Charles Bukowski once said - and I'm paraphrasing here from memory - "it's an old gimmick, to write like you've really got a handle on life, pretending you've got some inside line on reality. But I do it too". And I do it more than most, not just in writing but in painting, not to mention ordinary conversation. I dispense nuggets of alleged wisdom as rapidly and effortlessly as Pez dispensers emit Pez from the necks of cartoon characters. And yet, who am I to think I know anything about anything? I'm just a lout from way down in the hills of Kentucky, deep in the heart of darkest America. True, I was gifted as a child with a photographic memory and precocious learning skills, but I spent all those brain cells on comic books. Why would anyone listen to advice from a sap like me, a luddite who doesn't care about politics or fashion or sports, a retard who still thinks the original Star Trek TV show was the peak of 20th century culture? What, after all, would a childish hick such as myself know about life? I've watched a lot of cartoons. Played a lot of pool and poker. Painted a lot of pictures of bugs and ducks and monsters, many of which you will see in this exhibit. Drank a lot of beer and whiskey, and even more soda pop. Slept in ditches by the interstate as well as in the finest hotels. Tasted all manner of wondrous foods, from lobster sashimi in Japan to sfogliatella in New York City, to hobo squambo in the wilderness of Rockcastle County. But what kind of loser would consider these any sort of accomplishments to brag about? No, don't listen to me when I tell you about some great old rare 78 I've just obtained. Glare with contempt when I tell you about some fun practical joke I just played on someone. Roll your eyes when my half-assed bands perform in clubs, bars, and living rooms. Get impatient with me when my idea of a fun date is to sit by the railroad tracks holding hands. Stare at me with a blank dull lifeless expression when I tell you excitedly about the turtle I've just rescued from the middle of a highway. My primitive paintings, and the primitive messages behind them, are just further expressions of this same bad attitude and this same lame worldview. I encourage you to come and see the paintings and let them speak their messages to you, but of course, those messages - as well as the admonition - would just be just more worthless advice. - - Jeffrey Scott Holland, December 2003