I am just a weak, romantic artist, trapped in a mundane and lifeless sitcom of predetermined laugh tracks and all too predictable storylines.

Tragedies happen everyday. This is just another pit stop on the path to eternal anonymity.

The inevitability of our mortality is not something to be feared.


A political paralysis painted on canvas sewn from Stars and Stripes of red white and blue have defined our corrosive culture of conformity and consumption. Violence is a virtue of spiritual survival in a world where your god has been slain by a populace void of emotion. We draw lines of division to define our gluttonous greed and prop up our virtuous privilege of false freedoms and deplorable democracy. Watch the world burn or take a bow and be free. The most selfless act is one of choice and free will. Nothing of desire will be left behind and it won’t be long before the mourning turns to the next billing cycle. Forever asleep on the left arm of a forgotten.

Like the bricks that compose the constructs of cathedrals from a time known only through antiquated text, my bones deteriorate with methodic precision with every stride. My feet strike the blacktop with violent declarations of determination and my legs, although abound in exhaustion, remain incorruptible in their devotion to keeping…

The color pallet of human emotion is vast and diverse. Fear, guilt, anger, excitement, lust and even joy are all components of a greater collective that create the construct for each of our own unique individual personalities. Only when we can accept the faults and failures within these emotions in…

When all seems lost and the buildings begin to burn, we are left to look to the one who can paint portraits with words in rooms too dark for shadows to dance. Our history is a roadmap that makes up his skin and he alone can save us from the…

The suffocation of endless anxiety is a vehicle for debilitating depression. Emotions are lost in a vast ocean of numbing existence. The motions of daylight are merely shadows drawn on a brick wall built from rejection and social ineptitude. Expression only lives on paper where words go to die. The ink of a black ball point pen tell the tale of a broken heart. Let the world know rejection. Let the world know what only your heart has the courage to say. Show the world that statements can be made without a single word being voiced. Art is true faith.

The only sound in a sea of silence is that of flames crackling in the abyss of urban wasteland. The revolution of the ignorant and ill informed have opened the floodgates of anarchy rule in a catastrophic fog that will only thicken with time. Chaos is the only defense against…

Her fingers moved up and down the fretboard with the grace of fine ballet. Her bends were to perfect pitch and her right hand strummed in hypnotic rhythm. She danced through chord progressions with a fluid onslaught reminiscent of waves crashing to shore. The blend of piercing feedback mixed with…

Buried deep in the ash that makes up the hearts of the hopeless there is an angel crafted of crystal. She reflects the last remnants of burnt sunlight to dance off the peaks of the subtle waves from off our Great Lake. In a world left to rot , she stands for the revolution and rebirth of inspiration. Her courage consumes the underlying fear of emotional fortitude and illuminates the spirit of a once lost vision of progress. Her eyes hypnotize with the depth of the ocean and her smile is pure perfection.
She is beautiful beyond the simplicity of written word. She gives meaning to the journey.
Thank you for being you.

A chaotic catastrophe of a cathartic conundrum. The visualization of astute adroitness reaching a pinnacle of purity through audible exposition. Poetic rage draped in harmonic felicity materialized on a stage ravaged by social inequities and artistic lechery.

Art is for the courageous.

Only an artist can truly save us.

Doug Reaves

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