I was born breech during a freak blizzard. My mother was bleeding to death and I was being choked by my own umbilical cord. It was a veritable Greek tragedy. The doctor made a snap judgment and in order to save us both, he grabbed my little feet and yanked for all his might. He broke my right arm ( I am a lefty) and because my mother was so doped up, when they asked her what to put on the birth certificate, they thought she said Dawn. Not even a full 10 minutes into the world and I was already on my way to becoming a cynic, or the next Johnny Cash hit.
I grew up watching the wonderful monster movies of the atomic age with my father and 3 brothers. Saturday nights were junk food, root beer floats and after an excruciatingly long late night news cast, Gregory the Grave walker and his double feature of horror, mayhem and giant lizards destroying Tokyo! My mother would remark to my father how those movies were sure to rot our brains and she was right. She knew those horrifying, yet tantalizing celluloid terrors were going to eat away at my tender, ohh so tasty, brain cells, until the only thing left was a twisted mass of forever tainted grey matter. Of course, my mother was not completely innocent. She did introduce me to the likes of Stephen King, Dean Koontz and Clive Barker.
Now, being a Catholic child of the Cold War, I was exposed to the wonders of living with the imminent threat of nuclear holocaust and the certainty that when it came I was going to hell for numerous transgressions I committed daily against the good Lord. So, being a creative child, I put crayon to paper in order to make sense of all the terrifying imagery swirling through my young impressionable brain. Demons to punish me for my sinful ways, men who turn into wolves, vampires, flies, hamsters and any other imaginable radiation, or hell induced transmutations. Giant sharks, rats, lizards, spiders, ants, bears, mosquitoes, all intent on eating the population of the world (usually starting at my house, was what I was sure of). And, let’s not forget those damn evil, creepy ass clowns. Of course, there were the obligatory parent-teacher conferences to discuss the copious amounts of red crayon and finger paint my snowman pictures always seemed to contain, and was everything okay at home?
I attended college briefly, where I was introduced to the amazing world of art. Francis Bacon, Robert Rauschenberg, Redon, Monet, Dine, Pollock, Goya and the list is endless. Their art laid the groundwork for what was to become the impetus for my own art. I sold cars, advertising and unbeknown to me, t-shirt designs to a big time pirate company making everything from NFL knock offs to A-Team gear. After they got busted in a big three state raid, I decided to go into the Army as an illustrator, but after being wooed by the Green Beret video ended up in the Infantry. I was good at being a soldier and I loved the job. I'm sure it had something to do with my violent emergence into this world. Art called to me, however, and after 4yrs as an Infantry sergeant and a brief stint as a reserve drill sergeant, I got out. By this time I had a growing family and after a failed attempt to juggle going back to school, along with bills to pay and Army Reserve duty, I decided to make art pay off for me. I did a tattoo apprenticeship in record time and started tattooing full time to pay the bills. Luckily, I didn't screw too many people up and have actually developed a pretty good career that has spanned almost two decades, at this point. I’m married to an amazing woman who happens to be a research psychologist (match made in Heaven, right?) and between us we have 5 kick ass kids and a cat.
I was able to start tattooing part time in 2006, in order to devote more time to my first passion, painting. I paint dark stuff. Mostly centering on social commentary. On that part of man that crops up all too often in our daily lives. That hidden part that we try to gloss over with our lattes, I-phones, flat screens, eco-friendly vehicles (is there such a thing, really?), and all those things that make us look like normal citizens on the outside. I’m interested in that twisted little part of our souls that we all have, yet try to deny. You know… the one that tells you to shove the check that lady is writing for that pack of gum so far down her throat that you endorse her spleen. The one that creates the Hitler’s, Pol Pot’s, Gein’s, Shawcross’s, Koresh’s, and so on. It’s the flaw of man that caused the holocaust, the inquisition, the crusades, world wars, genocides and countless other unimaginable acts of depravity and brutality. That's my gift; to look past the friendly veneer and see the stripped down demon, seething with anger, lust, hatred and all of the other sins that dwell in the dark matter of our hearts. And through it all, I try to inject a little humor, because, after all, we are one funny ass species.
"Art is Power...so is a well placed bullet to the back of the skull."
