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“Monster, stop drawing on the walls!” 
That has to be one of my most vivid, repetitive memories from my childhood. I drove my parents nuts, but I couldn’t help it. Everything was art and everything need art on it. As I got older, I was even more inspired after seeing the work of an uncle who excelled in graffiti work. By the time I reached high school, I was constantly in the art classroom, even when I was supposed to be somewhere else, and it paid off as I won awards to show for my efforts. By the time I graduated I knew exactly what I wanted to do, a couple of friends had asked if they could get my artwork tattooed on them and it finally hit me, why not to the work myself. I found an apprenticeship and my decade long career as a tattoo artist and piercer began. 
    Now that I pretend to be a grown up, because let’s face it there’s no such thing, art is where I find my center in the chaos of daily life with my beautiful wife and amazing son. I take my sketchbooks with me everywhere I go, and whether it’s a hazy dream that bubbles back into my waking consciousness, some wicked street art I passed on my way to work, or a wonky looking face staring at me from the depths of a wood grain that caught my eye, art is still everywhere. 
And everything still needs art on it.