris yelled after her. 

“I can certainly try,” Sam said over her shoulder.

***

The sound of her phone vibrating on breaks Sam from her reverie. The name Mike flashes on the screen for a few moments before it goes black again. She lets out an irritated sigh, closing her sketchbook and picks up her phone to scroll down her notifications. 

where have u been?

CALL ME

Are you ok?

If you’re still alive, give me a call.

Her cell started buzzing in her hand again, this time Jess calling her. Sam waited until it stopped.

She’d turned the Do not disturb setting on to avoid the merciless buzzing that had been going on in the last week but the silence on her end only seemed to add more fuel to the fire as the aggressive flurry of texts have now turned into persistent phone calls. She didn’t want to imagine the group chat, which she had muted long ago. 

Sam wasn’t stupid. For the  last couple of months they had been taking shifts to check up on her, visiting her, taking her out.

Waiting for her to break. 

But she’d caught up pretty quickly on what they’ve been doing. She’d gained six unwanted babysitters and hated it. There was no way she was going to allow them to turn her into their charity case. 

Her friends meant well but the incessant calls and texts were getting out of hand. Sam debates sitting on her cell as it buzzes for what it felt like the hundredth time that night. She grounds her teeth, turning it off without bothering to check who was calling, and drops it back beside her on the window seat. 

Can’t they take a hint that she wants to be left alone? What was the sudden urge that had everyone wanting to get in touch with her? Why now when she was trying to figure out this ghost business anyways? Specially when the ghost in question was missing.

After the fight he picked, Josh had made himself scarce for the rest of the week. Sam couldn’t help but think that she should’ve been happy about this. She really should’ve. The problem was she wasn’t, that somehow the silence was worse. But she wasn’t about to tell him that if- when he decides to show up. 

Yes, she was angry, she was hurt, but there was still this… yearning- Sam choked on the word- for him. As confusing as it was. And she had no idea how to handle what was happening. Gah.

“Why are you avoiding everybody?” 

Her eyes pulled away from the window. Lounging on her bed as if he owned it was Josh, an arm resting behind his head and looking at her with expectant eyes. Sam tried to hold on to her anger, not liking what she felt. Relief, that he came back. And something else: intense, burning, awful. An emotion she’d grown wary of... Sam kept her face blank. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?” 

He frowned. “I was never not talking to you.”

“Really? Is that why you’ve been gone these last few days?”

“Aw Sammy, are you saying that you missed me?”

“Not in the least.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He merely shrugs, that insufferable smirk she’s all too familiar with curving his lips. “Just that I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t thinking about me, that’s all.”

 “Well your ghostly radar must be on the fritz then.” She picks up her pen and dashes off a few more lines. “I didn’t realize being a ghost also made you a mind reader.”

“Your thoughts are written all over your face.”

“Good to know I’m so transparent,” she said dryly.

A sly smile. “Only for those who know where to look.” 

Sam looks away first. She focused on the half finished sketch in front of her, the image in her mind long gone, but kept adding more lines to it, looking for something, anything to distract her. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Josh said.

“Why bother?” She shrugged. “Apparently you already seem to know what I’m thinking so…” And it was none of his business. 

“I may be going out on a limb here but I’m sensing it has to do with the same reason Cochise was nipping at your heels the other day.”

“If you already know, then why ask about it.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he defended.

Sam crossed her arms, not amused.

Josh rolled his eyes. “Right, I forgot is better to be miserable and alone.”

It took a lot to refrain herself from throwing something at his big fat head. With her patience running thin and looking to get off the topic, she asks, “Where were you?”

Josh’s face grows tight and Sam braces herself for him to push, to provoke her but he simply says, “Around.”

She scoffed. “Oh, so you can pry all you want about my life but when I ask you something, you can’t even give me a straight answer?”

A faint smile. Bastard. “Good to know you still care,” Josh said. “Warms my cold, dead heart.”

He doesn’t duck when she throws a pillow at him. 

***

Sam startled awake. Her face soaked and sticky. Her breath coming out in pants. 

“It was a dream,” she heard Josh say, his presence a gentle hum on her skin. Sam latched onto it as she swam out of the murkiness of her subconscious. She sat up straight, her surroundings slowly coming into view.

Josh was instantly in front of her, his eyes wide as they sought hers in the darkness. “Just a dream,” he repeated. 

She was home. In her bed. She had made it out. 

She could feel his gaze on her but Sam curled on to her side, stubbornly keeping her back to him. Tried to ignore the pounding in her head, focusing on her quiet breaths instead. She hated that someone was seeing her like this. Hated that of all people, he was the one that got to see her like this. He didn’t have the right to see her be vulnerable. Not anymore. But at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to give a shit.

Sam made herself go back to sleep.

***

She awoke to the sight of Emily raiding her wardrobe. “Good to see you’re not dead.” she said, not bothering to stop her ransacking. “Even if you look like it.”

Sam quickly sat up, temporarily blinded by the morning light. “Emily? What are you doing here?”

“Get up,” Emily ordered, chucking some clothes on the bed. “We’re going out.” 

Not waiting for a response, she turned and left the room.

Sam groaned, throwing herself back on the bed and rubbed her eyes, wiping the residual sleep from them. A quick glance at her bedside clock told her it was almost noon. Had she really slept that long? 

Still, she didn’t move from where she lay.

“You do know,” Josh drawled from his side of the bed. “That if you don’t get up now, she’s only gonna come back and bitch about it until you do.” 

Sam gave him the most sassy side eye she could muster. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you.” 

“Ouch.”

Eventually she got up before Emily decided to come back and drag her out.

***

Sam felt the weight of Josh’s attention heavy on her as she finished getting ready. Knows his gaze is on the purple bags beneath her eyes. Senses the questions pressing on his tongue. Yet he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand to know what nightmarish hell had disrupted her sleep last night. 

It wasn’t that the nightmares had stopped, but it had been a while since she had a dream like that. Long enough, that she’d foolishly started hoping she wouldn’t have one again. Wishful thinking on her part. 

Sam had just finished adjusting her scarf when he said, “If you’re not up for this just tell Heather Chandler down there to back off.” 

Her eyes met his. She saw the challenge blazing in them. “Don’t tell me you’re worried?”

“So what if I am?” 

“I’m not some broken doll,” she instantly snapped.

“I know you’re not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.” 

She felt her body go hard. “Go haunt someone else,” Sam seethed, but she was the one that walked away.

***

Emily and Matt were waiting for her in the foyer. Matt gave her a sheepish smile while Emily crossed her arms impatiently. “You certainly took your sweet time.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked, “Where are we going?” She hadn’t even gone out of the house yet and she already wanted to crawl back to bed.

Matt opened his mouth to answer but Emily beat him to it.

“We’re going to grab a bite first,” she said. “We’re starving and you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“I appreciate the concern, Em, but I’m not really hungry.”

“Really?” Emily scoffed. “I don’t know how you can say that to me with a straight face when you look like your bones could snap at any moment.” 

“Wow. No tact at all with this one,” Josh suddenly appeared beside her. Sam gave him a subtle hiss. 

“Em.” Came Matt’s soft warning.

Sam leveled her gaze at them, crossing her arms. She didn’t need Matt to defend her nor did she want him to. Like she told Josh, she wasn’t a broken doll. Besides Emily was the only one who didn’t treat her any differently which she actually appreciated. “Is that why you’re here? To babysit me?”

Emily scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. “Do I look like a babysitter to you?” 

There was something weird going on that didn’t sit right with her. 

Emily’s shrewd golden eyes narrowed at her. “What else are you going to do with yourself? Spend the day doing those depressing paintings of yours?”

“They’re not depressing,” Sam protests. 

“Oh please, everything you paint is depressing,” she retorts, scrunching her nose. “It’s all black and white and grey.” 

“Maybe I like the contrast.,” said Sam. “Ever thought of that?” 

She debated on pushing, on insisting to stay. But Emily had a point. What was the point of staying in? Sleep? As tempting as crawling back to her bed sounded...

With a resigned sigh, she agreed, letting her friends drag her out of the house. She knew she was going to regret this.

***

After a quick lunch and scouring the entire mall, Sam was exhausted. How the hell did Matt keep up with Emily’s shopping sprees, she didn’t know. Sam barely survived herself. She was pretty sure they were even more aggressive than they were before, and that was saying a lot. 

Shop after shop, rows of clothes, shoes and jewelry. Yet nothing inside her stirred at the display like it would’ve done before. 

The only thing worse than the trip itself had been Josh’s unwanted commentary. He had an opinion on everything. She had to catch herself a couple of times from slipping up and talking to him in public, which had clearly been his intention all along. Prick. 

Matt kept throwing her some weird looks the entire time that only made the uneasiness she felt this morning worsen. 

“Hey are you doing okay?” he asked once they were alone. 

Sam looked forward to the day people would stop asking her that. She forced a smile on her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that I know Emily can be a little… aggressive-” 

“Matt, I know you guys worry about me, but don’t you think that treating me like I’m made of glass makes me feel worse?” She crossed her arms. “At least Em doesn’t walk on eggshells around me.”

Matt looked at her closely but Sam’s attention was back to the clothing rack she’d been halfheartedly sweeping through.

And that was that. 

***

The sun was starting to set by the time they left the mall, Matt carrying most of the brunt of Emily’s shopping bags and Sam with a small bag of supplies for her makeshift art studio at home. 

Somehow they ended up at the park downtown. Sam was too drained to question why they were there and neither of them bothered to explain either. They all tensed as the sound of shrieking laughter pierced the air. In the distance, the children played. Safe. Coddled. Ignorant to the momentary emotional distress their innocent laughter caused the fucked up trio. 

Sam pointedly ignored how Emily’s hand found Matt’s, the way her shoulders relaxed when he gripped it in his own. She found Josh’s gaze on her, concern shading those eyes. 

She pointedly ignored that too.  

She stopped in her tracks as she saw where Matt and Emily were headed. As they made their way to the table, where all of their friends were waiting. She did not like the feeling that settled in her gut. Not at all. 

“I thought you said it was going to be just us,” Sam said, looking between Emily and Matt.

Emily raised a brow. “Did I?” 

She turned to Josh as subtle as she could. One look at him told her exactly what she needed to know. He knew this was going to happen and didn’t even warn her. Honestly, she didn’t know why she kept expecting something from him. 

She looked to where her friends were sitting. Something inside her twinged at seeing everyone paired off. 

Jess smiled in greeting and gestured for her to sit down on the empty space next to her and Mike. Sam didn’t move. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, too tired, too angry to bother with any pleasantries. Sam was familiar with what a friendly intervention looked like.

“The only thing missing is a fucking banner,” said Josh, but his tone was devoid of any amusement. 

Mike approached her slowly, holding his hands up as if he was dealing with some kind of animal that would just run away if it got spooked too easily. “Calm down. We just wanna talk.”

Her stance grew even more defensive. “And that’s why you decided to ambush me?”

“You were screening all of our calls and wouldn’t answer any of our messages. You left us no other choice.”

“Yeah, a huge mistake on my part, otherwise I would’ve saved you from the trouble of doing this.” 

“I know how this must look like to you but we’re doing this for your own good.”

This had to be some sort of payback for all the interventions she had instigated in the past. That was the exact kind of thing the old her would’ve said. They were using her own methods against her. Oh the irony.

“Not so fun when you’re at the other end, now is it?” Josh drawled in her ear. 

Sam grounded her jaw, refraining herself from reacting. The others already thought she was a walking cry for help, no need for her to add to that notion. “Okay, I learned my lesson and you guys gave me a taste of my own medicine. Can I leave now?” 

The silence that followed her statement was unnerving. Here she was, surrounded by her friends and she felt more alone than ever.

“Well?” she snapped, growing more irritated with that looks they were giving each other. “What is it?”

“This seclusion of yours has gone long enough,” Emily said, crossing her arms. 

Sam‘s lips thinned. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Because we basically dragged you out of the house or else you wouldn’t have come.”

“So?”

“That’s the problem,” Mike broke in. “Sam this isn’t you. This tough act you have going on… it’s like you’re so scared to accept what happened that you’ve become a completely different person.”

This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

Mike’s stance loosened, his expression growing apologetic and tired. “Look we know that you and Josh-”

The sharp look she gave him was enough to make Mike glance at the others for back up. Josh clicked his tongue, murmuring something under his breath.

“Look Sam, you don’t have to pretend like you’re holding yourself together, bottling everything up,” Chris took over. “How are you going to move on if you haven’t even accepted that they died?” 

“I tried to grieve them. Trust me. I tried,” Sam said, her throat tightening. “But every time I let everything sink in…” She shook her head. Doesn’t want to think about it.

“Look Sam, we get it, okay? We do,” Chris said, touching her shoulder. “But there are better ways to get through this.”

“Like what?” she snapped, shaking his hand off her. “Burying my heartache with school? Drown my sorrows with a bottle? Fill the empty void with shopping sprees?” Her angry gaze flickering over every one of them as she spoke. “We’re all dealing with it in our own ways. This is me dealing with it, okay?” 

Ashley tentatively walked over to her. “Yeah, that’s the problem,” she said gently. “You’re not dealing with it, Sam. You’re just pressing pause.” 

“So tell me,” Sam said, looking between Chris and Ash. “Tell me what you’re doing to get through this because I’m clearly doing it wrong.” 

This time it was Chris who answered. “I moved on. The twins are gone. Josh is gone,” No he wasn’t, he was standing right in front of her. But they didn’t know that. Chris went on, oblivious, “You have to say goodbye.” 

His words made her feel far away and horribly grounded at the same time. They made her resent them for it. What the fuck did they know? They’re not the ones who have to live with his ghost. With the constant reminder of what she’d lost. Sure, Josh had been their friend. Best friend, even. But it wasn’t the same. 

“Easy,” Josh murmured. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret later.”

Sam wanted to laugh. A year ago it had been her saying those things to him. Now Josh- Josh was the one telling her to calm down. Josh who always let him temper get the best of him, who never had any sorts of qualms about what he’d say, no matter how spiteful or mean it might’ve been. 

There had to be a joke in there somewhere. 

Sam angrily stalked away, knowing without looking back that her ghost was close behind. 

***

Josh kept his distance as he stormed after her.

That attempt at trying to preserve that bit of normalcy was laughable at best (caging Sam never worked) but Josh couldn’t fault them for trying. Sam had always been the glue that kept their mismatched group together. The one that was always had her shit together. The one they could depend on. That constant variable. Because even if she was still mad, when you needed her, she was there. 

Sam was the final girl. She was a survivor, a fighter, but lately…. She was burying her heart so deep that she was burying her spirit too. And the worst part was that she didn’t care, that she’d stopped fighting. The girl they knew was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. 

Sam kept walking until they reached a more secluded place. Stopping before a bridge, she leaned against the railing overlooking the lake, watching the sun as it disappeared into the water. A ray of light cuts across her face. It ignites her hair. She didn’t look at Josh, yet he could see her eyes were still too shadowed. 

Grief. It had all come to this. 

He wanted nothing more than to go over to her, grab that hand that was gripping the railing, to brush his thumb over her knuckles that were now turning white from their tight hold. He wanted to have her bury her face into his chest as he hugged her, feel her body pressed close to his. But he couldn’t do any of that.

So he only said, “Care to share what’s churning around in that beautiful head of yours?”

Silence.

“Sam.” 

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice curt.

“Bullshit,” Josh said, walking over to her side. His eyes hunted her face, searching for a sign of sadness, of anger, of anything- wanting to see something other than that apathetic detachment on her features. But Sam refused to look back at him, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the lake in front of them. 

He was pushing but she was pulling. Josh may be a selfish prick but he knew part of the reason he was still here it was because Sam hasn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t let go of him completely. It was a two way street. That much he knew. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Sammy was still holding on.

“Tell me what to do,” he said. “Tell me what to do to help you.” 

Her jaw tightened, letting his pleas go unanswered. 

“After last year- after everything we’ve been through-“ 

“Don’t,” she said quietly, but not weakly.

“No,” he hissed. “You’re not going to push me away.”

“This conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” 

Those hazel eyes darted towards him and Josh almost sighed in relief at the emotion simmering in them. He sensed the shift in her, saw how all of the anger and resentment that had laid dormant inside her sprang to life. Good. Anything better than that cold and hollow silence.

“What do you want me to say?” she snapped. “That this is all your fault? That if it hadn’t been for your stupid need for revenge, we wouldn’t have gone back to that godforsaken mountain in the first place? That Mike wouldn’t have lost his fingers, or that Ashley and Chris would’ve get that haunted look in their eyes when somebody asks them how they got together. That you wouldn’t be dead.” 

Her words hit deep, digging up his anger and regret, but Josh- to his credit- didn’t even flinch. 

Sam shrugs angrily. “Did you ever stop to think for one moment that I might’ve needed someone to mourn with? Because I lost them too you know. I lost Hannah and Beth- just like you. I felt guilty for not being there for them- just like you. Didn’t you think I blamed myself for not stopping the prank when I could? For letting Beth go after Hannah in the middle of that snowstorm alone?” she said tightly, her features twisting into a pained expression. “Of course not, because you were too selfish to focus on something other than your own pain.” 

Tears shone in her eyes, few of them slipping down her cheeks. Not from sadness- oh, no- she was fucking pissed. “I was there for you when you needed me. Every call, every text, the late nights. I was there for you. And what did you do? You lied. You ran away, cloistering yourself in that damn mountain. When I needed you, you didn’t think about me or didn’t look back-”

“You know it wasn’t like that. I cared about you,” Josh snapped. 

“Is that why you terrorized me? Violated my privacy? Made me watch footage of yourself getting sawed in half? Because you cared about me?”

Her gaze burned. Josh forced himself not to look away.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I dug that grave myself with everything I did.” 

“Forget it.” Sam shakes her head. “What’s done is done. It’s not like it matters anymore.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

Sam went back to ignoring him. Just like that, the fight in her gone. 

Josh didn’t say another word.

Tags: @xmxisxforxmaybe​

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[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | Q&A w/ Mark Rogers (PDX)

Known for his oil paintings of extraterrestrial beings in Western backdrops, artist Mark Rogers creates quite literally some out-of-this-world artwork. Rogers’s pioneer and alien narratives started out as writings that would later evolve into his body of work, focusing on this idea that “aliens are [the] modern folklore creatures of our current time.” We’re excited to chat with this self taught artist and talk about various topics including his paintings, his sketchbook, and his sighting of a U.F.O in 2009! 

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Tell us about yourself Hi, I am Mark Rogers. I am a painter from Portland, Oregon. I have an irrational fear of bees, I am a vegan, and I love metal. Thanks so much for interviewing me.

What is your art background and when did you first get into drawing? I have been drawing for as long as I can remember. A lot of my elementary school memories were of me drawing on back side of whatever assignment the teachers had handed out to us, and possibly getting into trouble for it.

Being self taught, what are your thoughts on the advantages and disadvantages of maybe not attending art school?  Well, I don’t have to deal with the crippling student loan debt. Perhaps this is the most advantageous aspect of being self-taught. I received my degree in Political Science of all things, perhaps out of a sense of naive idealism before the grim apathy of adulthood sunk it’s fangs into my heart. I started making art seriously at an older age, (around 27) and felt that the school-thing wasn’t for me any more. Because I have never been to art school, I can’t completely attest to the advantages, but I do know quite a few other artists who have gone to art school, who also work a few shifts a week in restaurants and bars like myself. The same holds true of political science majors. It seems like I’m on the right path.    

Tell us about your current work which feature some prominent protagonist in the form of extraterrestrial beings interacting with American pioneers in the 1800’s. How did they evolve into your subject matter? Before I started painting, I dabbled in writing, but I wasn’t really that good at it.  My pioneer/alien narrative coalesced over the course of many paintings and sketchbook doodles and I am learning more about the story all the time. I feel that Aliens are the modern folklore creatures of the our current time as maybe fairies and elves were their predecessors from earlier generations. I have always loved westerns, but felt that they were sort of boring due to the lack of magic or mystery. A lot of people might say that my work is science fiction, but I am actually trying to create/explore a newer fantasy paradigm that is both magical and American. …..also I saw a UFO in 2009.

Wait, whoaaaa … Please share with us your U.F.O story. It was the early summer of 2009 and I was married at the time, living in Springfield Oregon. My ex-wife and I were walking down Centennial Blvd around dusk, headed to the corner store, when we both saw a glowing ball of orange light silently make its way really low across the sky to our right to vanish over the horizon line. We both looked at each other with huge eyes and say at the same time “UFO”. It was super weird and eerie. 

Later that summer we bought a telescope and spent a bit of time each night in the back yard hoping to see something like what we had witnessed, but sadly I have never seen anything like that ever again. That was around the time that I first began painting, although I didn’t paint aliens and such until much later. The painting that I made called, “Prayer to the Magi” depicts the actual UFO that we both witnessed. It might not be an actual ship from outer space, but it was certainly unusual, and unidentifiable.

What’s the weirdest comment or compliment you’ve gotten on a piece? I had a guy the other day tell me that if I painted an Alien virgin Mary, he would have that tattooed on his belly. Some people just message me wanting to talk about their experiences or their extraterrestrial DNA.

What were you painting or drawing prior to extraterrestrials?  Can you look back and see a direct evolution to what you’re painting now?  What was your first painting, painting? I have always done narrative paintings with characters but they didn’t have the same theme as my current work. They focused usually on something personal in my life that bothered me and I would use symbolism to create an image usually with ghosts and skulls and creepy spooky stuff. My first painting sucked and it was of a woman with branches growing out of her head and perched on the branches were crows. I recently learned from Game of Thrones that was she was doing would be considered “warging”.  

Do you keep a sketchbook or work your ideas as you go along?  What type of sketchbook do you keep – disorganized chaos or neat and clean? Hell Yeah!! My sketch book is my most important art weapon as well as a wonderfully antisocial lifestyle choice. I have used a lot of sketchbooks over the years, but my total favorite is the Stillman and Birn Gamma Series 9X12. My sketchbooks are filled with thumbnails, doodles and watercolor paintings. Some pages are organized and some are bonkers depending on my sobriety during my bi-weekly drink and draw sessions. I usually go out to coffee and draw once or twice a week too. I bring my sketchbook along with a box of art supplies with me everywhere.    

What are the current mediums you work with? What about them are forgiving and what about them is challenging if at all? I love oil painting!! It is my main medium and mega-forgiving. I have tried comic-style inking but getting all the lines perfect on the first shot really stressed me out. I love the slower drying time of oils, the rich colors you can get with glazing, and the texture of the paint. The poisons are fun too! I live in a small studio apartment and my easel is about 8 feet from my bed.  The only thing that is really challenging about oil painting is that packing in tiny details can be a little tricky, but it works for me, and I don’t ever foresee changing mediums.

What’s your specific artistic process like? Does a schedule help you? Are you a morning person or night owl? I am extremely process oriented. My typical flow goes: Sketchbook thumbnail, gather reference, better sketchbook thumbnail, draw on the panel, spray fix and cover it with matte medium, then do an underpainting and then the final layers. After that I varnish the painting and photograph it, frame it, and then usually mail it somewhere. I have a suggested art schedule, but I never stick to it. Instead, I am always kind of working or squeezing in chunks of painting time in here or there.  I am a total night owl, in fact I rarely leave my apartment unless it is dark out.

What artists are you really into at the moment? What is it about his or her work that stand out to you? I like so many artists both classical and contemporary that it is hard to really answer this question. I am very inspired by a lot of my friends and the community of people that I have met online. I feel like the person that most fascinates me currently is James Gurney because he is really into sharing his process. I have learned so much by just reading his blog. I love how he is a plein air painter as well as an amazing illustrator. I have almost all of his books.

Do you have a favorite pair of Vans (classics, sk8-hi etc)? I am currently wearing the AUTHENTIC black on black, but I also have had a ton of the OLD SKOOL and SK8 HI in the past.

What are some words you like to live by? I don’t have an exact quote, but I am very big on the idea of “Grit” as a personality trait. According to wikipedia: “Grit in psychology is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on an individual’s passion for a particular long-term goal or end state, coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective.” I feel that Grit is the most important personality trait of any serious artist.  

What are you looking forward to the rest of this year artwise? I have been working a ton with Red Truck Gallery in New Orleans, and I will continue to over the course of the year, with maybe a trip down to Los Angeles for the LA Art show and another trip to NOLA for fun. Also, I would really like to complete a very large painting with lots of characters before the year is over. Finally, it would be nice to have the Alien implant in my frontal cortex removed if possible. Thanks so much for interviewing me, Mike!

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