This is what I think is some interesting output from the previously mentioned epic night of painting.  The disjointed nature of this particular painting I think resulted from one too many brain cells dying from the aforementioned night of drinking.  It’s almost as if I painted those very same dying brain cells as they flew apart at the seams.  All the parts are present but they’re scattered and broken from my physical inability to keep up with the inspiration I was feeling at the moment, like someone feeling great and trying to dance but stumbling with every movement.  You know, I guess I could’ve been drunker because I realized all of this within moments of finishing this piece.

     Here’s a big bloody bruise of a red eye painting for ya.  That was my first impression when I picked this up and looked at it again.  A painting completed on exposed wounded flesh.