Kamis, 31 Maret 2011

Arizona Photography...

Badass airbrushed Azteca canvas at graf shop




Nina cat napping

Girl Talk show Tempe




Visited the Air Museum to check out the paint jobs...




Charlie don't surf!
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Owl Tattoo...

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Rabu, 30 Maret 2011

“Escape Into Chris - Entry 10” plus 1 more

“Escape Into Chris - Entry 10” plus 1 more

Escape Into Chris - Entry 10

Posted: 30 Mar 2011 11:17 AM PDT


Sketch by Chris Al-Aswad

March 2005 – Normal, IL

"How do I trust or learn to trust? How do I place faith in simply being myself and not strive so hard to be the world's next great author? When if ever will I be able to not think about writing. My consciousness, dominated by a few ideas branching off from one main purpose – I must be a great writer. If I was only a writer, then I could take my time. But I'm constantly reminded of the clock. And it removes me from the experience of life itself. I would like to see my writing become something – I would like to let go also. My mind is obsessed. Can it become un-obsessed when I feed that obsession every day, nearly every minute. What is that vital fluid that circulates my veins like hot lava? Will I ever know that the same substance – in the end – will kill me? Like my mother whose spark was too intense, I see her – in me."

Escape Into Chris - Entry 9

Posted: 29 Mar 2011 08:44 PM PDT

Sketch by Chris Al-Aswad


April 2009 – Normal, IL

All is incomplete
Can you handle
being
a work in progress
Can you handle
incomplete
unfinished symphonies
novels
portraits

The moments of perfection
of completion
like finished work
that you set your gaze upon

When I stop to think about
the shuffle and
that John Lennon song
pops into my head
the one about the wheels
it occurs to me that all we have
and all we'll ever have
is unfinished work

I guess the realization comes
when you realize you're not headed
to some moment of perfect
but just another
moment of unfinished
incomplete work

It was a dream I had
before I went to bed
I said 'Dad-
both of us were in the car
on a strip of the highway
Both of us stared into the
light on the road ahead

What – my dad answered
Is it always like this -
I mean do you ever get
to the end of the road

That's when the desert appeared
in and out of the shadows-
and cacti made faces

Your work is never done
and the road never ends he said-
Then are we lost I wanted to know-
No, we're not lost, we're just driving
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Rabu, 23 Maret 2011

Escape Into Chris - Entry 8

Escape Into Chris - Entry 8

Escape Into Chris - Entry 8

Posted: 23 Mar 2011 12:14 PM PDT



March 2005 – Normal, IL

"…Greatness is not assumed, it is earned and I have not earned it yet. These are just my thoughts, they are not public displays of art. Why to write art you need a form, like a poem or a short story, or a novel. Those are the buildings. But a journal, a journal is not timeless, it is transitory, fleeting like butterfly wings. One flap, and they're gone. We so want to assert our spirits upon this earth. My mother, why hers casts a light across the family, her artwork, a colorful mural once foregrounded, now subtle, behind us. Where will her son come out? There needs to be industry. What will I produce, just these 25 year old thoughts? Language must be handled deftly, it must be learned from masters. This is not a vacation here on earth. We are expected to leave legacies for our children and if our children were never born, those who we love instead, but build we must. We must express the unexpressed, the eternal must seep through the words. And silence must fill our ears with images so resolute that we shy aware from their gaze. Our discussion is only with ourselves, we are forever talking back into our womb until our mother hears us calling back into her. We must warn our families, tell them to stop before they begin. These creatures have spirits. these animals have real hearts. We're alive and song pours out of us. We're so much of life we cannot hide from our own enormousness, impossible faith, beyond beyond…"
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