Raymond Pettibon with the sparest of lines and simplest of words made me unashamed to love odd beauty, to pass through struggle and embrace my own weird affections and subtle intuitions without self-consciousness. His work haunts me.
Look beneath the floorboards, one trauma nestles into the next. Limbs enfold and shiver in the darkness. Across bruised skin, roadmaps of scars lead nowhere good, cigarette burns and whiplashes, a crisscross of razoring, spider-webbing from broken glass.