Great moments in art history: Black Metal paintings

Here we see curators hanging one of these priceless pieces of art at the Louvre.

As much as my writings for this blog have been hailed by critics as being both groundbreaking AND insightful, I know that all the praise could easily dissipate as a result of one bad post. My internet fame could collapse like a house of cards that gets knocked over by the seismic activity created by Shane Embury walking nearby. Why bring this up? Because I'm sometimes afraid of posting something that the entire M.I. readership has already seen elsewhere. This, by the way, is very possible, since I'm rather disconnected from most metal activities online. This is a particular concern of mine when it comes to anything relating to black metal. Look, I know and understand that black metal and making fun of it is old news. You see, whereas in other households the phrase "like taking candy from a baby" is often used, in my house we say "like making fun of black metal."

Having said this, I simply felt I had to share this amazing artwork with all of you, even if some have already seen it. Under each painting I will give my critique.



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A challenging piece for the viewer to take in, to say the least. The terracotta tones (perhaps an homage to postmodernist architect Michael Graves?) ground the figures, while their scale clue us into the artists take on the subject matter. Not since Andy Warhol's erotic films have homosexual characters been depicted in such a manner.

Not content to merely use traditional symmetry as a way of creating balance, the artist has opted for the asymmetry common in modern art, as well as modern architecture. The quality of the facial features shows us that we are looking at true outsider art, perhaps the work of a retarded person, a monkey, or a homeless man...or Danny Spitz and his googly eye. Reminiscent of Mies Van Der Rohe's early floorplans, the characters slide past each other, much like walls did in his Barcelona Pavillion. Somewhere between abstraction and respresentational painting, this piece not only challenges, but also shatters pre-existing notions about art and artistic depiction. Had this guy been around when Demolition Hammer was putting out their first album, he totally would have gotten the comission.


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Much like Franz Kline's seemingly brute black and white canvasses, this piece speaks not only to our humanity, but also to our brutality. The duality of the black and white brushstrokes seem to hint at the hidden characteristics of the music it speaks of, while connecting with the viewer at a visceral level. The laughable proportions, lack of chin and asymmetric visage may seem erroneous, but are in reality a statement about man's inhumanity to man....or perhaps the artist needs glasses. One is also left to wonder "why are his nostrils so damn small?" The artists is taking a gutsy approach (to say the least) in specializing in portraiture, when he clearly has severe problems sizing up even the simplest of human features, but is that not the same for most black metal bands? They can't play their instruments, and yet they go on playing. Go figure.

This piece also has a slight connection to Demolition Hammer. How you ask? Does the angle of the face look familiar? Just look at the image below, which clearly served as inspiration.







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Exaggerated proportions and interesting brush technique speak to varying visual references, primarily the later work of Andrew Wyeth, as well as more banal visuals...such as the runny quality of a drunken hobo's diarrhea. The wispy quality of the brushstrokes is clearly influenced by Wyeth's work, and his depiction of prairie grass in his haunting masterpiece "Christina's World." Perhaps serving as a statment about the childlike nature of black metal's musical complexity, this portrait features the nose of a baby, thus layering meaning within the painting.






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Drawing upon visual cues from different areas of design and artistic expression, this piece is perhaps the artist's strongest statement. Not content merely making visual references to the work of assorted modern masters, the artist goes one step beyond and references the unlikely world of automotive design. Clearly influenced by the work of designer Chris Bangle (the rear of the BMW 5 series in particular) the subject's features seem to converge onto a single point...as though he has just eaten a very sour lemon. The extremely short length of the subject's chain is also worth mentioning, as it looks more like a choker from the Delia's catalog circa 1996.

Although much of Chris Bangle's work for BMW has been criticized, his impact on automotive design is undeniable...much like Possessed's album Seven Churches.

Another possible use of allegory by the artist is the repetition of the upside down cross. What is he trying to tell us? Perhaps it's a simple reference to the recurring pitchfork shape that is clearly seen in Grant Wood's "American Gothic."

Note the pitchfork shape, which is repeated both in the overall's pocket, as well as upside down in the top window of the house.

My Guitar Pick Collection

Out of all the relics I still own from my golden years in the world of metal (1990-1995), I think my humble collection of guitar picks is both my favorite and most cringe-worthy. Here are the stories behind these picks.




I remember the Deicide show where I scored this priceless Glen Benton pick, they were touring for Legion. At the time, I loved Deicide but I was already aware of how silly they were, and I remember laughing as Glen growled "I smell a christian in the audience" between songs. This was the tour during which they started selling the tshirts that said "the killing of all that is holy" on the back. Nearly every redneck in the audience was rocking that shirt, and Glen was wearing that ridiculous mask during the first three songs or so. Remember that mask? It looked like something your mom would buy from the African decor section of Pier 1, or World Market to hang on the wall. In retrospect, the whole thing seems so incredibly ridiculous. To be fair, my going down on the beer soaked floor to find the pick Glen had thrown mid-song is just as ridiculous.

Here we see Glen's reaction upon hearing playback of what the bass drums sounded like in every Deicide album that was recorded at Morrisound.

Another Glen Benton story. My brother and I wrote a letter to Metal Maniacs back then and it was published. Because of that letter, we got lots of mail from people all over the country, including a few from people in prison. I guess those metal dudes in the slammer would, from time to time, get tired of raping each other and would write people whose addresses were printed in magazines. One guy wrote us from a prison in a nearby state, and sent us a photocopy of a drawing he had done of Glen Benton. I would give my left hand to have that drawing today. Anyway, along with that drawing he sent us two pictures, one of him and his creepy redneck/metal buddies in jail, and the second one was of him meeting Glen at the very show where I caught this pick. In the background of that picture, it was possible to see yours truly standing around staring at Glen Benton. Even though I remember thinking Glen was a douche at the time, the picture tells another story. I seem to be admiring the guy....so I guess my memory must be a bit cloudy.





This pick is from the first reunion tour the Misfits did in 1996. I remember hearing before the show that their new singer was called Michael Graves. I was psyched to see the leading Postmodernist architect and product designer singing for such an influential punk band. Sadly, it was not that Michael Graves. It was Michale Graves (note the spelling), and he turned out to be a dope, and a bit of a creep.

The guy I was hoping to see as the new singer of the Misfits

Anyway, before the show we saw a large crowd gathering in the club's parking lot. It looked like a fight was about to go down, but as we got closer we saw that it was something far more sinister. Members of the Misfits had a bench press on tour, and they were lifting as the small audience cheered them on and counted their reps. This is without a doubt the silliest moment in musical history.







This one barely has a story. I saw Gorefest play with Fear Factory, and I found this pick on the floor shortly after their set on the side of the floor in front of the bass player who was going through picks like Paul Stanley. I was bummed that the pick was a generic Duncan, and that I couldn't get the guy from Gorefest that threw it out to sign it. So I put the awful "GF" you see here in Sharpie. Aside form being a boring story, it's also a bit embarfassing.









My brother gave me this sweet Helloween guitar pick as a gift. It glows in the dark! That's no joke. The other side has the name "Markus" in a script typeface. Markus is Helloween's bass player. If you didn't know that, go punch yourself in the face six times. My brother got the pick, if I remember correctly, from a guy that worked at a guitar pick factory. What an awesome job...just sitting there inhaling plastic fumes all day, screening the Helloween pumpkin on guitar picks. Some guys have all the luck.





Fear Factory guitar pick that was given to me and signed by Dino Cazares. He helped my brother and I get in for free to this show by making us carry his guitars and pretending we were his roadies. Fear Factory had little pull in the world of metal back then, so he couldn't add us to the guest list. I remember him being really short. I also remember standing behind the drumset during Fear Factory's set and watching Raymond Herrera play with huge steel-toe construction boots. The man was a machine that night. A Mexican, boot-wearing, drumming machine.







I honestly don't remember seeing Panic play, though they may have played with Epidemic at some point. Those two bands were guilty pleasures of mine, since they were still playing somewhat melodic thrash during the height of the death metal years. They dressed like absolute dopes though, somewhere between Keanu Reeves in Bill and Ted's Excellent adventure, and those awkward metal kids in your school that tried to skate because they saw a picture of Scott Ian with a Variflex board somewhere.







This pick is perhaps the one that brings me the most shame. Signed by Obituary's bass player Frank Watkins, this may look like a simple pick to you...but it's not. It's a symbol of my stupidity. Obituary did a signing in a small, out of the way record store before their show that day. My brother and I went, and waited in line with a handful of people in order to get stuff signed. We had a couple of posters and pictures taken out of our more recent Metal Maniacs, and they were kind enough to sign everything. Since there were so few people there, we made some conversation with the guys, and they joked about having to sign old pictures of the band, back from when James Murphy was still in the band. I remember the drew horns on Murphy's head, and (I believe) wrote the word "fag" on his forehead. I have to find that poster to confirm this. In any case, my brother and I left and went towards the neighborhood where the show was. With hours to kill, we walked around until we saw the members of Obituary having lunch in a quiet restaurant. I waved to them, ans signaled that I wanted to come into the restaurant. The rest of the story is blury to me, but I swear that it's true. I remember sitting there, on the bench of a booth next to theirs basically watching them eat. I have no idea why I did this...it's so incredibly embarrassing to even think about. As much as I liked Obituary, they were certainly not a band I was absolutely nuts for in a Menudo sort of way, but this anecdote tells another story. I can't remember how long I was there, or if they talked to me at all during that time. I think I asked them some questions, and probably made awful attempts at conversation. I'm surprised they put up with me at all. From there, I honestly believe that I followed them to the venue and got to go backstage with them. I barely remember this, but I have proof...and that proof is the pick. I remember the guys being nice enough to sign picks for me (probably trying to get me to leave), and Donald Tardy gave me two signed sticks (which I still have), and I watched Obituary play from the side of the stage. Donald was hitting fantastic rimshots every time, and his playing was hypnotic. I'm amazed that I only remember small details of that day, but perhaps its for the best. Following Obituary around like they were the Spice Girls is something I'll never forget. But clearly, I actually have.










Another post-show find from the floor of a venue, this one had real meaning to me back in the day. I was a huge D.R.I. fan as a kid, and getting to see them live nearly blew my mind. They were opening for Testament during that tour, but where I lived they were booked as headliners. Their opening band was called The Legacy, which is a Testament song, and album and was their original name. It didn't take a genius to figure out Testament would be opening, but the hush-hush quality of that show still makes me scratch me head. I had heard of Metallica booking themselves unanounced in small clubs as The Four Horsemen. Megadeth, in an attempt to do everything Metallica has ever done, had often booked themselves as Vic And The Rattleheads. I could undersand the reason why a band that would normally play arenas or stadiums at one point having to use an alias (however unimaginative or ill conceived) in order to play a club. Testament, however, was playing the very venue they had played only months earlier, and would play again the subsequent year.

Stupid facial piercings? Check. Contrived facial hair? Check. Cornrows? Check. Man-tits? Check. The angle and position of his his horn-throwing hand reminds me of that insanely racist black impression Robin Williams does. You know, the one when he holds out his hand at that very angle and says "yo yo yo", and then crosses his arms ala RUN DMC circa 1984. Ugh.

When they came out on stage, Chuck Billy came out and suddenly said "Ha ha! We are........TESTAMENT!". You could hear chirps in the silence of the crowd. Anyway, Testament played a good set of only old songs, but D.R.I. blew them away. By this point, Definition had just come out, and they were clearly limping along (musically speaking) but the show as fantastic.