Over the last five or six years, I’ve been involved with a project by an artist and collector named Jim Kasper. In January 2026, that project will come to fruition with the publication of a new book featuring the work of many excellent painters and drafts-persons. These artists are drawn from a range of generations, backgrounds, and faith traditions, but they were commissioned by Jim to build a current vision of artworks that take on the complex themes and histories that form the bible.
Two incredible essays – as well as writings by the artists themselves – help contextualize the works and elucidate the ways these artists add their current voices to ancient conversations.
Also, as part of the upcoming initial dual-site exhibition in Columbia, MO (more info on that when it’s ready), I am offering prints of 5 of my works in the Kasper Collection. I hope you’ll click below and check them out – it’s always good to support artists instead of billionaires, especially in times such as the ones in which we’re living.
My contributions to the Collection are varied. I was glad that Jim allowed me to pursue more straightforward “traditional” painting, but also to work in relief carving and enigmatic, abstract imagery. With the five images above, I was inspired by everything from Correggio’s Jupiter and Io to the physical stylization in the mythology-based paintings of Kyle Staver. I wanted the works to embrace their illustrative side, with strong visual dynamics, weird bodies to match weird activities, and intense colors.
Matt Ballou, Portrait of my Father, Marvin G. Smith. Oil on panel, 20×16 inches. 2014.
Marvin Glenn Smith died on Tuesday, August 12, 2025. He was 83 years old. Marv was born on May 24, 1942 in Camden, NY. He loved Studebaker cars, bawdy blues music, and the aircraft of World War 1. In many ways these things framed the contours of his life.
Known for his love of fast cars and racing, Marvin survived a horrible accident at the age of 19, an event that left him with extensive, permanent injuries. He spent the rest of his life going to auto shows, attending and watching races around the country, and collecting manuals and other materials related to cars and the racing world.
Mom and Dad, mid 1970s.
Marv went on to a long career at Camden Wire, working in the quality assurance area, where he was able to use his sharp skills in analysis and mathematics. He took an early retirement in 1995, eventually settling north of Camden in Empeyville, NY.
It was at this time that his decades long passion for studying World War 1 became a main focus for him. He filled his time with reading and research, amassing a collection of WW1 books, objects, documents, firearms, and art. He traveled extensively to explore military history at museums and trade shows, but perhaps most cherished was his trip to Germany in 1997, where he visited many battle sites first hand.
He had a unique personality – a calm, pleasant demeanor with a touch of nihilism sprinkled in. He would constantly drop catch phrases into conversations: “Nothin’ serious” and “Another day in paradise” came up often. As a “live and let live” Libertarian, Marv often found himself at odds with the dominant, invasive politics of his adult life. Though a quiet, reserved man, he always enjoyed conversation and could hold forth about the blues or history any time. He loved discussing items in his WW1 collection and possessed an exhaustive knowledge of the people and places of that time.
My last chat with my dad, 2025. Photo by my sister.
He is survived by his sisters Linda (Leon) and Martha, his children Walter, Matthew (Alison), and Stacey, and many grand kids. He was preceded in death by his parents and beloved daughter Denya. At Marvin’s request, there will be no funeral service.
My sister Stacey was able to retrieve a piece of dad’s WW1 trench art, a 50mm artillery shell decorated in a floral motif with an eagle. This will serve as dad’s urn when he is buried in his family plot. It’s wild – and sort of perfectly poetic – that something made by a young man in the tumultuous trenches of a world at war 110 years ago, will now go into the ground in upstate NY with my father. In a way, he got to take one part of the collection he built over a lifetime with him.
Today I went into the printmaking room at The University of Missouri and placed a lithophane in the widows there.
The idea for this began a few years ago while playing with my drawing robot. I wanted to try different line modes in various images, and happened to throw in a picture of Eric. One of the resulting works was this small ballpoint pen piece:
Head of Sweet. Ink on paper, 5×3 inches. 2022.
The piece I’ve hung today is intentionally related to Sweet’s MFA thesis works, which featured embossed relief and required specific lighting to be seen. Click here to see examples of these works (and a cool picture of Eric in the very printmaking room where my lithophane is now hanging). The portrait of Eric I’ve made is designed to be somewhat inscrutable unless strongly lit from behind. In the documentary images I’ve posted below, you can see the image is barely visible. I have included some shots with a flash on so you can see the relief dimension of the piece.
Ten Years of Seizing the Sixth. PLA, printed on a FlashForge Adventurer 5M. It’s 7×5.25x.25 in size. 2025.
It’s important to maintain the reality of those who have passed on. This is as much about keeping ourselves real as much as it is celebrating their lives. In reminding ourselves of others’ lives, in being creative in that remembering, we find and define ourselves. Keeping Eric in the world through making and practicing attention is a way of honoring him and the values he held.
Ten Years of Seizing the Sixth. PLA, 7×5.25x.25 in size. 2025. This is what it looks like with strong illumination behind the lithophane.
Nine years ago today I experienced cardiac arrest, and I started a journey to becoming a new person. One of the ongoing fun bits related to my heart attack and eventual recovery, was that my friend – famed bookstore co-owner, and local arts organization legend – Kelsey finally accepted the reality of narwhals!
You see, it – the existence of narwhals that is – had been a minor contention between us for quite a while (see above image). I’d mention the unicorn of the sea and she’d push back. But when I woke up from my ordeal and began sorting through the notes, good vibes, and other well-wishes I found a Post-It note from Kelsey. On it she drew the beast and wrote above it, POR VIDA – “for life!” She told me that since I’d pulled through, she could accept the truth of narwhal-kind!
I’ve kept Kelsey’s Post-It note up all these years, right there in my kitchen where I can see it daily. But this year I felt it was appropriate to take it to the next level. I’ve commissioned a local tattoo artist to bring Kelsey’s drawing to life on my very flesh!
Once it is healed up I’ll add a nice shot of it to this post. I’m grateful to people like Kelsey, who have given me so much joy and hope in humanity over the years. She is a true community spirit, someone who understands kindness and laughter. And I’m proud to carry her drawing with me – on me! – from now on, a reminder to seize the day, be happily present, and to embrace the wondrous absurdities all around us.
See this fantastic blog from 11 years ago linked below. A nice tribute to Ray Johnson, who died on this day in 1995. He was a strange, unique man. At the intersection of queerness, neurodivergence, and mental illness, Johnson lived his whole adult life as an artwork. The amazing documentary How To Draw A Bunny (click the title to watch it), is a celebration of this one-of-a-kind life. Every semester I show this to my 2000 level drawing students as a way to demonstrate how mature artists create a vernacular of form and idea in their works, a way of creating and speaking that forms the architecture and language of their art. Ray’s life (and even his way of dying, in a sense) was inspirational.
Growing up I found intense comfort in the music and lyrics of the iconic Canadian band Rush. Rush hold a particular place in the history of rock music, as they were both iconoclastic and unapologetically moral and humanist in orientation. Their songs were not the realm of edge lords or shock rockers. They didn’t make songs about sex, drugs, violence, or stupidity. Much to the contrary. They thought deeply, expressed those thoughts intensely, and were able to stand out in completely unique ways because of the quality of their unified talents.
Rush pioneered rock music as an intellectual pursuit. They were compelling because they stood on principles, and communicated deep commitment to human concerns without couching it in schmaltz. You can sense honesty in their dedication to their musical craft and in the meaning embedded in the lyrics Neil Peart wrote.
John Dewey, a central philosopher of the pragmatist movement, established much of the foundation surrounding art as a moral structure in society. Don’t misunderstand me; I don’t mean propaganda or dogma being used within art to influence or instruct. I mean deeply human values translated into actionable expressions of yearning and awareness.
“Anthem of the heart and anthem of the mind A funeral dirge for eyes gone blind We marvel after those who sought Wonders in the world”
–Anthem
In Rush we see full expressions of a world where reason, empathy, and the better angels of our nature have had free reign. We find artifacts proving the best human capacities for love, attention, and hope.
When I think back on what inspired me and what stuck with me for all of these years, I think it is the sense of hope and expectation that they created. Actually, maybe hope is the wrong word… I think yearning might be a better way to describe it. Hope, in a sense, lacks agency. It sees life as something that happens to a person rather than what a person chooses, navigates, or constructs for themselves and alongside others.
“They travel on the road to redemption A highway out of yesterday, that tomorrow will bring Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring We’re only at home when we’re on the wing On the wing
We are young Wandering the face of the Earth Wondering what our dreams might be worth Learning that we’re only immortal For a limited time”
–Dreamline
Yearning, on the other hand, is motivational and self-actualization in process. It’s visualization. It’s being the change you want to see in the world. The ability to reflect, imagine the world you want to inhabit, and take real steps to make it real in some way… that’s yearning. It’s the combination of instinct and clear-sighted determination.
In some very real ways, Rush was the soundtrack to my own determination to at least TRY to expand my world. To get educated. To travel. To live as an artist. To read, think, and feel deeply. Songs like Middletown Dreams and Subdivisions called me to broaden my horizons. The lyrics of Dreamline and Ghost of a Chance made me dream, and then helped me transform those dreams into practical plans.
“Dreams flow across the heartland and feeding on the fires Dreams transport desires Drive you when you’re down Dreams transport the ones who need to get out of town, out of town”
–Middletown Dreams
“Like a million little crossroads Through the back streets of youth Each time we turn a new corner A tiny moment of truth”
–Ghost of a Chance
One of the other realms that Rush inspired me to think about and explore more fully was science. As a young person I was exposed to young earth creationism and other forms of science denial. Songs like Natural Science and, later on, Earthshine, prove that transcendent awe and appreciation for the wonders of the universe are not the purview of religious belief. As I read about the science behind everything from evolution to astrophysics, I unlocked a sense of astonishment and pure joy that had not been available to me before. In reading folx with diverse perspectives, from Stephen J Gould and Annie Dillard to Douglas Adams and Ellen Dissanayake, I found that there was a way to be excited about the glories of space, time, and biology without appealing to supernatural explanations. There’s so much that we can see, hear, touch, measure, and practically explore without needing to imagine things outside of the universe to justify them all.
“Wheel within wheels in a spiral array A pattern so grand and complex Time after time we lose sight of the way Our causes can’t see their effects”
–Natural Science
In some way, the feeling that I’ve always had while listening to Rush is a kind of nostalgia for a past dream of a future where good truths prevail. Where the right thing is done, and everyone can see it. Where the light of knowledge is appreciated. Where attempting to understand “life, the universe, and everything” is given the highest of accolades, appreciated more than fleeting beauty or physical ability. Where honesty, good faith, and mutual aid are seen as true societal values. I think that future is possible, and I think we are actually closer to it than we’ve ever been as a species. In a time where this country is divided and anxious, it’s easy to think that future is not possible. But it objectively is. This is the best time to be alive for most human beings.
This Thanksgiving week, I’m thankful for the world, for life, for music, and for Rush. Here’s a link to a playlist of some of my favorite songs they’ve made:
The beginning of the third week of the month was best, with some striking observations made possible with a short exposure time. Each night the viewing has been a little more difficult, and the tail a little shorter, so it may be beyond easy spotting very soon. It’s worth it, though. Once in a lifetime event here, folx.
I’ve gone out each night just to put my eyes on this ancient thing. Perspective is a quality that exhorts and propels the human heart. Seeing our conflicts and passions in the light of cosmic time and distance offers us the chance for true reflection.
When I was in undergrad at SAIC, my class visited him while he was installing his 25-Year Survey (Oct 14, 1999 – Jan 9, 2000) exhibition. A classmate and I stood for him to help focus projections in one of his pieces while he talked to the class and led us through the various installations. Such a key memory for me, and an important exhibition for me to see as a young artist.
I love that he embraced sensitivity, even sentimentality, in his work. The art world – and the world in general – is so jaded and navel-gazing at their own foolishness that it’s nice to see someone who really thought about the biggest issues of humanity: our shared conditions, our hopes and dreams and fears, and the strangeness of our embodiment.
MF DOOM (keep caps on that name!) was a highly skilled and influential British rapper. Throughout the years, fans have been drawn to creating various artistic interpretations of his famous mask, behind which the artist almost always appeared/performed.
My good friend Jesse Slade, proprietor of KING THEODORE RECORDS, got me more interested in MF DOOM years ago. I’ve created representations of the mask in the past for illustrations/artworks using in Jesse’s record shop, but I wanted to make a move into a Lego version (or two) after I saw some folx creating them online.
Shout out to The Canvas Don and u/vonaudy for their versions of a building block/Lego MF DOOM mask. Both are awesome. I also like the “blockheadz” versions here and here. These examples served as inspirations, but mostly I just played around with what I’ve got in the old Lego vault.
I created the two versions below in standard light blue-gray, dark gray, and white, but then spray painted them with a chrome silver for proper effect. Take a look and enjoy. The smaller one is 4x5x2 inches and the larger is 5x6x2.5 inches.
Smaller MF DOOM Lego Mask. Click to see larger versions.
Larger MF DOOM Lego Mask. Click to see larger versions.
Eight years ago today one of the few most significant pivots of my life happened. My cardiac arrest is intimately tied to the death of my sister, to my experience of my home town, to my understanding of life and spirituality, and to my way of moving through every day life.
This year I’m commemorating the traumaversary with a new version of an old work. I first created Situation and Circumstance Overcome in 2003. It is definitely my most successful and most owned work, as I’ve created many copies – both paintings and prints – of the work as fundraisers for adoptions and other charitable occasions. For this version I chose to use my AxiDraw X&Y plotter. Using a new print of my old mezzotint plate of the piece (fig. 1) as a visual source, I created a large vectored image in Inkscape that had roughly 30 layers printed upwards of 5 times each (fig. 2).
Fig. 1: Situation and Circumstance Overcome. Mezzotint print on paper. 16×20 inches. 2023.
Ink the vectored image you can see many of the layers along with the direction of the hatch fills and choices I made for density of pigment load. Each color was created with Sharpies, Posca acrylic markers, and a few other ink-based markers. The layers shown in the Inkscape file don’t correspond fully to the final image (fig 3.) because I made adjustments/changes to individual layers as I moved through building the image. There is a call and response between the digital and physical realms here that I really appreciate. I’ve also included a few details of the piece so you can see the finer textures and lines.
Fig. 3: Situation and Circumstance Overcome (’24 Traumaversary Version). Ink and acrylic on Arches paper. 16×20 inches. 2024.
I like having a rich, sentimental image like this following me through life. I’m convinced we’re all sentimental (if we’re honest and not sociopathic). By this word I don’t mean any kind of unexamined, saccharine idealization of some past version of reality. Rather, I mean that we really did experience real things in our pasts, and those things carry with them real emotions, real artifacts of our real selves. In some sense, sentimentality can give us momentary access to who we used to be in the past. It is a simultaneous connection and rupture. We know we can’t return to that person or that experience. And we know that we can’t really feel anything the same way again. And yet… some part of that reality is there for us in our sense of sentimentality. It’s akin to a certain scent or song taking us back to a prior state of being. There’s nothing wrong with this. Moreover, I suspect it has some adaptive advantage for the species by stimulating social/familial/relational/tribal/spatial cohesion.
In any case, I think making the image of life in the form of tiny sapling breaking up between the bricks has been a worthy thing for me. It’s a little picture of triumph in the midst of hardship. I’m glad it resonates with so many people. I’m glad variations of this piece hang in homes all over the world. And I’m glad I’m still here to appreciate it and add to its legacy.
I’m glad I didn’t miss these last eight years. There have been a lot of situations to overcome, but the life I’ve seen makes it all worth it. Here’s to another year. Peace.
If you’d like to inquire about purchasing the traumaversary robot version of Situation and Circumstance Overcome, contact me over here.
eikonktizo 