Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A question for the ages.

Is the highway to the danger zone as dangerous as the danger zone?

Saturday, November 20, 2010

A History of Innuendo

Sunday, November 14, 2010


an interview in Interview Magazine (yes, I know, it's kinda funny) with the curator of SYNCOPATION, Francesca Gavin.


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Tuesday, November 9, 2010


Two photographs from SYNCOPATION, an exhibition curated by Francesca Gavin held at the Grimmuseum in Berlin, Germany. The first image is of one of my text-based posters and the second is of a video I made with my "cousin" Hennessy Youngman.

Photographs by Laura Gianetti, some rights reserved by Grimmuseum. The rest can be seen here at Francesca Gavin's blog

Sunday, November 7, 2010


... God ever did make.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

BLACK LIKE ME 10-20-10

Dumb people make dumb kids. Those dumb kids grow up to be dumb ass motherfuckers who end up producing even dumber children than they were. Likewise, fat people make fat kids. These fat kids grow up to be fat ass motherfuckers who end up making even fatter children than they were. Wrap this all up in a Puerto Rican burrito and you have the garrulous motherfuckers talking real loud in the seat behind mine while I’m trying to sleep on the 7:30am Chinatown bus back to Philly because someone in New York gave me a bucket of drugs that kept me awake the whole night and right now all I want to do is die or at least sleep on this fucking bus and I want to tell the bitch behind me to shut the fuck up but this is America and because of our 1st Amendment you aren’t allowed to tell people to shut the fuck up just because you don’t like what they’re saying or because you think they’re dumber than three rocks in a trashcan. I guess this is why America is great: freedom of expression. Even the dullards are allowed to chime in. “Lookit! The Chinese people they is like, they doing exercise, I think they want to work out they hips or somfing.” The bus passes a group of elderly Chinese women as they practice their morning Tai Chi exercises in an adjacent park. “It look sorta weird, but they so old and small, they cute though the way they move all slow, it’s like they stuck in some syrup.” Jesus fucking Christ. Why wasn’t I given the foresight to care about math and science while a youth in school, to heed the warnings of those who came before me that being able to read wasn’t something special, that everyone can read, but what would’ve separated me from those who can afford Amtrak and those who must use this god forsaken Chinatown bus, would’ve been an acute knowledge of algebra and chemistry, or at least the good fortune of being a bit better about saving my allowance? Is a little foresight too much to ask for? Perhaps it is. Perhaps foresight is too close to psychic powers and only special people deserve such abilities, people like saints, or people who have never lied ever, or kindly lepers, or crazy religious people who wouldn’t think twice about taking a homeless person into their own homes, or maybe like those people who have lived countless lifetimes and they’re really close to achieving a complete karmic bank statement of 0 and they’re thus on their final go ‘round on earth so they get laced with super powers, and if not super powers at least foresight. But for people like me, those who haven’t seem to learn anything during their life or lives on earth and repetitiously commit themselves to the same mistakes over and over again, people like me who lie, people like me who accept things like a bucket of drugs from strangers, people like me who aren’t good at math, people like me who can’t recite the alphabet backwards even at age 32, people like me who are controlled by their sex organs, people like me with bad posture, people like me who don’t call their mother’s on Mother’s Day or forget their father’s birthday, shallow motherfuckers like me who care more about what’s on someone’s Itunes more so than they care about world hunger or the environment. People like me, we don’t get foresight, or even hindsight for that matter, people like me just get a $10 seat in front of a Puerto Rican family, the both of us on our way to Philadelphia, a distant cousin of all harlots and abominations, no matter how hard it tries to wear the airs of Babylon.


I currently have work in Syncopation, an exhibition in Berlin, Germany.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

A question for the ages.

Why did that girl cheat on Mark Morrison?

Thursday, October 7, 2010


This would be the part where my girlfriend says all sleepy like "Jayson, what're you doing baby... come to bed." Then as I layed down to join her, Freddy would tear through her body and pull me into hell via an unbeknownst magic portal in my bed. As the both of us descended into hell Freddy would yell (the hell portal is kinda loud): "HA! YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND? HAR, HAR, HAR!"

This isn't meant to sound as pathetic as it does. it's supposed to be funny. laugh. LAUGH!

Friday, July 23, 2010

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Hard Sell. February 2011

It's been confirmed this week that I will be having a solo exhibition at Marginal Utility gallery in Philadelphia for February 2011. I'm pretty sure the exhibition is gonna be called The Hard Sell. The title will make sense once you see what's in the show, but that shits like mad far away. So yeah, ignore this post.

*Uhm, correction. As of today(10-20-10), I think that the exhibition will be called Formuhlism | The Hard Sell... And I'm pretty sure the name is probably gonna change again.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

See this painting in person

At the FUSS FREE exhibition, curated by Roy Miranda. The exhibition includes the artists, Dave Delaney, Matthew Kucynski, Hawk Krall, Martha Rich, Thom Lessner, Christopher Luxton, Adam Wallacavage, Matthew Michalak, me, Joel Flood, Carrie Collin, Don Vincent Ortega, Ted Passon, and Linda Smith.

This show is at the Shadow's Space Gallery in Fishtown.

Shadow's Space (above Kung Fu Necktie)
1248 N. Front St.
Philadelphia PA

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Motherfucking Kenn Kweder.

Mommy & Daddy by Kenn Kweder (1980). Probably one of my favorite songs ever right along with A Whole New World.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Black Like Me is back.

Once upon a time, I wrote a small column for a Philadelphia based newsprint-format publication, which will go unnamed. This column was called "Black Like Me" and I wrote it for little under a year until it was removed from this Philadelphia based newsprint-format publication because of budget cuts the publication suffered due to decreased revenue from advertising sales (or so they claimed). While it did exist though, Black Like Me was wildly (un)popular and attracted the contempt of much of its Philadelphia reading audience as well as much of the staff at the Philadelphia Wee-- Fuck, I almost gave it away, huh? Well I'm not that simple reader! Who do I look like? Mixelplix? You'll never find out what paper I wrote for! Anywayzzz: Occasionally, some junkie ragamuffin or beatnik would come up to me, smelling of heroin and jazz music, and say "I really enjoy Black Like Me." This made me feel good, because for all the zany (drug-addled) gobble-dee-gook (gobble-dee-gook) contained within Black Like Me, I was really just a clown wanting to make people laugh with my silly clown words. So it is with great pride that I can announce that I will recommence writing Black Like Me for the Mad Decent blog on a biweekly (that means a fortnight, for some of you older folks reading this) basis. Some of you may know the Mad Decent record label through it's aryan front man/super producer Diplo, and some of you may know Diplo through the Grammy nominated track he produced called "Paper Planes" for Sri Lankan foot model turned freedom fighter M.I.A, and some of you may know M.I.A from her signature brown skin and blue wig. So to wrap this all up, please check out the first of many Black Like Me's at the Paper Planes blog. The link is below. I’m pretty rusty at the whole thinking and writing thing, but I promise they’ll get better as I go along. Or not.

Mad Decent Blog.


Monday, February 15, 2010

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Love is Strange

One day, a strange little bird whispered unto me. It said "Hey you. Yeah you, the one with the shitty posture and the ketchup stain on his shirt. Listen up: Love is strange, many people take it for a game. Don't be a chump and don't get played."

This peculiar bird then flew off in the direction of the sun, leaving me to ponder its macabre warbling.

Love Is Strange by Mickey Baker and Sylvia Robinson(1957)
OG version. When I hear Mickey's guitar and Sylvia's lithe voice, it makes me wanna f... I mean, it makes me wanna proliferate the species in a profligate manner.

Love is Strange by The Everly Brothers(1963)
This version is dope, it just sounds like two out of luck blokes sitting in a basement-turned-teenage-hooky lounge discussing how they'd get their baby back, but little do these guys realize that womyns like jerks, not sweet, honey-voiced lads that can harmonize even when they're snoring. Lose the suits guys, and pick up some heroin and Happy Days on DVD and get to studying the Fonze.

Love is Strange by Sylvia Robinson(from the album Pillow Talk, 1973)
Sorta has a Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club feel to it. It's pretty unexpected for this time period and I really like it.

why can't we all just get along?

White Columns

I made it onto the Curated Artist Registry at White Columns in NYC. Check out my page here. The registry is an online searchable database of approximately 600 artists. The purpose of the registry is to serve as a resource for curators, writers, dealers, and for any member of the broader public seeking the work of emerging and under-represented artists.