I like to dabble with a paint brush. I assume this is what people say when they are embarrassed to call themselves an artist. I paint once in a while and my work is mediocre at best. My process consists of red wine, manly candles (think leather or tobacco) and music. Usually that would be Radiohead’s classic album, OK Computer. Showing others my work is definitely the bravest thing I do in my life along with writing.
There are a grand total of 3 of my paintings currently on display in the world. They aren’t hanging in a gallery or sprayed on the side of a rail car. My best friend has a Kokanee beer can homage to Warhol’s Campbell Soup image in his house that I painted for him. My parents have a tattoo inspired Japanese koi painting in their living room that I painted and gifted to them. The third piece hangs in my bedroom and most people find it a bit odd. It is a large, close up portrait of men’s style icon Nick Wooster.
Nick Wooster is my style icon. It is not that I try to emulate him because…well he is Nick Wooster. I appreciate that he is short, like me. I also appreciate that he is aging but getting better with age. I was so inspired that one day I felt the urge to paint his image on the biggest canvas that I could find.
I don’t know if its the sunglasses but it really feels like Saint Nick is always looking at me. Not judging but rather inspiring me to make better style choices. Really, who would be better suited than the Woost god himself to moderate my wardrobe. It is kind of a “mirror, mirror on the wall” sensation where all of my daily choices have to pass through his approval. To me it may be inspiration…to others it may read more like “no wonder you are single with that creepy dude watching over you.” Either way, we got this Nick.