I've met some pretty interesting people in some pretty dull places. Artists and musicians, for instance, trapped in day jobs like myself and wandering a gray maze of fluorescent lit cubicles, committing crimes against the sacred presence of the moment by wishing (hoping, praying) for 5:00.

Or, as is the case in the office where I have been employed for the last 18 months or so (which shall remain nameless in this space), 6:00. Everybody in this office has a story to tell, a fire burning in the heart or mind, sometimes both. The fire closest in nature to my own, however, is probably that of Bill Dunlap, one of the artist/musicians mentioned above.

"Sex, death, and booze," admits San Francisco painter Bill Dunlap. "That's basically what I'm about." As easy as it is for Dunlap to deconstruct his iconic depictions of virtue and vice, there's a deeper resonance within the cartoonish nature of his work that arises from the unsettling but inevitable acceptance of life's temptations. There's also a not-so-subtle sense of humor and irony evident from both the colorful, rubbery style of his subjects and the seemingly incongruent subtitles that often accompany them. These childlike expressions actually reveal damage and danger, but it's the kind of danger that's welcome, necessary, human; the kind that's overcome by a good hazy binge, until tomorrow's first disappointment.

- from This is the Path You Chose:The Dark Cartoonery of Bill Dunlap by Jonathan Zwickel @ SFSTATION -

Bill hopes to leave the clock watching behind soon and devote his life to his art (don't we all? Which reminds me, I need to check my lotto tickets!).

We have talked about collaborating. In fact, he has read a certain number of my short fictions with an eye toward illustration. Artistic collaboration is a concept that has intrigued me for some time now. Bill's work, such as I have seen, appeals to the dark streak that runs right through the middle of me. I think his fraught cartoon renderings (or maybe something more abstract? Or?) might just suit some of the strange scenes I have transcribed from the far, dim fields of my mind.

I wonder. Does an artist have a responsibility for the dark visions and/or dangerous ideas he/she brings into the world? Another concept that has intrigued me for some time.

And another post.