We are The Death Rattle of Civilization.

From the Forrests, Streets, Freight Trains, and Wastelands.

Primitive and Barbaric Man have lived before, during, and after civilization. Whether in the woods or the dilapidated houses that represent the crumbling decay of an empire. To live under it but always outside of it, Man still lives in the violence of impulsively driven primitive societies. Put a banker, scientist, or professor on the streets of this dying empire, and he will tremble at the sight of Beasts sharpening their machetes and knives. The Primitive instinct and impulse of our ancestors' hearts still beat under bridges, within bushes, around burn barrels and boxcars.
The cultures and empires around them have changed their names, but beyond the thin veil of the empires food and circuses, the Caveman still dominates the land.

May the barbarians break loose. May they sharpen their swords, may they brandish their battleaxes, may they strike their enemies without pity. May hatred take the place of tolerance, may fury take the place of resignation, may outrage take the place of respect. May the barbarian hordes go to the assault, autonomously, in the way that they determine. And may no parliament, no credit institution, no supermarket, no barracks, no factory ever grow again after their passage. In the face of the concrete that rises to strike the sky and the pollution that fouls it, one can well say with Dejacque that “It is not the darkness that the Barbarians will bring to the world this time, it is the light.” — Crisso/Odoteo

Tried my hand at a futurist style of art

“...only the one who knows and practices the iconoclastic fury of destruction can possess the joy born of freedom, of that unique freedom fertilized by sorrow. I rise up against the reality of the outer world for the triumph of the reality of my inner world. I reject society for the triumph of the I. I reject the stability of every rule, every custom, every morality, for the affirmation of every willful instinct, all free emotionality, every passion and every fantasy. I mock at every duty and every right so I can sing free will. I scorn the future to suffer and enjoy my good and my bad in the present. I despise humanity because it is not my humanity. I hate tyrants and I detest slaves. I don't want and I don't grant solidarity, because I am convinced that it is a new chain, and because I believe with Ibsen that the one who is most alone is the strongest one. This is my Nihilism.” ― Renzo Novatore

I waylaid them, as I had no mercy on men whom I knew only wanted to get my body to torture and kill. It was war to the knife for me, and I brought it on by opening the fight with a double-barreled shotgun and ended it with a cap and ball six-shooter. Thus it was by the fall of 1868 I had killed four men and was myself wounded in the arm

Changing this shit up

"Sleeping behind a tree in a public park, after hitchhiking many miles, my wife and I woke to a man attempting to rob me of my knapsack right out from under my head. My wife woke up, scaring the man off. Stricken with anger and fear for our belongings, we found ourselves a drainage ditch by the creek hidden off the path. We began to drink from a bottle of Jim beam we had stolen from the store, reliving our real first encounter with robbery. I grew angry, with thirst to deal punishment for this transgression against me. I donned my bandana for the first time, but not to pose for pictures. I searched for this man, finding his camp beneath a bridge. There I saw him sleeping with both eyes closed, surrounded by food and drink, far more than what my wife and I had. I stood over him, towering at 6'5 250 lbs. I dragged him from his warm, comfortable sleep and began to thrash him about the camp, scolding him and beating him mercilessly. Though I could have robbed him of all his comforts, all I took was a skillet."-JJ

Some call me a degenerate, others call me lazy, a criminal, mentally ill.

To them I say, I JUST DON'T FUCKING CARE

At the end of the day I'm just an artist.

A violent, messy, artist.

I Don't Care

Me about a month ago

Tonight we sharpen our blades, Hatchets, and knives. Fill our stomachs with scraps, grab the bottle of liquor, out the door, down the steps and onto the streets. Where unknown Beasts lurk, the safest place being hidden behind the treeline.









In other words, I'm homeless again, and I think landlords should be strung up.