Red Tornado Art Productions©

Be sure to stop by on August 20 from 5-8 for some yummy samples from Buggy Whip Bakery! Cars, Tunes and cake! It's a good day!

You know you're a true artist if:

You buy expensive brushes, and have nothing to do your hair with.

You get a feeling of calmness from holding and stroking the bristles of your clean paintbrushes.

When going on a quick errand in your painting cloths you're finding people rave over the 'fashion statement' you didn't even realize you were making.

You know the difference between beige, ecru, cream, off-white, and eggshell.

You know more than 28 colors.

You paint more than you talk.

You draw your letters instead of write them.

You like to get plastered and paint the town red.

You're in love ... with your studio.

You know that art does not match your sofa.

You can make a whole painting using burnt sienna.

Today's guest blogger is P Sugdude, artist and thin guy with the metabolism of a passerine.

The creative process is in a constant and simultaneous flux of expiration and reclamation, forming and reforming itself within a continuum of vibrating, chromodynamic metaphors, vortexing itself around a grid of hyperbole and izms, defining and redefining its very nature in the macrocosmic soup of shape, form, color and beauty, intuiting, within the ethers of its own emptiness, its need to exist, its need to serve, emphatically, as a rite of passage, a ritual of convergence from its self-inflicted chaos into the bindu-point of its opaque perception and aesthetic nature, revealing the transparency of its archetypal existence deep within the collective continuum of our ever present and creative vegivision, serving as avant-garde, it guides the brush of our innovative complexities, our derisory compositions of need, transliterating the fragmentations of artistic appearances into the chimera of unexpected unifications from both figure and ground, circumambulating the mode of embellishment with the chiaroscuro of inadequacy and rectomfortitude, and finally, eviscerating the chromofeces of our masturbatory kinkaidishness as we praise the complete nonentity of the hyperbolic izm surrounding certain chromofeces within the quantitative processes of the creative arts. Fin.