What does the word ACID means to you in general and artistic terms? I had a very tight knit crew of friends growing up. Acid wasn’t in style like it is today. We were the only people I knew who were experimenting with it. We didn’t live in California. This was Delaware — a small, conservative state right near Philadelphia -. In the 90’s it was all Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Mariah Carey. We were weirdos. We mostly listened to garage rock, classic rock, or gansta rap. My favorite band was The Chocolate Watchband. All my friends came from broken homes. We were our own family. I was probably the most artsy— shy, imaginative, skinny, with long wavy hair— often sitting in the back seat of the Chrysler New Yorker, drawing aliens, monsters and trying to cram the colorful insides of my head onto a notebook page. We were super into the concept of drugs as mind expansion— a very Jim Morrison stereotype -. I have no doubt that tripping when I was 17 and 18 altered my perception, and probably gave me the guts to say fuck the status quo, to realize that modern life is a trap, a preordained systematic march to death. Laying on the warm grass, watching airplanes cutting through blue October skies, bleeding out into 1000 diminishing copies, like looking through kaleidoscope eyes. To me that was real. Now the question becomes, what’s next? What do you do with acid in a practical sense? A lot of people translate ‘acid’ or ‘trippy’ art as a melted or drippy creature. I don’t find acid to be particularly melty, or at least not drippy for the sake of drippy. To me, it is more machine, more insect, something like the future fusion of man and machine. I often hallucinate that rooms are breathing, wallpaper or tree bark is moving like a matrix of eyes. When I look inside my mind I see wheels or spirals of dancing insects— green mandibles, legs, feelers, eyes -. I don’t think I’ve ever fully captured anything close to the real feeling of acid. I usually end up just drawing cartoons poking fun at the drug experience, or myself. Some of you works remind me of Basquiat, especially when it comes to the use of color and composition, maybe also in the childlike expressionism, for example ‘Head of Bart’. Could you explain to us your process and method when creating a new piece? I love to draw little characters running around or populating bigger heads. I think the ‘Head of Bart’ drawing was really fun because I didn’t sketch it or plan it out— just drew it in one sitting. I really love Basquiat’s color usage. I sometimes wish that I could be as loose or expressionistic as him (laughs). I come from more of a Screen Printing background, and tend to think more in terms of ‘how will this translate into a print?’ or ‘how can I make this thing look super slick?’ It’s nice sometimes to just make a huge mess. Everything in the life of an adult is supposed to be order, measured success, life goals, buying things, house and car, vacation, work. The mind of a child isn’t so concerned with these practical things. To him or her, it’s all sensory, feelings, desires, vibes. Of course, all that won’t pay the bills— unless you’re Basquiat -. He never seemed very happy though. His life was rather tragic. If I have to be here on Earth, I really want to be happy while I am here. It is good to keep that sense of childhood fantasy— just not to get lost in it -. I draw every day. Sometimes the stuff I draw is garbage. Sometimes I try to be funny, or self-deprecating. Sometimes I feel really angry and want to make something more meaningful. Sometimes I feel very full of love and want to be very chill and California. My process often begins with a word, or maybe a phrase. Sometimes I will play with an idea for months, but usually the best stuff just slides out, like mental poop. Several of your prints posses the ability to convey some kind of pain, physical and mental, is this due to a purge you experience while creating them or a driven sense of fear? If not, from where does this inspiration arise? I moved to New York City when I was twenty and I barely knew anyone. I experienced a lot of pain, loneliness, and death— enough trials and emotional damage probably to last a long time -. I try to not get so caught up in the past. It can be a
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real mind fuck. Maybe drawing weird / scary / dark stuff helps to get beyond these bad things. It’s like blues music. What is the importance of the grotesque in you work and why do you recur to it? Sometimes people say my work is dark, or scary. To me, it seems normal. I think my work is just an honest expression of where my head is at. Sometimes I do bigger prints with more complicated meanings. But sometimes I just want to draw comics, or bananas riding a motorcycle, or an alien cowboy. What’s the story behind the name Killer Acid? I think it has two meanings. One— “this is some good shit, some good acid” -. The other— this is actually some toxic chemical that will burn your face off -. I grew up near the chemical dynasty of the DuPont Company. We were always freaked out about getting cancer by drinking the water. The term Killer Acid originally comes from my old band, Mixel Pixel. There is a song called ‘At The Arcade’ where it says ‘“We just scored some killer acid”. You are a musician too, what are the differences between making a song and a piece of art? For making art I don’t need an amp and a band and a booking agent and a van and drums and a soundman and a record label. I just need myself and a few close friends, who I can bounce ideas back and forth. It’s a way more lonely endeavor (laughs). I miss recording music sometimes. I used to love waking up every day and thinking about songs. I think my spirit for making music was killed by the music industry. But I put out about 8 albums. That is enough. You have said that some of your inspiration comes from dreams and nightmares. Do you have any recurrent nightmare or one you vividly remember? One of the most vivid dreams I had was right after 9/11. I lived in Manhattan at the time, about a mile uptown from ground zero. I watched the towers fall while walking to work. That experience gave me a ton of doomsday scenario nightmares— guess maybe that’s the point of terror— to invade not only our waking thoughts, but also our dreaming minds. Anyway, in the dream I was running down the island of Manhattan. Larger and larger objects were falling from the sky, starting with books, mailboxes, animals, couches, cars, buses, airplanes, rockets. As I was running, I noticed that the scenery was moving back in time. Skyscrapers gave way to tall buildings, brownstones, tenement houses, then wooden shacks, crude huts, and finally tents. At the end of the dream, I was standing on the beach at the very bottom of the island. There were no people, or houses, only trees and sand. I could hear the sounds of crickets and distant birds. The sun was setting. My feet were in the water, looking out at the river. I feel in the dream that I have outrun the time. That I am safe. Many of your pieces can be considered as parodies to pop-culture, what attributes do you think make a parody amazing or brilliant? I think there are very original ways to twist pop culture. I love how Ermsy does it— like a perfect blend of sentimental and street -. His drawing seems effortless, yet some of his characters are really complex. I also really love Ray Johnson, The Hairy Who, Paper Rad — all masters of pop parody -. Where people go wrong is when they just draw a boring ass Bart Simpson, even if they twist it a little. I think you need to really feel the thing you are using, and incorporate it whole heartedly into your work— making it part of a larger world -. What goals are left for you to accomplish as a visual artist? I would really like to travel more for work. Maybe I could paint more murals around the world. I want to try and increase the scale this year— it’s always liberating to go from a notebook to a twenty-foot wall, or to go from a computer screen to a movie screen -. I want to fully realize the world of Killer Acid, and jump into the acid with no life jacket.