Anthony Hurd – Featured Artist
fangs
i’m lost
on this mountain
in the turquoise brush
of skull and dead paint
i haven’t seen another
life form in several days
or maybe weeks
and i’m pretty sure
something is following
me
i can feel the eyes in the mountain
trailing each step
i am reminded of my childhood
finding a discarded pornography magazine
in the alley behind my
friend’s house
the fabric was plaid
and the people were weird
a merciless dissolving at the convergence
of some distorting matured sexuality
and what that
feels like
to the extent of what
boyhood or manhood
could detract from itself
snakeskin is nothing
more than dust
i’m not entirely sure
how i ended up here
but the episodes of my
life leading to this moment
are now somehow clear
yet
as these jarring
thoughts pull
me in omnidirections
a wolf is spotted in
the distance
it approaches and
i remain still
as it comes near
it matches eyes with me and
shows its fangs
i think of running but
am too terrified to move
its eyes begin to enrage
and it lunges at me
gnawing and ripping
its teeth into my
neck
the third eye opens
life knows when and how to breathe
on its own volition
blood spills along the
side of the mountain
the wolf trails off
with no memory of
it ever being a wolf
and i lay there waiting
to die
two days pass and i awake
i see the rock
i feel the stream
i am the wolf
as it knows not why
what it does
i am the eye in the head
that watches all and
thinks it knows
what it sees
everything reacts
exactly how
it was programmed
how it knows life to be
how it was
created
it is there
we are all consumed
by LORIN DREXLER
Anthony Hurd
Anthony describes his work as a selfish endeavor of exploring his own demons and understanding life’s ever-changing landscapes. It reflects life’s extreme ups and downs, losses and gains, and the mundane in between—an appreciation of moments and the exploration of memory. From an early age, Anthony had a series of stranger experiences, he prefers not to label them, but it’s shaped his perception of the world, and, ultimately, they put a face to his vision. It’s led him through an array of lovely messes that unfold in ways he’d have never expected.
He grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, where he desperately wanted to escape. Being the weird closeted gay kid, he buried himself in skateboard and music culture. That was his biggest influence stylistically, and the range is sometimes dramatic. It’s given him room to breathe and explore, to escape his not-too-pleasant home life, and pursue artistic endeavors from many angles. He often was involved in making zines, his own clothing line, selling quick drawings of album covers and whatnot to pay the bills. He played bass in a few hardcore straightedge bands, did music reviews, and worked on local skateboard graphics. As an adult, he moved to LA in his early 20s and fell into a career in advertising for what would turn out to be 20, often grueling years. In those years, he worked in the entertainment industry and the ad agency world for many years and went on to do freelance creative direction and illustration for the latter ten years. In that process, he started painting again at around 30 years old and slowly started to develop a sense of self, and a way to express his experiences more deeply. The loss of his little sister, the end of an 18-year relationship, and a series of financial setbacks eventually put life into perspective. He decided it was time to dedicate his attention to his art without distractions. From KCMO to Los Angeles, Palm Springs, Sedona-Arizona, Austin-Texas, and now Albuquerque-New Mexico, he feels he’s found a place to set some roots. He is now working full-time in a local art studio and pushing forward to his heart’s content.
What is Gen Society?
Gen Society is an art space blog for visual art and creative writing collaborations, and other randomizations. Hosted by writer and musician Lorin Drexler, this online venue is an expressive experience for those interested in the world of the arts. It is a literary journey through the hearts and minds of contemporary artists in practice and a reflection of those that have long passed.
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