Show time

I'll be presenting new works at this groupshow

The Hive Gallery Group show and Performances
"November sculpture show"

November 7th, Saturday 8PM-12:30AM
$8 at door/ $5 for those dressed in Black and Yellow costume
Show runs November 07- 28

Embracing my demons

Embracing my Demons

A friend once told me that the only thing that keeps me going is this belief that my art will set things right for me one day. I asked him if that was a good thing. He told me, “it all depends on which day you wake up on. Some days will suck others not so much. The second you doubt it; all is lost”. I knew from the get go that my decision to be an artist was going to be a bit of a gamble. I knew about the rocky relationships and the shaky bank accounts before hand.

It was 2 am and I had been trying to start my car up for over half an hour. I was draining my battery and my patience and so was she. “We should have brought my car” she said. “I’ll get it started, relax” I told her. I knew, from the moment that I glanced into her eyes that she was no longer having it; the car, the Artist, this relationship, no more. A few days later she broke up with me, gave me the boot, over the phone. “I need some one better than me to push me, to make me feel better about myself” she told me. “Maybe if you were more successful” she said. “Think very hard about your decision baby doll”, I told her, “Because if you leave, this is it; There aint no coming back. There aint no coming back”. She didn’t even hesitate with her decision, “Ok then. That’s that”. I grew a bit bitter over the following weeks and dwelled in and out of depression. She really did a number on me. The main reason for my depression was not because she was gone but because I was looked down on as a failure by her. I became the deadbeat artist; the thing I dread most

Truth is, the last thing that I need is some girl who has trouble loving who she is and relying on me to push her. I don’t need some one making me feel bad about my decisions; about who I am. I’ve got goals that need to be met baby, I’ve got an agenda to stick to doll, and more importantly I’ve got the balls to get it done momma. Ol’ Honey throat himself, George Burns, said it best, “I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love than to be a success at something you hate”.

My car started on the first turn of the ignition today. He roared as he woke from his sleep. Every one down the street turned and stared as he strutted all of his American made Chrysler steel down 109^th street. Don’t get him wrong He’s not an arrogant car, he doesn’t claim to be the best car on the road, nor does he try. He is well aware of his faults; leaky transmission, leaky oil pan, his weak power steering pump, his faulty automatic choke, all his lights don’t work, below par body work, and he’s got a faulty gas gauge that always seems to get him into “interesting” situations. No, he’s not arrogant at all; on the contrary my car is confident. When my 1973 dodge dart strolls down the street, wrapped in black with tinted windows, sporting a set of Cragar SS rims, aware of his faults, people compliment him on his effortless sense of style. Drips I can fix, dents I can repair, but a sweet ride is hard to come by.

I am not a perfect man; I have demons, I have problems but I confront them and I have learned to embrace them. They have made me the artist, the sculptor, the rooster, the man who I am today. Sometimes they knock me to my knees sometimes they slap my in the face, but I always punch back.

Veronica

Here is one of my latest pieces. She is entitled Veronica. I have included the concept art for the piece along with several in progress photos and a story which I co-wrote with "Anonymous doll".

She measures 14"x5"x5" I have used Chavant le beau touche to sculpt her and she is to be cast in bronze. Click on photos to see full size image













-----------------------------

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 fucken’ 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 fucken’ 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.

“Everytime 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! Fucken bitch! Fucken 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?”

“Im 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

life drawing

I did draw her left hand, it just didn't fit in the scanner....

Monica

This is a work in progress of Monica, based on a drawing I made a few months ago.

P.S. that letter needs re-writing. It sounds bitter and desperate to me. Kinda like when you stop talking to a chick who really dug you, then she gets with some other dumb ass and takes pictures of them hanging out and doing all kinds of lovey-dovey shit and sends them to you trying to make you jealous and shit but she wishes she was still with you. the "P.S" part sounds cheesy too.......yeah, so I need to re-write that letter.

Portraits

I recently started doing Portrait commissions.
Here are a few examples of some portraits Ive done.

If you would like to commission a portrait from me I can be contacted at
xRedRoosterx@gmail.com
or at
www.myspace.com/xredroosterx

Cheers,
-Red Rooster

Rebecca




Lizz




Paige




Joseph




Gandih

Drawings

Here go a few drawings I recently made. They are drawn with Prisma color pencils while either intoxicated or starving. I tend to draw to keep my mind off eating, yet Im not skinny....sigh.
-Rooster

P.S. some of these letters are not real, I just thought they give the drawings a bit more back story.

La Mariachi (2008)

Many of you have been waiting for me to finish this babe for a while and I apologize for taking so long to do so. First off Id like to give props to my photogropher Phil Holland for doing such an awesome job on photographing her. Secondly shes up for Sale. you can own one of these dolls for $450. I only wanted to release 3 of these gals but then every one wanted to own one so I decided to double the edition to 6 one of a kind pieces. So If your wondering what to waste that stimulus check on why not support an artist. You can find the original story to La Mariachi here
Below you can read a new story I wrote entitled, "Good ideas and bad women"

La Mariachi (2008)


Good ideas and bad women

It was Sunday afternoon and I woke up from a bad dream nursing a hangover. I checked the call log on my phone hoping I didn’t piss off too many people with drunken phone calls. I wiped the sweat off my brow and stripped to my shorts. I reached for the bottle of club soda that I keep on the nightstand and draw back a good one while I listen to a message from a doll I’ve been avoiding for sometime now, “Hey rooster hope your doing fine, this is Tanya, I was just calling to say ‘Hi’. I think I saw you leaving the Powwow Saloon last Friday around 11. I think it was you. You where driving a silver Taurus or something. Anyways, give me a call when you get a chance alright, bye” Tanya is a girl I met one night while winging a buddy. There were hardly any women that night and for the sake of not letting a night go to waste we decided to talk to the only chicks at the bar. At the end of the night our friends exchanged numbers and since me and Tanya had a somewhat deep conversation about ball bearings and cheese cloth, I felt a little obligated to exchange numbers with her as well. We talked a few times on the phone but I cut the connection after I tried to get her to come over one night and she wouldn’t budge.

I decided to get some serious work done that night so I sat down and started designing some new sculptures. I had a few Ideas I had been playing with for sometime now and tried to put them down on paper. I quickly drew out some quick doodles to loosen up a bit then did a little playing with surface planes and curves. Tried applying them to some figures but could not get them to flow consistently. I wanted to start playing a bit more with light this time around but just couldn’t find anything that satisfied me. I opened up a few books looking for reference, and then did a little meditation. I turned up the radio and blasted some jazz for a bit hoping it loosens me up some. I ended up laying out some good designs but they still required a bit more structure and flow. One of the things I kept struggling with was trying to keep true to my original concept. Many times an artist can come up with a good idea but end up fucking it up by cutting corners. Nothing good ever came out of cutting corners.

A good idea is like a good woman. If you cut corners or have no idea how to handle them they can ruin you. For instance, say you see a beautiful woman at the end of the bar. You build up enough courage in you to go over and initiate a conversation with her. You sit around, have a few drinks, and enjoy each others company. She asks you where you’re from, what do you do, and all that. That’s her way of checking your qualifications and if you don’t live up to them she’s not going to give you the time of day. Now, let’s say you meet her qualifications, you guys go out a few times, you start a relationship, and then after a few months you start getting comfortable. You begin to cut corners on her, stop giving a shit about your appearance, let your gut go, and before you now it she’s thrown your ass to the curve. Then, a few months go by, you try and contact her, and find out that not only has she kicked you to the curve but she’s also found another man and to fuck things up a bit more she’s engaged. Then you turn to drinking and hookers and before you know it you’re ruined. Now let’s look at how this relates to ideas.

You’re sitting around on a Sunday night and you come up with a good idea. Assuming you have the proper qualifications to undertake this project, i.e. proper education, enough research, and funds, you decide to take the initiative and begin working on your idea. So a few days go by, your funds start to slip, then you’re challenged by an unforeseen problem, you begin to cut corners, and half ass everything just for the sake of getting this shit done. You finish your piece and it looks nothing like your original concept. You’ve wasted tons of money on this big pile of shit you created, you get depressed, you forget completely about your idea, and let the damn thing sit in your garage for weeks on end. Then a few months go by, you try and work on that good idea once more but find out that some other artist has already made that idea and done a better job at it. That artist ends up gaining recognition and selling the piece for a ton of money. You grow bitter, depressed, and turn to drinking and hookers. You’re ruined.

On the other hand bad ideas are abundant and easy to find. Just walk into any trashy bar on any given night and you’ll find a bad idea looking for company. You call it up on a Sunday night after 3 weeks of no action. You go on over and dance with your bad idea for a while. A few months go by, your bad idea calls you, and tells you that in 9 months shell probably have ideas you’ll be interested in. Since you don’t really dig your bad idea that much anymore, you end up calling her drunk one night, end up telling her to go fuck her self, and before you know it your bad ideas turn into bad days. This will also lead you to drinking, hookers and your ruin. So don’t half ass your shit.

Sunday, 9:12pm

Tanya: “hello”
Rooster: “Hey doll how you doin’”
Tanya: “I’m alright how bout you? How was your day?”
Rooster: “It was good got a little work done here and there”
Tanya: “That’s nice”
Rooster: “Yeah, hey listen I was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab some donuts or somethin’”
Tanya: “ha, you’re funny?”
Rooster: “what?”
Tanya: “nothing, but if you want to come over, that’ll be cool”
Rooster: “Over your place?”
Tanya: “yeah”
Rooster: “give me 20 minutes”

-Red Rooster 2008

Barstool Philosopher (2008)

What the fuck is the deal with drunks?
So I finally finished this piece entitled "the Barstool Philosopher". I tried a new painting technique this time around. I was a bit inspired by early German expressionism and the sloppy drunks that I run into at bars. These awesome photos were taken by my good friend Beth Ashby Ferrara, you can check out her work at, www.fotojedi.com Below is the original story I wrote a few moths ago when I first finished sculpting him. Hope you guys dig it. Safe drinking and sorry to all of you who received my drunk calls and messages this past weekend, cheers!
-Red Rooster







The Barstool Philosopher


The dim light of the bar hides her bite marks on my neck.
My lips are bruised, my shoulders are scratched and I got a knot on my forehead.
Ive got a slight headache from lack of sleep and my sunken eyes burn.
I take a draw from the cold bottle and place it over my knotted forehead as I think about her stupid dog figurine.

"You know that thing is worth over 200 dollars", she said. "...but I got it for 20 at a yard sale from some old lady who didn't know what she was selling."

"You got jacked", I replied.

Her eyes cringed and upper lip stiffened as she punched me on my chest.
I laughed at her sad attempt to hurt me.
I grabbed her slick black hair, pulled her head back and began to passionately kiss, suck, and bite her neck.
She bit my lips till they bled and scratched seven layers of skin off my back.
A Woman like that should be caged up somewhere.

The beer bottles clank, ping, and crash all around me and my pint glass is due for a refill.
I signal the bartender and order me up another Guinness.
In a low lit corner near the edge of the bar, sits the bar stool philosopher in search of an audience.
I recognize him by his forced desperate awkward laugh.
Hes trying to make friends with anyone at the bar but its only a sad attempt to sell his pathetic life story to anyone dumb enough to listen.
He pulls up the stool next to me and begins his sad song.

"Yeah man, I work delivering beers and barely make enough money to make it. My kid is the brightest in his class and I'm going to do what ever it takes to keep him at a private school. public schools in LA are gone to shits. My Wife is threatening to divorce me but is waiting till she gets her fucken car paid off. I'm trying to fuck this bartender here but I don't want her to get attached. Yeah, I know what its like out there on the streets man, I grew up in Pasadena. All those white people hate Mexicans out there but I'm a Chicano and I don't give a fuck. Yeah, I work delivering beer and barely make enough money to make it....you know what I mean man?"

After three beers hes resolved his problems and feels the needs to give me advise.

"You know what man, your young you should save your money and buy a house. My cousin Chayo just bought her house in Riverside. She's remodeling it and then she's going to sell it. Who beat you up?"

"Some girl"

"Aww fuck that I would never let some bitch treat me like that. My wife tries to tell me what to do and I'm like fuck that. I never trust a woman. One time my homeboy Stephen took his son to the movies and when he came back his girl was fucking some black dude. Fuck that if I found my woman with some Negro Id kill them both. I never trust women. But for real man, I'm a nice guy. you know what they call me? Gentle Giant. Thats 'cause I'm big and look mean but I'm a good guy on the inside. You should go back to school and get an education. My brother Rickey got out of jail when he was 24, went back to school and now he owns his own body shop. Its all about making money and fucking bitches. Never get married, that shit just fucks you up. Hey, have you been checked? (for disease) Fuck that homeboy go get checked tomorrow you just never know who these bitches been fucking. I remember back in 92 when the Riots happened me and my homeboy Rigo came up on a Street Fighter II video arcade game and set it up in his grandmas house and charged all the little kids a quarter to play. You see I've always been about making money. Hey, you should go Holla' at that girl over there, she hot foo'. Yeah man, I deliver beer and barely make enough money to make it."

He finally gets too drunk and belligerent and ends up getting kicked out of the bar. The bartender tells me,

"You shouldn't let your friend drink too much".

"I have no Idea who that dude is"

"but you where talking to him for a long time"

"He was talking, I was drinking"

"So, who beat you up?"

"Some girl"

"Why?"

"Because I'm a sculptor and I barely make enough money to make it............."

-Red Rooster 2007

Step 2: The Sketch

So next up is the sketch. I usually sketch out my sculptures ahead of time and use my sketch as a guide. I know lots of sculptors who don’t even bother with this part and dive right in. Thats cool too, I just like to plan ahead a little because it saves on materials in the long run and it just makes things go a lot faster when you visualize and know what the end product should look like.

This particular piece is based on the previous story (BIG TROUBLE in little tokyo). Its also a collaboration between me and my friend, a very talented sculptor known as Phil Ramirez. For those who don’t know Phil is one of the most talented toy sculptors in the industry and his work is insanely and ridiculously awesome. I am beyond great full and equally as honored to be working with Phil Ramirez.
So I have designed a frame that will house a sculpture of a woman that is being sculpted by Phil Ramirez. The Idea for this frame is that it will be made up of abstract arms and fists that signify a brawl. Then after I sketch it I take it to a photo copier and blow it up to whatever size I want to. This makes it easier to mock up and figure out how much material you’ll need.
This is the sketch. I’ll up date with pictures of the mock up and armature build later.