These are my drawrings from 1996-1997. Concocted while flying high on espresso, yerba mate and rubber cement fumes. They are pretty graphic, rude, amateurish and very cryptic. I still don't get what they mean.
I do appear in every collage much the way M Night Shamylanaynshamanyan has to put himself in every movie. Egocentric? Sure. Only I never cost a studio billions of dollars to make a steaming pile of caca about Ron Howard's daughter or Mel Gibson's paranoia.
Enjoy. Someday when I jump into the cooling tower of a nuclear plant on a gin induced suicide bender, these might be worth something. Like five bucks or so.
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