Instant Pink!

Ya, I know..I keep slacking on updating my shoots. I'll catch up someday. It's a life a goal.

Let me tell you a bit about this new band I recently got out to shoot.

The Lloydminster based Instant Pink, classified as Techno/Thrash/Surf on MySpace, describes their sound as "Two snakes being rubbed together by three robots having intimate relations."

Instant Pink will make you shake your head and laugh if you dare expect a serious answer. They are obviously silly and ready for a good time. The attitude of the band is to defy the norm. They poke fun at cultural cliches while challenging everything about themselves that could be classified. Pure entertainment.

The best I can do is tell you to check out a show and do your best to make your own decisions about them. Chances are, you'll be too caught up in the energy of the show to think of anything else.

If you are anything like me, you'll find yourself thinking "What the hell was that?! I think liked it. Give me more!"

Confessional: Unrequited Love

**This is a blog post I wrote a few years back and I thought I'd share it.**

There it is. A crack of light escaping a secret place. Shining for all too see. I`m unsure what unsettled my carefully laid foundation, & years of reinforcement, but something did...

I may as well admit the truth of it, before you go poking around, trying figure it out for yourself. I was an artist. A professional and a teacher. Paid. That was my official title: Artist.

I say `was` because I don`t do it anymore. No, I don`t know why... Perhaps in my writing today, I`ll find out.

I took to two quotation`s by Buddha when I was a teen. I scrawled them on the inside cover of my tattered sketchbook the moment I heard them.

"You are what your deep driving desire is.

As your desire is, so is your will.

As your will is, so is your deed.

As your deed is, so is your destiny."

"Your work is to discover your work,

& then with all your heart, to give yourself to it."

I suspect I locked it away because it once was my everything. My passion..pride..escape..acceptance. My identity.

One day it became my work. The logical next step for me in everyone`s mind. Even my own. I was, of course, a little apprehensive. Not unlike a new mother, leaving her babe with a stranger for the first time. No one knew my creations as well as I.

I poured my soul into my work. No one saw me behind the art. Pieces of my soul became mere objects to be bought and sold. The value always up for debate.

My value.

I pushed away the gnawing pain of a subtle betrayal & continued to work. I felt like a whore. I would sit on the street, in the park, even in the dingy bathrooms of a club - pouring my ink onto flesh. Simple nothings I knew would please them. It wasn`t the pennies tossed my way. It was the attention.

I ached to find the passion I once felt in their envy & praise.

I became empty. Never once looking inward to see what I had done.

"Every child is born an artist.

The problem is how to remain an artist."

-Pablo Picasso