So yesterday night, around 1:30 in the morning, I was coming home from work on the winding back roads to avoid the midnight rush of Black Friday shoppers at the mall down the street from the interstate I usually commute on and a little deer darted out in front of the car.
I didn't hit it, but my fiancee gasped and slammed back in her seat as she'd hit a bear on these very roads much earlier this year.
So that was neat. Seeing the wildlife, but not mowing it down and hurting my car anymore than it's bear-battle damaged current state.
There were about seven other deer off to the opposite side of the road, so this one was obviously a retarded straggler, but I still imagine myself removed from the harsher aspects of natural selection.

I put up a few paintings, the three most recent.
I have a good deal of my paintings posted now.

I wish I had photos of some earlier works that I gave away as presents to girls in the past. I think it'd be a more accurate chronology with those paintings and drawings.

C'est la vie.

If history is any indicator, I'll see you back here next year. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

What happens when the desire for an income overrides your desire to make a point?
Do you cease to operate as an artist when you create for recognition and not for a sense of self-actualization or personal fulfillment?
What is the true purpose of displaying ones work in an open forum? For example, when ones work hangs on ones walls, or on other walls (accessible to the creator or not), is that not enough? Why do we continually present our "work" in a public setting? Is it for a payday or a pat on the back?
Are we setting ourselves up for some sort of fall when we create for the sake of credit? Does it cheapen our intent when we take a step back and analyze it all?
Do I know the answers? No.
With no intention of trying to affect some sort of trite humility, I'm just a simple cartoonin' man trying to find a way to turn into an artist.

I'm putting up some canvases in a room where the sell stuff in May, I guess. This concludes my annual update, you may now return to your scheduled internet drama already in progress.

I seem to have taken a nap sometime around July and forgotten to set my alarm. Last year was painful, and I'm glad to see it gone. I don't have a whole lot to show for it, considering all the bruises and scars I recieved.
Learned a bit about letting go, learned a bit more about confusion and exclusion than I ever cared to, and so it goes. I did take away something here and there: exorcism, nihilism, and a healthy skepticism. C'est la vie.
I'm a little bit older, and none the wiser for it, and knowing that you're not wise makes you a wiser man than most.
Can't take anything, especially oneself, too seriously. Not for long at least.
Hopefully rolling with the punchline will be like rolling with the punches.
Buddumpcha.


-m!ke

Weds, July 13th at 6pm, join Mike Martin and Brian Phillips at Austin's Coffee & Film in Winter Park, FL for the official reception of their nearly-over art show.
AND if you act now, as an added bonus they'll include the first live performance of Brian Phillips and Richard Jerousek's band: DISCOVERY OF MAGNETIC NORTH!
Special guests may guest specially!
Fun will be had by a few!
Please show up in force to support the newest art and music scene darlings, and really make those palookas over at Austin's wish they'd held this crap for them sooner.
If you have questions, or want to voice your support, please contact mike or brian at either scumhaus@yahoo.com
or
captaincrabula@yahoo.com
OR
comment to this post in mike's livejournal at [link]
so long as you're not a douche.

Stumbled upon my deviantART account after a susbstantial absence. Notable things like revolutionary advancements in skill and insight fail to find their ways into my life, so little chance of that sort of content to note here.
Experimenting with digital art, via a Wacom tablet and Photoshop elements.
Recent drastic changes in relationships, and soon physical locations, lend likelihood to more strange and erratic work from my person.
This concludes our broadcast day.