#chewshides

Rymus doesn’t NEED to eat or drink or do any kind of human function whatsoever, he literally just chooses to because he’s secretly really proud of seeming as human as possible at all times. catch this man drinking hot-chocolate and then casually spitting it into a sink a few hours later when everyone’s gone home 

SID U KNO My Twisted Mind ™ all too well… and u p much simultaneously summarised & reminded me why i write michaelmore in one message 😭 whenever i’ve been frustrated w/ writing on any blog for whatever petty mood reason you’ve always heard me out and been so supportive & understanding !! and whichever blog i hop to ur always all over my shit like bloodhound perk … THANK U SM your a tru wonder boy and whenever u send me random aesthetic posts to do w charas its like hit of serotonin 😸🏄‍♀️💗 

Laughter bursts out of her, a series of brief hisses caught in the back of her throat as her shoulders shake. Her grin isn’t painted in false appraisal, teeth gleaming from the harsh light overhead -- artificially resplendent in her amusement.  “You’re real funny... Tell me another one!” It’s a demand that could be chirped from a child starved for entertainment, never knowing when to quit, only tugged away by their mother’s protective hand when she eyes the clown up and down, discerning any potential threat with a glare only the matriarchal maternal are capable of dishing out.            And her mom would have reason to with him -- what with his make-up brittling off his face like thin, pale mud in the sun, creases of grey in white deepening his laugh lines. She guesses the maroon stains on his collar are from sloppily swallowed tacos; then she imagines he’s actually a heavy drinker who’s been renting the same room in a motel for the past month, alone. In a parallel universe he would host a failing children’s television show on cable.           She pities him, and it makes her smile desperate -- as if she’s on the precipice of a veritiginous bout of tears.

Because he’s PUNK. The art form coincided with a youth subculture that embraced the provocative in the performative. Instead of the fashion and music at the time, tattooing was a form that already appealled to Alex’s strengths of drawing and illustration, while providing the challenge of a more unconventional canvas than paper. He’s always been personable, even if he was more withdrawn and reserved when he was younger, direct communication with The Body is as personal as art can get for him. Tattooing, in the design of a piece and its process, relies on two people rather than one (you see where his monogamy comes from now..) and therefore there’s a strong foundation of community and belonging that extends past social & artistic ethos, into something tangible and profound. At its root, it is Art For the People – By the People.          In terms of style, drawing from iconography and mixing both pop and avant-garde culture resonates with Alex’s own tastes. Around the same time he became an apprentice in the early 1980′s, when punk had digressed into new-wave, Lal Hardy was becoming a known name within DIY community & culture and the effect of his work on Alex was similar to when a lot of people saw punk bands for the first time and thought ‘I can do that too’. This was after he got an apprenticeship, however, as it was Seb who tipped him off with the idea after seeing an advert next door to his own apprenticeship at a leather shop. (The pairing of leather shop being beside tattoo parlour is also something I’m [clenched fist] about, and especially when redacting leather shop – Alex being in California by his lonesome – there is a Loss.jpg signified in the setting rather than just the character’s state of mind).          It’s also one of the few professions where he’s paid to talk & touch someone while drawing on them and he can listen to music at the same time .. IDEAL !          

Well. Now who are you. 

“Can... can I ‘ave her back now...” His eyes constantly avert from looking directly at the clown’s face, blinking rapidly, pupils cutting around at at any and all occupied and empty space that isn’t  a broad and painted-on grin. “Please...”

beep beep how’s my portrayal? / accepting af / @chewshides