Nextdoor Invite, 2017

Guys, it's not me. Something I clicked like two months ago. I get three or so emails a day about this every time one goes out. 

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I mean it's me, but it's not me. An error, it's coopted my address book and speaks on my behalf.  

More soon, 

Mike

Sand, 1966

"Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman--a rope over an abyss...

What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end: what can be loved in man is that he is an overture and a going under...

"I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves.

Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer give birth to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicable man is coming, he that is no longer able to despise himself. Behold, I show you the last man.

'What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?' thus asks the last man, and blinks.

- Fred Nietzsche

Negative_Creep_2017

Young woman share your fire with me.
My heart is cold, my soul is free.
I am a stranger in your land,
A wandering man; call me Sand. 

Oh sir my fire is very small.
It will not warm thy heart at all.
But thee may take me by the hand.
Hold me, and I'll call thee Sand. 

Young woman share your fire with me.
My heart is cold, my soul is free.
I am a stranger in your land,
A wandering man; call me Sand. 

At night when stars light up the sky.
Oh sir, I dream my fire is high.
Oh taste these lips sir if you can,
Wandering man; I'll call thee Sand.

Oh sir my fire is burning high.
If it should stop sir I would die.
A shooting star has crossed my land,
Wandering man; she whispered Sand.

(Sand is whispered)

Young woman shared her fire with me.
Now warms herself with memory.
I was a stranger in her land,
A wandering man; she called me Sand.

He was a stranger in my land,
A wandering man; she called me Sand.  

Instagram

I've since gone private, but alas fear not, I'll post infrequent musings. 

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More soon, 

Mike

I look like this now, 2017

Within Kantian aesthetics, it's how you decide to frame a work that distinguishes it from kitsch and real art.  

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We're not even touching the notion of tying things up all nice and pretty with a bow. 

Rapt with gifts,

Mike

This upside down piano in the sky, 2017.

I'm excited to start a new advertising project that will showcase the best bits of my vision and style.

Until it's debut, I invite you to come and enjoy this world we have left and those hellbent on keeping it strange.  

More soon, 

Mike

Bizarro World, 2017.

*** UPDATE FROM THE REPUBLIC ***

If Socrates and Plato could see us now...

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This my right hand man, Bence, from Hungary. When he popped into the States, he never knew he was gonna get a whole different kind of education while under my tutelage.

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Boat drinks one day when this all blow over my dawg; just endure this backward-playing vinyl just a bit longer...

Mike

Curses, 2004

It's gonna be very uncomfortable for awhile as your ears readjust to the new sound of my voice. 

Not even sure you can call it that; it resembles now that sound from space that's a dull roar or some droning hum.  

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I have pointed out in previous posts that I'd be taking a new form; as things stand now, I have no reservations about revealing this now. 

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It was never my intention to be here all that long.

I'd gone to Iowa because I was told that was where real artists went, true practitioners of the dark arts so I was told.

Instead, I fell love and made too much time here.

No more, 

Grim

femmes d'une semiuncertaine age, 2017

"Women Of A Certain Age"

Women of a certain age

Made to feel that they gotta change

Some of them change their faces

But they don't smile the same

Some of them take night courses

Some of them get divorces

As the world gets strange

It's time for a change

Go on let your men get strange mama

Go on let the world get strange

Never change

Women of the world unite

'Cause all the boys they just wanna fight

And women of the world are born

To all the boys little wars

Mother, sister, daughter

The boys they just can't father

It's time to take the reigns

And lead us away from the strange

Go on let your men get strange mama

Go on let the world get strange

But never change

Never change

Never change

 — ARCADE FIRE DUDE CAUSING THE TINNITUS THAT I'M MOST SURE WILL TAKE MY OTHER EAR. 

Darkroom, 2017

Quite possible to jumble up the word, bathroom, and turn it into a darkroom these days.

Bathroom Cell(fie), 2017. Photo by Michael Clinard. 

Bathroom Cell(fie), 2017. Photo by Michael Clinard. 

Been a bit of a cloud over my vision these last few weeks. Not quite tears; more like hot, sweaty blood that's run into your eyes from some cut?!

Quite divorced from reality; I'd wish it never on a mortal enemy...but I have none.

Being Born, 2017. Painting and photo by Michael Clinard.  

Being Born, 2017. Painting and photo by Michael Clinard.  

Drawing and painting again; you're going to see me in my true form now one way or another.

More soon, 

Mikey

Peinture

I received this watercolor set from a friend of the family values back when I was 18.  

The watercolor palette of artist, Michael Clinard, 2017.  

The watercolor palette of artist, Michael Clinard, 2017.  

It's been 20 years; hello old friend.  

Started a band

And made the poster.

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Illustrating the HIV life cycle, 2017. Michael Clinard.

Portrait of the artist with the artist Lamar's fire upon his ear, 2017. Michael Clinard. 

Portrait of the artist with the artist Lamar's fire upon his ear, 2017. Michael Clinard. 

More soon,

Mikey