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ARTIST STATEMENT

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I am a sculptor.  I come from a long line of relatives known for making things with their hands.

As a child, my mother would entertain me with her majestic-looking shadow puppets, and I have clear memories of my Father making obscene yet thought-provoking gestures at my French-Canadian Grandmother. Really, they are the ones who fueled my passion for art.

Despite being religious, my Play-Doh sculptures are atheist in nature. If asked to elaborate, I could say that despite attending church on special occasions, my sculptures do not attend church, ever. Then again, I could say something else. It just depends.

I have always had a fascination with the past, as I believe it holds the key to our history.  In fact, sometimes  I become so caught up in the past that my sculptures end up wearing braids and a bonnet, carrying their lunch in a pail and answering to the name “Half-Pint”.

When people ask where my art originates from, I smile.

Because really, they just had to be there.

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*The following works are from my “Innocence Lost” Gallery. Please be inspired at your own risk.

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“Innocence Lost“

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“This Is Your Brain On Drugs”- Bschooled

The vision for this breathtaking masterpiece came to me back in grade one and-a-half.  (Even though I’d started out the year in grade one, when my standardized test results revealed my IQ to be that of a developmentally-delayed grade two student, the principal had no choice but to advance me.)

One day, while studying the unit on Behavioral Neuroscience, the teacher decided to demonstrate  how various drug-environment interactions affected the neurobehavioral plasticity involved in the pathophysiology of addiction.

Picking up an egg, she told us that it was our brain. She then cracked our brain open, pouring the contents into a skillet that had been heating over a Bunsen burner.

Needless to say, I was shocked. The idea that something as seemingly harmless as hardcore amphetamines could turn the brain into a popular breakfast choice, was too much for my young mind to bear.

From that moment on, I vowed never to get high on anything but life.

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“Hooked on a Feeling” -Bschooled

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The vision of ironic resplendency came to fruition while I was  juggling the pressures of being  a both borderline genius and “the popular kid”.  I was burning out. Fast.

One afternoon, while desperately trying to muster up enough energy to show off my awe-inspiring monkey bar-swinging skills, a dodgy-looking grade three student sidled up beside me. I could tell by the way she wore her “Hello Kitty” shirt, the bottom tucked carelessly into the neck exposing her pale and fleshy midriff, that she was no stranger to danger.

“My name’s Trixie,” she said, revealing a mouthful of braces surrounded in goth-like black elastics. “But you can call me Trix.”

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t resist. “Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!” I replied, only half-joking.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I was in over my head.

“Looks like you could use one of these,” she said, pulling out an oddly shaped pill from her Miss Pac Man knapsack and handing it to me. Then, sensing my hesitation, she reached over and forced it into my clenched fist. “What’s your damage?” she said. “It’s no biggie. Besides, the first one’s free.”

Knowing I had no other choice, I took the pill.

And less than ten minutes later, I was flying across those monkey bars like…well, like a junked-up monkey.

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“Monkey on my Back” -Bschooled

This life-changing piece unhinged itself from my mind in a moment of pure, unadulterated adrenalin. I was hooked. Drugs had become my drug of choice, and there wasn’t a darn thing I could do about it.

That night, I was jonesing something fierce. When my mother found me digging through her medicine cabinet trying to open a box of glycerin suppositories with my teeth, I knew my gig was up. “What’s wrong with you?” she screamed.  “Why are you shaking like that? And why is there icing sugar under  your nose?”

I told her to quit harshing my buzz, but I knew it was no use. Finally, I broke down and confessed everything. .

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“Cold Turkey”- Bschooled

.*While technically “The Snuggie” wasn’t invented yet, I sculpted it around the turkey anyway, purely for symbolic reasons.

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My mother held a last-minute intervention, and after hearing an emotional plea from Delores, our two-doors-down neighbor, I finally agreed to get help.

I spent the next three hours in an intensive detox program in the attic-turned-rehabilitation center. And while I was busy “getting the lead out”, my mother was busy calling 911.

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“Help From The Doh-knot Patrol” -Bschooled

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A police officer went to the school to confront Trix. Afraid she’d be given an extensive cavity search, she told him that the pill wasn’t a Methamphetamine, but rather a “Flinstone Vitamin,” something I’d never heard of since my parents were firm believers in the healing power of love and cod liver oil.

While the confession left me with a lot of unanswered questions, it did explain the fruity taste, and why my dopaminergic degeneration/ meth-mouth test had come back negative.

Regardless, the experience changed me forever. Not only did it teach me a valuable lesson about the importance of something relating to something drug-related, it also brought me closer to our neighbor Delores, who showed me that unconditional love in the form of 100-proof whiskey is the only drug I’ll ever need.

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A few weeks later, I asked my Magic-8-Ball Paper Sculpture if my dream of becoming a famous, six-figure earning Play-Doh sculptor would one day come true. And do you want to know what it said?

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“Magic 8-Ball Paper Sculpture” -Bschooled

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(FYI, when I tried again I got “It is decidedly so.”)

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*Thank-you for revering my brilliant works. If you’d like to place an order, email me at bschooled@hotmail.com for a quote. (Please note the average piece will take approximately 4-6 weeks to go from my mind to your grateful hands.)

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