Graduated with a Photography B.F.A., a Digital Arts and Culture Certificate, and Honors yesterday at 9 in the morning on three hours of sleep (having been to a live-mic attic party complete with a live chicken in a box the evening before). I think it's appropriate, at this point, to quote a great poet of the ages in celebration of this milestone:
"I don't free style I wear clothes that fit
I don't flip burgers I'm a college graduate
You can hardly handle it so go ask your analyst
I'm the catalyst that moistens the panties of management"
-M.C. Chris
I will soon be posting select photos from said graduation, along with some from my Thesis Show at the ArtBar, plus, as a bonus, some links and material that are actually interesting and relevant.
Cool Beans.
I'm having the finished pieces printed up as Art-trading-cards (with slick designs and spiffy little story blurbs on the back) to be sold for cheap at my Photo Portfolio show (Friday, May 16th at the ArtBar). [Side note: the ArtBar is a nice little cafe/bar in Riverwest that makes up a tasty Bloody Mary. Worth a visit.] They'll also be projected in a fancy-pants manner; too bad the maximum resolution I could get them made into slides with was around a third of the images' actual size. But cool beans anyhow!
I shall be dressed as a luchadore. Come say "Hello!"
Also of note: I've received some official Props for my One Thousand Pardons series, in the form of a Frederick R. Layton BFA Award! Not sure how many beans that's worth yet, but hopefully it'll buy me some hard drives and Pirate cards. The award was presented to me at the UWM BFA show yesterday evening, and was definitely a surprise... I arrived at the gallery to see the back of a circle of people clapping.
Oh, and another thing: If you happen to play ForumWarz, that nifty browser-based Internet Simulation RPG, look me up sometime.
In water it might’ve been different, but I knew as soon as I heard the Mantiwheel’s secondary pistons fire up that I’d have no chance on land. Still, ditching the satchel was an even-less-palatable option than having my head devoured by a giant Dictyoptera; I’d have to bank, once again, on Trickery.
There they were, at long last: A seething mass of groping Trunktacles met my vision as I timidly pushed aside the tall grass. The squirming appendages stretched over the forest canopy and out of my sight… They must’ve gone on for miles. I could see the aesthetic appeal, but a tourist attraction this was not; a brief glance at one of these hulking creatures confirmed its status as an Engine of War unto itself.
Now, I’ll admit the Crabboth had a weight advantage. A strength advantage, too! His slimy digits nearly ripped the face-chamber from my Tank-Suit before I could utilize my own advantage: A Merman with a detonator and no fear of Death! Herman was circling around, I knew, but this knowledge did little to calm my nerves as the first tiny leak sprung…
As I readied my chisel for another blow, I imagined something new in that huge, unblinking eye. These weren’t tears of regret or mourning, they were tears of joy- and Damned if my chest didn’t swell up to popping as I heard the beast burst into a warbling cry of appreciation! The old man had been right after all.
Of course I had taken the time to check each of the windows, but the incorrigible little bastards were getting in anyway! Most likely a poor job done by he that cobbled together the fortification. The Homunculi weren’t bright, but they could track meat for miles… These two were honing in on a package of half-frozen “Beefy Man” Ham Shank Franks. They would come to regret their hunger.
Herman was affable as ever, but I found my mind drifting to the Ethereal. As I had a harder time leaving the shack, Herman was often the one sent off on errands- leaving me to hold the place together. When the Horgathon came by for his weekly meal, I was often out back, lazily waxing our impish charges. The Horgathon is not to be trifled with, as I soon found.
(From The Uneventful Life of Arturio von Anglebanger)