Richard Blankman is an artist & musician. He is our new friend! Come see why! Now, here’s your chance to get to know him:
What medium of art do you work with and why?
I take things, cut them up into tiny pieces, and arrange them to look like other things. In part, it’s because I love how it gives the foreground image an immediate energy and depth. However, it’s also because I am profoundly obsessive, and the idea of spending hours cutting slivers of paper into perfect tiny shapes sounds so much more fun than parties and stuff.
How did you first discover your artistic abilities?
I was watching one of those dumb home makeover shows on television. Someone paid thousands of dollars for a huge mostly-blank canvas with some swatches of color that more or less matched the rest of the décor. I thought, “Hell, I can do that.” So I did.
When were you last on a boat?
I reject the typical notion that the universe is a vast collection of space and gas. I believe instead that the universe is a huge motherfucking boat. I am on a boat now. You are on a boat now. We are all on a boat.
How old were you when you drew your first giant squid?
Seven. Then it came to life and ate my brother. I’ve never talked about it since.
What was your most recent adventure?
Mere fortnights ago, I learned of the most valiant knight among all the knights across many lands, Sir David. While his reputation spanned the globe, his dwelling was in a land far, far away from me. “Fear not!” I proclaimed. “I shall embark on a journey to be with him.” I walked for miles and miles until I could no longer stand. “Alas, I cannot stop. I have come to meet my knight,” I thought. So I found a stretch of road, laid down all my belongings, and waited until someone could drive me farther.
A corpulent, friendly man named Grendel arrived in a rusty Buick and offered to help. We drove for hours and hours until he confessed he could go no farther. “Alas, I cannot stop. I have come to meet my knight,” I thought. So I found a stretch of beach, laid down all of my belongings, and waited until someone could steer me farther.
A short, frail man named Shiefson arrived in a pontoon and offered to help. We sailed for days and days until he confessed he needed to travel inland for food. “Alas, I cannot stop. I have come to meet my knight,” I thought. So we feasted together and parted ways. I resumed hiking for many sunsets until I, at long last, laid eyes on Sir David, the bravest, noblest knight anyone had ever known.
“Sir David!” I cried. His eyes lit, and his mouth curled, repressing tears and smiling wider than all the world’s seas. “Richard,” he whispered, “I have waited many long nights to see you.” His lips started trembling, and his countenance turned sober. “Yet, I am a knight, and you, a peasant. It pains me, but while I will grant you one kiss, ‘tis here your journey ends.”
“Perhaps it only began?” I begged. With a forlorn sigh, he shook his head. I kissed him and began my journey back home.
