The Boxer

The Boxer (2009)
9"x5"x4"
Bronze edition of 5

photograph by Phil Holland www.PHFX.com

The Boxer

It was a hot summer night in 1986 and I was losing the Somerset Court Cruiserweight title fight. My opponent was Koquis, a ruthless fighter with a wicked left hook and a rock chewing smile. I had devised a plan that was failing miserably and was contemplating letting him tire out by beating me to a pulp. I was tired and wanted to quit. One of my gloves flopped awkwardly. The eighth round brought a barrage of punches that can only be described as a rain of fire and torment; I went down. I wanted to stay down, I wanted to go home, and I didn’t want to fight ever again. I wiped the sweat and blood away from my eyes as I focused my vision and staggered to my feet. The referee asked me if I could continue. So I looked to my left for guidance, instructions, someone to throw in the towel and found no one. In my despair, luck couldn’t have had better timing. I looked to my right and found the only thing that could get me out of that hell: inspiration.

Her name was Angela, and she was the court manager’s daughter. Her eyes were a piercing ice cold blue and with a glance she could turn a desert into a blissful winter wonderland. She had dark hair, fair skin, and a smile, that would make you turn the deed to your house over to her. She was seated near Koquis’ corner and as the ref asked me if I could continue, I saw her smile up to him. Koquis returned a smile full of rotten teeth, bad breath, and purple gums. Jealousy and rage filled my gloves and my stomach knotted up so tight a chainsaw couldn’t have cut through it. My senses stiffened, my vision sharpened, and my body numbed. I told the ref I was ready. I was filled with anger and poise as I shuffled towards him. He was expecting me to retreat so he rushed me for the kill. I stepped in with a cork screw jab. I dropped a straight right into his gut. I felt the wind come out of him and his hideous mouth trembled. He threw a straight right back at me and I parried outside to the left. He then threw a wild left; I ducked under, stepped to right, and came up with an uppercut. I saw his knee buckle as he tied up with me and he was not yet aware that the wind had been knocked out of him. I held on and dragged him towards the center of the ring and in that split second I heard the awkward silence of the crowd as they tried to register what was happening. I dropped a shoulder into his chest as I side stepped to the right, pivoted left, and delivered an overhand right straight down on his nose. He dropped, his nose was gushing blood, and his teeth gnawed the sky for air. The crowd went hysterical as they saw their 7 to 1 favored champ wither in pain. I walked back to my corner with adrenaline rushing through every vein in my body. I wanted him to stand up, I wanted him to come at me, and I wanted to destroy his wretched mouth so that it may never smile at her again

The bell rang, the crowd cheered, and I was lifted up on the people's shoulders as the belt was handed to me. "You beat him, You beat him" they shouted. "You're the champ, You're number one. We knew you could do it." There were many good fights, but none as good as the fight from summer of '86. Nothing will ever come close to the moment in which I won the Somerset Court Cruiserweight title belt, looked over to Angela, and saw her smiling back.... at me.

Veronica (bronze)

Ladies and gentlemen I introduce to you

Veronica (2009)
14"x7"x5"
bronze edition of 8



and If you haven't read her story yet, here it goes again.
----------------

Veronica

I met up with her at Ferns in Long Beach and by the sound of her voice on the phone she was on the last furlong towards rock bottom. Her short sleek black hair stuck to the tears on her face and her eyeliner ran like oil puddles on rainy days. She sat at the end of the bar near the restrooms and I was walking straight into an Etta James song. I swatted the barflies away and sat down next to her….

“What happened now, baby doll?”

She doesn’t answer. I ordered up another round and I give her a few minutes to compose herself. I knew she had just given her old squeeze the boot; she had been announcing her single status rather heavily.

“That video hurts so fuckin' much Rooster.” She quivers

“I know it does doll,” I respond whole-heartily.

The video she speaks of is a video of her freshly released ex-boyfriend being rather provocative with some girl at one of those college bars full of douche bags. Someone found it on the internet and sent it to her, funny thing is they really thought they were doing her a favor.

“His fuckin’ face in her muthafuckin’ ass! In her fucking ass!!” she shouts while griping her glass of wine. “He was just smiling, looking so enamored with her while his nose is in between her ass cheeks… Just fucking smelling it.”

I saw the video and I envied the fucker. It’s the kind of thing that separates you among other men. The kind of shit you brag about when you’re drunk. It’s like some one saying I climbed Everest and then you saying that’s cool but have you ever had a big fine ass rubbed in your face? I know the fucker was beaten up over losing Veronica – but I swear you could literally see his heart mending as he went further and further into her ass. That’s how nice that ass was.

“She don’t know me Rooster, she don’t know how much I meant to him. That bitch needs to know how much I fucked him up. How I made sure that he was damaged before I sent him out in the world to meet girls like her. How he'll never be over me,” she says that last line with broken pride.

“He fucked her didn’t he? By the looks of that video you know he ate her pussy too! I was his first, Rooster! I was the first girl he ever went down on! And now he’s just out there eating pussy left and right. I want to tell her… no… no… I want to SCREAM at her: I taught him that, you fucking cunt! That fucking orgasm that you just had in my man’s mouth you owe that shit to me! You’re fucking welcome!”

I order up another round and the tears start rolling again.

“Every time I look at their picture and at the fucking video I break down, Rooster. I literally have lost count of how many times I’ve looked at them,” she cries.

I wish I could say something to her to make her feel better but a broken heart is not so easily cured. If you want to know what it feels like to have your guts ripped out of your body - fall in love, then break-up.

“Rooster, do you think he loves her?” she asks in a pitiful voice.

“Darling, don’t ask stupid questions just have another drink”. I am against drinking with a broken heart; no good ever comes out of it. You cry and cry then you drink and drink but the pain never numbs. Also, you always reach a point when you become a bit belligerent and you stop caring about everything and Veronica was no exception…

“He looks so fucking happy in the video Rooster, happier than I ever saw him with me. And in the video he looks like he's having the best time of his life, but did he have to spank her so many times and so fucking hard?” Then she blankly stares off into space and starts to scream, “He used to spank me harder… bitch! Fuckin' bitch! Fuckin' Chipmunk looking cunt!! Fuck you Rooster if you think she’s cute! And, furthermore, I'd be very careful to mention that I was the asshole in the relationship and applaud the fact that the stupid asshole has moved on!!” Her rage is full force now and this ship is headed for disaster.

I know the kind of damage Veronica did to this poor sap – so, yeah, I do applaud the fact that he was able to bring her down to this point – but I don’t tell her that.

I grab her and we smash into the street before we get kicked out from the bar. I hail a cab and hog toss her into the back seat. She was barely coherent when I dragged her up to her place. I tossed her in bed and gently took off her shoes. I went into the restroom, stuck my finger down my throat and purged out my own sorrows.

When I go back into the bedroom she is standing on top of the bed with a strange look in her eyes. She starts screaming and crying… a combination of drool and snot coming out of her. “Why, Rooster? Why did he do this to me? Does her fucking pussy taste better than mine???? Does it?! I refuse to believe that a night of licking her ass erases 3 fucking years of me… of my pussy, of my ass, of OUR life! My pussy tastes sooo good, so much better than hers!” She falls to the mattress and sobs. I hold her till she falls asleep. I can see her chest raising and falling under her tight top. My mind starts going wild with thoughts... if she weren't so drunk, if I wasn't so drunk, if she wasn't so broken, if I had a condom.... I fall asleep.

I woke up with a mild hangover and the sun shining down on my face through the window. I get up and raid her medicine cabinet for mouthwash and a couple of Alka-Seltzers. I go over to check on her to make sure she survived the night, sadly she did. The only thing worse than drinking with a broken heart is being hung-over with a broken heart. It hurts so bad that you wish you would have never woken up. She wakes up and even though she has been through a hell of a battle – she has never looked so beautiful. Damage and all.

“Rooster, how the fuck did we get home?”

“A cab”

“I don’t remember leaving the place. Hey! You didn’t fuck me while I was out did you?”

“No.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“I'm still here.”

“Well, thank you. I’m sorry for suggesting it. I know you wouldn’t do that to me. Let me give you some cab fare.”

“That’s alright, I copped a feel on you as I carried you up to bed, I would feel guilty taking your money after that.”

She smiles.

-Red Rooster and Anonymous Doll 2009

Jazz baby!

These are a couple of sculptures commissioned for the 1st annual San Diego Jazz musicians guild contemporary art show. The theme was "What is Jazz to you?"
Photographs taken by Phil Holland www.phfx.com

The Abstract Trumpet
5" x 8" x 3"
Bronze edition of 5



Abstract Sax
9"x 5"x 2"
Bronze edition of 5