The Flaherty Family Ferret Farm

New Web Site !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

2010-07-13T06:01:00.000-07:00

click here to go to my brand spanking new website

click here to go to my deviant art page

2010-05-31T18:48:00.000-07:00

Quote/advice of the day: "Don't act Broken, even if your'e Broken"

2010-01-31T18:31:00.000-08:00

old manifesto entries

In No Particular Order

2010-01-27T19:20:00.000-08:00

after the funeral.
crawled into bed with 2 blankets- one over me and one under. I sleep on a blanket, not a sheet. I hate sheets. I love blankets. Expected I'd have myself a nice long hard cry, all curled up in a ball. instead just laid there on my back- looking up at all the album covers I've stabled to my ceiling--
Years have passed- just like this.
People seem to like the idea of their dead love ones- looking down on them, watching over them. They find comfort in the idea of it. That they're always with them. I think it's creepy. I'm not comforted by it at all. I'd rather not have an audience, no matter how small. I don't want anyone looking down- seeing through the roof, through the pink attic insulation, into my room.
I feel bugged, tailed, trespassed.
I would like for my dead not to watch.
I don't want them to see what comes next.

In Search of the elusive Mr. Z

2010-01-04T15:32:00.001-08:00

This is pretty much the mood I'm in. 2010 has started with a tiny whiny wimper. I'm hoping it gets better. Maybe I'll start going to church or get a new tattoo or just eat more fruit. I think I may be developing scurvy.
Title: In Search of the Elusive Mr. Z
(oil & acrylic on wood panel: 12"x 12"x 2")

Gettysburg National Military Park

2009-11-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

Contest Without Prizes

oil & acrylic on panel (20" x 24")

available through Art Asylum Boston

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania: Gettysburg National Military Park -possibly one of the most depressing places on earth
I don't know what- I'd thought it would be- it took a second to dawn on me--it's a giant mass grave.
Once that realization hit me-though there are other things to see in town, besides the battlefield / mass grave, I couldn't leave quick enough.
Sometimes/most times people want to know- what inspired a painting or what I'm trying to say with it. A lot of the time- my thinking is a stew of different ideas that probably wouldn't mean anything to anyone but me. In this case, though, it's pretty cut and dry. The battlefield at Gettysburg: A massacre dressed up, looking like a well manicured lawn hides its thousands of dead like the sea hides a shipwreck. If i were in charges of these sorts of things, I'd've had 'em salt the land- so it'd remain barren and dead, the memory sown into our souls, as long as the dead in the ground circle the sun.

where I've been & what I've been doing: Eating Fried Green Tomatoes @ The Whistle Stop Cafe!

2009-11-13T02:08:00.000-08:00

The Whistle Stop Cafe--

as seen in the movie-
Fried Green Tomatoes.

It's in Juliette, Georgia.

The fried green tomatoes (pictured above- in case you never seen 'em before- cuz I sure hadn't ) were nice. The people were super nice and the pecan pie/cobbler thing was super duper nice--quite possibly the greatest thing I've ever had in my mouth...eva.
next---Savannah!!!

there are no spelling mistakes!

2009-11-10T02:41:00.000-08:00

here's a poem. written by me- for you- yes- you:

Driving through slices of light
past autumn's bear masts
another dumb eyed squirrel
finds the rapture
under my wheels.

Art strikes Back- opening night

2009-11-08T15:01:00.000-08:00

Friday-nov 6th. Huge turnout for the show--a lot of great art and great people. A lovely time was had all around.

SAB_ONE
see more of his stuff here

above: my other maul (sold)

A good time was had by all-
hence the frolicking storm trooper

New- not quite done- painting

2009-11-03T15:53:00.000-08:00

Escape Plan B24" x 48"
(oil & acrylic on canvas)

2nd piece for show- done!

2009-10-23T12:24:00.000-07:00

24" x 36"

acrylic & oil on canvas

2009-10-22T14:48:00.000-07:00

2009-10-21T19:19:00.000-07:00

I've got one piece (and I'm working on another) for this upcoming group show:

Art Asylum Boston "Art Strikes Back"

Art Asylum Boston
Presents

Inspirations From Above:
"ART STRIKES BACK"

Unique, Imaginative, Intricate, and Emotive "Art Strikes Back" is an extraordinary collection of art featuring the works of over 30 artists from around the world, inspired by one of the most influential films of all time...

Featured Artists Include:
Adriean Koleric, Arkiv, Biserama, Cassandra, David Flores, Dolk, Dustin Mounce, Eli Rutten, Eelus, Eyeski, Evoker, Fake, Fas, Joshua Budich, Justin Volpe,Jess Tejeda, Jon-Paul Kaiser, Kaws, Lil'Tuffy, Landon Richmond, MCA, Michael Mitchell, Matt Mcguire, Mr. Brainwash, Mariangela Tan, Nathan Caberara, Nick-Z, Pure Evil, RYCA, Ryan Madden, Raffa Jenn, Rourke Van Dale, Ric Stultz, Sab_One, Scribe, Shai Dahan, Sucklord, Spencer Davis, Stolen...

Opening Reception:
Friday, November 6th
7:00 - 9:00pm
(Exhibition Runs through December 6th)

1301 Boylston St.
Boston, Ma 02215
617-818-0724

the list

2009-10-20T23:45:00.000-07:00

2009-10-07T13:21:00.000-07:00

Love is in the Air

sketch for GUMSTEALER

2009-10-03T15:39:00.000-07:00

2009-09-21T23:10:00.000-07:00

what i've just done
and
what I'm still working on...

2009-09-10T17:52:00.000-07:00

Knives Never Bring Good News
(title is my bastardization of a Bruce Cockburn title: "Clocks Don't Bring Tomorrow, Knives Don't Bring Good News")
12.25" x 12" (oil and acrylic on panel)

Finally I Have Painted something that doesn't suck. The last couple of weeks- this has not been the case. Things just kept gettin' away from me- the way paintings will. My efforts to ward off my bad art mojo seem to have worked. I cleaned my car, my studio and got a new tatoo. I also did a few other things.
After considering carefully, my predicament- taking- of course- into consideration- my dubious potential and my myriad of bad qualities and short comings (and though I am prone to fits of anxiety that may take the form of anything from a frown to a burst appendix)- I have constructed a plan- one which - even in my delicate condition (unemployed artist) can be reasonably achieved. I won't go into details- they would bore you and I don't want to bore you.
What I will say is this: Though- I lack the mystic torque of ambition- I will attempt to rewrite myself.
and if this sounds like the ramblings of a mad woman- I assure you- it is.

2009-08-24T15:21:00.000-07:00

what I'm working on- commissioned piece.

2009-08-07T01:01:00.000-07:00

Title: Dr. Feelgood's 2nd cousin; Dr. FeelMildlyNauseous

(which-for the record, I do-feel mildly nauseous)

On the 29th of this month, I'll be participating in some sort of sketchbook, live drawing, sketching
thing- that I was invited to participate in. It sounded like a good time.(Plus there's beer. I like beer).
It will be Held @ All Asia on Mass Ave in Boston.
Come on down if your around or in town.
(Hey-that rhymes!)

****

2009-08-05T22:32:00.000-07:00

Cannibal Carnival
12"x 14" (oil on panel)

I loved this painting. It went missing during my last show. Misplaced, lost, stolen- I don't know. It's a mystery. I'm trying to be all Zen about it and not let myself get too bothered by it. So far, it's not really working. I suck at being Zen.

2009-08-04T01:21:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I was inspired to paint this painting after a ride around Richmond.

I was in Richmond VA. That was some seriously depressing shit.
There's some really beautiful houses- that have been burned out and left to fall down. There are big billboards advertising steal reinforced doors for your house to protect from "Kick-In s". That was kinda disturbing- What happened to the good ol' days when people put forth a little effort, took pride in a job well down. Now-adays, people don't even bother to learn the basic criminal skills. People used to know how to Jimmy a car door open, pop the transmission with a screw drive, hot wire a car- now- these lazy bastards just car jack ya and take the keys right out of your hand. And now it's come to Kick Ins. What ever happened to picking a lock or climbing in a window. Does no one care about the quality of their work anymore. It's dishearting, it really is.

(took these pics of Lee's Headquaters-from the safety of my car)

My new favorite song: is Josh Ritter's 'leaves and kings'

2009-08-04T00:26:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamt I was pants shopping (I was shopping for pants, I was not pants that shop), then I was a blond elf running from flying grubs, who drop out of the clouds from web thread. I was running through the back yards of yellow row houses with long perfect green lawns, digging under fences and leaping furiously over whatever anyone could ever imagine to leave in their backyards. I was very fast and nimble. (in my real awake life- I am not very fast nor nimble.)
Then a man built broad, like a truck, came out of his house in a terrycloth robe and cotton boxers. The hair on his legs was gray and sporadic. He had in his hand a thick wedge of greenish glass, like the bottom of a bottle. I was making good my escape, until he threw it like a skipping stone. It grazed the grass and caught me in the neck, embedding itself deep. I could feel it in the most vivid way – just as much as i’ve ever felt anything awake. I laid down on the side of a soft grassy hill and bled out ‘til the alarm went off.
Still I woke up only mildly bothered. It wasn’t an entirely bad or unpleasant dream. It should have been, but it wasn’t. It felt oddly familiar and comforting.
so i painted this fella (above).
I've used these colors before- they're very vanilla sky-ish. Which to me feels dreamy suburbia -ish and all the scary scary things that go along with that sort of thing.

It 4:03 a.m.

2009-07-11T01:03:00.000-07:00

I've got a show to hang tomorrow at All Asia in Cambridge and I'm still working on two of the pieces. The dead rat is gone. I was feeling bad for him. But then I had to come up with $40. to pay to have him removed. now I just feel hostility towards him. Which is an improvement, as far as I'm concerned.

Still driving around with a dead mouse.

2009-07-07T23:10:00.001-07:00

"Can I smoke in here?"

2009-07-07T01:13:00.000-07:00

This is a bunny I did for an Easter show.
I feel very warmly towards this piece.
I think I may keep him just for me-seeing
as he warms the very cockles of my heart.

"Drunk By Noon"

2009-07-07T00:49:00.000-07:00

There's a dead mouse in my car's heating vent. Rich (my mechanic and one of my most favorite people in the whole wide world) has this nifty little video camera on the end of a long skinny probe that he threaded down into my vent and you can watch the happenings on a tiny monitor- that's how I know it's a mouse. I saw it's little corpse on the little monitor. The mouse is pretty deep down in there- I have to bring it back tomorrow so they can spend some time with it. S0-Me and the dead, stinky mouse drove around running errands today. Did I mention my mouse is stinky. Oh-he's so so stinky. You wouldn't think something that little could smell that bad-
but you'd be wrong.

2009-07-05T20:17:00.000-07:00

Here is my journal.

As you can see- I have blued out all of the incrimin-
ating (i.e.the
most
interesting)
parts-

sorry for that.

I am gonna, in earnest, try to update this here blog regularly. I promise and this time - I'm pretty sure I mean it. Speaking of things I keep saying I'm going to do-but have yet to do with any real consistency :
I must stop smoking, really- Although I enjoy it so very very much-it will most
likely kill me.
or not.
I wish I knew.
What if I die of something, in no way connected to or associated with smoking.
Then - there's no reason for me to quit. (and don't give me that being healthier crap, I don't care about being healthy. If I'm not in any physical discomfort/pain and I don't smell bad - that's really all that matters.)
There are lots of other ways to die- other than smoking related deaths. For example: An anvil or a safe or a piano could fall out a window on me - or I get syphilis -(and die insane because it went undiagnosed). In which case I can smoke all I want and really should. Definitely. I think if you're gonna go mad and die from an STD- then smoking is definitely something you (or me in this case) should do and do a lot of. But - I suppose - since I probably don't have syphilis- and with my luck - will not be hit on the head with a falling anvil, safe or piano - I should probably quit smoking.
And I will.
Not today.
But eventually. I will.
I'll do it when I get back from Florida. I'm going to florida.
I can't quit smoking just before a road trip. That'd be
crazy.

my messy notebook

2009-05-24T18:35:00.000-07:00

2009-05-23T00:36:00.000-07:00

Every summer, I quit my job.
Every year- I promise not to- and I mean not to. That's when the weather is cool and crisp. But then spring comes and I start getting twitchy. By May-I'm downright itchy. I didn't even make it to summer this year.
I quit the day before yesterday when we hit 88degrees.

[Instead of going to work - painted a nice little painting using just red, white and black. I'm trying-out using a "limited pallet" . (I haven't got a title yet. - oil and acrylic on 8" x 10 "canvas)].
I meant to just bang out for my shift- but accidentally blurted out that I was leaving the state and wouldn't return 'til the fall.
"You promised you wouldn't do this - this year" Keith- (He's my superviser) reminded me. Which is true. I had promised.
"I know, I did."
"But here we are again." He continued.
"Yes. We are."
"Will you be back by the first Monday of September? Do you think you'll have gotten this out of your system by then?" He asked.
"Yes. I think so, definitely." I answered.
"O.K. then- lets just call this a leave of absence then- Ok?"
"Yes. O.K" I agreed. and he hung up without saying 'bye'.

But, all and all- it went so much than it did last year. Last year I quit face to face. That was a mistake. He threw an two IV bags at me (not at the same time- he threw one- then the other. Both of which I deftly dodged. I weaved and bobbed like GW Bush during that loafer attack.) This time around, it was practically painless. Keith's so much more easy-going and all around pleasant since he got divorced, started driving a yellow Mustang and grew a goatee.

2009-05-14T13:24:00.000-07:00

I write incessantly in my notebook ( a lovely squared Moleskin that I bring everywhere). I sketch and doodle, but when it comes to blogging- I am woefully behind. So- to fix this. I am going to start scanning in the pages of my notebook. this should solve my apparent blog phobia.
But for Today- I will type- for some reason I'm in the mood. Though, really I shouldn't b e in the mood to do anything but hide down in my bed with the covers pulled up tight. the day has been long and overcast and cold. Nothing has gone even remotely right. First off the Dewey Decimal dyslexic librarian lost my list of lies, now a whispering swooping gull, like an Aztec painted python planted in my skull, snickers unpleasant thing about unsupervised toddlers falling off swings.

Finally-I've written my artist statement

2009-04-23T12:25:00.000-07:00

Who I Am. What I Do.
&
Why I Do It.

My father harvested lush leviathan fields. My father was a fisherman of the Atlantic. He worked the dark chambers of her vault for god's awful crush. It took all of him. (Like Jonah sucked pale, pigmentless by the bile in the belly of a whale.)
Along the cold coast, he'd discard what was without value. He'd clear his nets of sand sharks. Dozens dead, laid out side by side, like large sardines or soft torpedoes.
I'd watch, standing back high on top of a steep shore slope, gripping the black roots of an old dead cypress for balance, where the sea had eaten away at the cliff and the land had fallen away winters ago, exposing the gnarly undercarriage and insect nature of her slick pedigree.
My father lined the shore with sand sharks to keep me from the sea, to insure that these hands would not be his. My wrists, we both always knew would never thicken with work.
When he'd gone, I'd walk down and around them barefoot, use the flat of my heel to push on their rough white bellies and sometime, dead baby sharks would be pressed out, perfect replicas or their parents, but only the size of trout.
My cousin Josh had taught me that. I don't know how he came to find this out, maybe some kind of happy accident, maybe someone showed him, maybe lots and lots of people do this sort of thing. Maybe it's all very common.
We (me and Josh) had a fort in the forest, not far from the shore line. We'd lug lots of them there.
We'd hang sharks (big and small) whole from low slung branches. When we'd filled them full, we climbed higher. Sometimes (several times actually) while tending my dead, I'd lost my grip, fallen from her limbs salting my sternum with slashes, gashes and sores. But everyday, daddy's nets brought more. The trees were practically full.
The birds would peck away pieces and at night, rats would bore perfect holes in the meat. Eventually all the flesh would rot and recede down to the gristle and that too would finally fall to the ground and be carried off by squirrels or such. Only jaws and some spine would remain intact. The gulls would swoop and scream "Father, all your sons are here" in my slack jaw forest.

2009-04-10T22:44:00.001-07:00

Sunny and 60 degrees today.
I haven't slept for more than a total of 8 hours in the last four days. So, figured I'd started taking vitamins, than the good that that would do me, would cancel out the harm I'm doing to myself by not sleeping. So I went to GNC and bought a big bottle of Super Great Multi-Vitamins (I know they're the super great ones because they're the most expensive ones. Always remember: Most Expensive=Best)I'm supposed to take three a day. Problem is--each pill is about the size of an ipod shuffle. (Which is small-when you're talking something that can hold 120 songs, but not so small when directed to swallow it.) Still I'm in a pretty good mood. I think I'm in that weird euphoric phase of sleep deprivation--yeah, pretty sure that's what's going on here. Painted a painting, packed two paintings and sent them out, bought painting and packing materials (I accidentally stole some packing tape). It really was an accident, forgot they were there under the big boxes in the cart.
Accidental theft is actually pretty nifty. You get all the benefits of having not paid for something (i.e. enough money to buy a venti mocha latte triple shot instead of the usual red-eye) and none of the draw backs of having stolen something (i.e. no guilt or pesky shoplifting charges).
ok-bye bye

2009-04-09T12:23:00.000-07:00

Went to sox game last night-frickin' freezin. Tampa Bay won. Me and Micky ate steak,peppers and onion sandwiches, beers and cake with icecream.

2009-04-09T12:22:00.001-07:00

So- We're in the truck and I'm not driving-I never get to drive. We're supposed to switch off, after each call. But Nelson never lets me drive- so I spend the entire shift teching every call we catch.
I would usually say something, I'm not shy about sticking up for myself, but Nelson's an odd duck.
He just randomly asks me, last night, "do you own a gun? have you ever owned a gun?"
"no" I tell him, "I do not own a gun. I have never owned a gun."
This is not the right answer. He starts yelling about how every chick needs a gun for protection and don't I won't to protect myself and now he's actually yelling at me, not just talking excitedly and in an animated fashion, but actually getting angry and I start to honestly wish that I did have a gun or at least a tazer or a pointy stick or something.
He goes on for a good five minutes before stopping and demanding I answer for my pinko commie unamerican, non-gun owning ass.
So- I tell him, "If I had a gun, I would shoot someone."
Silence.
He looks over at me - looks back at the road out in front of him - then back at me.
"Who?" he asks.
"I don't know...someone"

Our next call comes in @ approx. 0340 - arrest with CPR in progress.
Nelson asks me if I want to drive or tech? I say "drive" and he actually lets me drive to the call, lights and sirens all the way. All very exciting.
And I was in such a good mood-that when, I got home, I painted a rat skull with big fangs and a little crown on its head.

2009-04-07T16:49:00.000-07:00

Ya'll come back now, ya hear.