Damien James' photostream  

Marker on paper.
2010

The centerpiece of the triptych. That's right, I'm actually calling these three drawings a triptych. Because I'm a pretentious bitch.

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A women saw this piece at a Flat Iron show in October of 2011. She was quite taken with it, raving to me about how much it worked for her, how it incorporated several elements of design and illustration that she loved. She walked away from me saying "I promise you, one day I'll own a piece of your work."

I laughed it off. We've all heard it at least once, I imagine. An hour or so later, however, I saw her racing down the hall toward me, a fist full of cash leading her. She told me she wanted it right now, had to take it with her back to Denver, where she was visiting from. She couldn't wait.

The lesson: Women from Denver mean what they say. I'm still hoping for an email from her, so I can have her full name and thank her properly here, in the virtual world, where everything is real and eternal.

Marker on paper.
2011

Marker on paper.
2011

Or maybe you disagree. Maybe we move too quickly, missing everything as it passes our blurry-eyed drunkenness.

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This drawing was taken home (from the show at HumanThread Gallery in July of 2011, the year of our lord and savior Harpo Marx) by Judy Prindable, major and quite crazy patron of the arts. She's got so much art on her walls that it's quite likely she already possesses a significant collection of current Chicago art. Then again, considering that she now owns some of my work, I suppose we should all question the significance of said collection.

Marker on paper.
2011

What I like about hypocrisy is that you can find it anywhere you look. Close your eyes, point your finger, and spin in a circle, stopping randomly. Ten times out of nine you'll land on a pharmaceutical disguised as something holistic, an invasive agenda pretending to be a benevolent intention. And once we've corrupted everything we know, we'll heave our collective apology into the void for possibly offending anyone. Then we'll tweet decline into a sweet little joke and tell stories about what optimism used to mean.

On the bright side: You are here tonight, and if you open to possibility and refuse to shrink, this very moment may make you new. Or just horribly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

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During a recent show in the Flat Iron - October of 2011, to be exact - Chicago painter and pillar of Wicker Park's artistic livelihood, Marketa Sivek, insisted upon owning this drawing after she was forced to stare at it beneath florescent lights for seventy-two consecutive hours with allowances for but a handful of blinks. Despite this ordeal, I am incredibly pleased to be a part of her collection. Truly.

Marker on paper.
2011