Normally, if you asked me what kind of music I listen to, I’d hit you up with the strangest of combinations. “Death metal, classical soundtracks, and more death metal,” I’d say. I might rattle off a list of obscure soundtracks, old school death metal albums, and artists from the early 90’s, and you’d probably roll your eyes.
It’s okay. That’s a normal reaction. Contemporary music just isn’t my thing.
When I get down to painting…
I sometimes get even more obscure.
So let’s dive right in.
These are my top ten music selections, whether artists or individual albums, to…
I never dreamed of being a traveler.
For many years, for most of my life, the idea of journeying far beyond my comfortable plot of North Georgia land stirred little interest in my heart. Truly, I’d have rather sat on my porch and sipped scotch beneath the evening clouds. I’d have preferred to garden in the sunshine, to build fires and roast marshmallows, to work in my quiet studio well after the rest of the world fell asleep.
It wasn’t the idea of leaving home that troubled me. I’d long ago journeyed to beaches, to deep forests, to faraway…
Hi there, everyone.
It’s been one hell of a year.
I’m not talking about the ‘Rona, the fires, the hurricanes, the end of the world.
I’m sticking to art, with which I’ve been obsessed for many years, but none so much as this one. While the world has been busy destroying itself, I’ve been locked away in my house, making a mess of things.
So today I want to share with you five of my favorite pieces. And with each piece, I want to talk about how it came into being and what the painting means to me.
I’m J Edward.
I paint. A lot. Maybe too much. Honestly, these days, it’s all I do. If I’m not painting, I’m preparing canvasses. If I’m not prepping, I’m conceptualizing new trees, new landscapes, new ways to end the world.
All day. Every day. And most of the nights, too.
Yes. It’s true. I have no social life. I live in a colorful hole, and I’m fine with it.
For the last two years, life has been good to me. I’ve found myself able to make a living almost purely via art. It’s a dreamlike state, and surely…
See that guy in the desert?
Ok. Not really. I honestly just liked the image.
My calendar, the one in my kitchen with the Hubble photos, the stars, and the big, red, fiery galaxy, says today is April something or other. The year 2020. It suggests today rests in the heart of spring. …
Prior to 2018, I’d heard only faint glimmers of the term, ‘Twin Flames.’
It was a far-off concept, something I’d heard my Aunt Sue and her patrons banter of. It was an airy thing, difficult to catch, hard to hold onto, and nebulous.
I heard these glimmers and paid them no mind. A curiosity, it seemed. Nothing more. Nothing real. Certainly nothing I’d ever encounter.
It’s good to be wrong.
Today I know better.
If I had to describe twin flameage briefly, I’d use two words:
Gravity. And Inexorable.
Gravity, because it is an essential universal force.
Inexorable, because there’s…
This next period will be the storm.
Putting off the pain is useless. I know that now. To be clear, this last year represented the first time I felt the emotion named love in my entire life.
I wish I were kidding.
Alas, I’m not. I’m 42, and I’m a broken-heart virgin. Were you to offer me a brutal beatdown at the hands of twenty strangers, a hundred whip lashes, a week without food naked in the wild…I would take it. God, would I ever. If it meant I didn’t have to feel this any longer. If some thunderbolt from…
The Box — A Poe-esque Poem
Am I dead, I asked her?
In a box, I did molder,
rotting, shapeless, my nightly sleep.
Dead, but dreaming, of what waited
beyond my comfortable dirt, beyond
my opulent world of worms and disquiet.
But when they asked, wake me none I said
until the day my box is broken.
And then the first of dreams
drained through the holes where nails once lay.
I listened. I woke. And pushed away the cold dirt.
My insides, new, pumped with raw life,
and I recalled the days I’d never lived.
The moon, she…
First World Problems and the Mantra of ‘Never Let ’em see you Sweat’
My life is pretty good.
And I don’t mean it in a rainbow-striped, Starbucks double latte w/whipped cream, fluffy kittens raining from the sky kind of way.
I mean it. Life is really good. I legitimately have no complaints anyone would care to hear. Or at least, none I’d ever dream of sharing…with anyone…ever. Complaining is for the birds, I usually think. The worst days of my life are probably better than millions of people’s best days. …
J Edward Neill writes fiction, sci-fi, horror, and philosophy — all for adult audiences.