First blog post in 3 1/2 years. Fuck. Oops! My sister (the really smart one who speaks seven languages fluently, save potty-mouth) says I use the word “fuck” way too much.
Well, quote the word “ass” and then kiss it, darlin’. I just don’t give a shit anymore, know what I mean? I just turned 50-fucking-five, so fucking deal with it.
Astonishingly, the point of this post is art, not profanity.
pecifically, the gifted vision belonging t Ted Casablanca Gallery photographe Jim Cox.
im’s one of about fifteen exceptionally talented contemporary artists I just opened the gallery with. And when I was painting (and re-painting) the gallery this past summer, it was Jim’s idea to coat JT right alongside my Blanched-Pine walls.
im’s a master at combining nature, human form and people-made scenarios, such as stark environments and sexual verve.
ndeed, Jim’s not unlike many of our artists: he’s an astute observer of what’s going down in the world, i.e., the need to run naked through everything is still a pretty good idea, especially if you want to shake things up, and I don’t just mean your mood.
Indeed, listen to what’s on JT Holemann’s mind as I interview him during the shoot.
nd if you think JT’s pushing it with all his beautiful everything hanging right out there, well, mark my merde, honey, he’s not wearing that much less than any Kardashian gal I ever interviewed.