Thomas St Thomas

Thomas St ThomasThomas St ThomasThomas St Thomas
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Thomas St Thomas

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Thomas St Thomas

Thomas St ThomasThomas St ThomasThomas St Thomas

Life and Art

Current Work

About The Artist

Thomas St Thomas includes the process of life within every aspect of his work. Whether painting, landscaping, designing homes, furniture or fixtures, writing, travelling, surfing, motorcycling or creating cannabis infused beverages; the collective conscious is his playground. 

Growing up in Southern California in the 1970's, he was a professional skateboarder and surfer in his youth, where a strong allegiance of subculture was born. One of ten children in his home, he was given his first painting studio at 16 by Arthur Ruddy, (a lighting engineer and  architect for The 1940 New York World's Fair).

Throughout his life Thomas has nurtured a love of surrounding and nature that reveals itself in the beach-culture landscapes prevelant in his work; ocean horizons, sunsets, birds and heart trees compliment the easily curated self portraits amidst dreamlike tapestries of colored works on paper and canvases. One can also immediately interpret his affection for Pop Art and synicism in the candy colored glass sculptures that re-emphasize the playfulness, if not impish workings of a clever mind. These latest works are a reminiscence of the joys of "California dreaming" at a time when both surfing and skateboarding were considered a reckless, illegal nuisance; they celebrate society's reclamation of an entire generation's local culture that has now become a global, Olympic sport. 

Video

In the studio

Written Word

Why I hate Phoenix

Why I hate Phoenix

Why I hate Phoenix

The heat 

Repeat 

The boring ass bars 

with out a living soul, whom trolls 

the lonely ass halls removing the grubby, sticky ass do not disturb signs. 

In Phoenix the only thing rising is the heat; drunkass god fuck Mercury in May. Populated proper, formal attire Botoxed boulevards scuttling. 

Air conditioned cadavers .The parking lot known as 

The heat 

Repeat 

The boring ass bars 

with out a living soul, whom trolls 

the lonely ass halls removing the grubby, sticky ass do not disturb signs. 

In Phoenix the only thing rising is the heat; drunkass god fuck Mercury in May. Populated proper, formal attire Botoxed boulevards scuttling. 

Air conditioned cadavers .The parking lot known as Phoenix. 

The pit stop, rest stop between there and no where. 

The arid nest of snowbirds whom know of flight not. 

Coiffed and encovened, salon bound blondes encrypted within Twitter, twat’n on about the beloved podiums of mediocrity. 

Somewhere on the mesa out of town unhindered by the crimson canyons ...somewhere out there obscured by a mirage. Lies a crater repudiated to vault one to heaven. Those of us in this valley, the dander of the Phoenix will hesitate to rise to that occasion. We just want to get to fucking L.A. Thomas St Thomas

Drinking Alone

Why I hate Phoenix

Why I hate Phoenix

  

Drinking alone

In a double tree

In the desert

In mid-May 

At happy hour 

With twenty seven tv screens

Wall mounted 

All with the sound down

Each one a different channel 

Displayed as a prototype 

For DJ Trumps new wall

The bartender huddled under the bar

Playing candy crush

Slowly yet frequently 

Patrons position themselves 


  

Drinking alone

In a double tree

In the desert

In mid-May 

At happy hour 

With twenty seven tv screens

Wall mounted 

All with the sound down

Each one a different channel 

Displayed as a prototype 

For DJ Trumps new wall

The bartender huddled under the bar

Playing candy crush

Slowly yet frequently 

Patrons position themselves 

Every one on a cell phone 

Silently.

They sit 

They drink 

They stare at their hand

Screen dreamers

Searching for lost dreams 

Within hand held screens

Some find love

Some find hate

Others file their taxes

Myself, I do the same 

Writing with my thumb

Staring at my screen 

Shuffling my thoughts

Updating my dreams 

Digitally deconstructing 

Anything or anyone 

Cause I have nothing else to do.

Thomas St Thomas 

New Mexico

Why I hate Phoenix

New Mexico

  

Doesn’t make any difference.

Where you go in New Mexico...cause there you are: Upon a windy mesa or in a timeless plaza. Inertia,as in existential, always by your side.  A Cosmic Kemosabe. 

Formless, weightless...not so....as an overloaded bag at check in, no amount of discarding yields unto.... 

Some blame the altitude, the manana attitud

  

Doesn’t make any difference.

Where you go in New Mexico...cause there you are: Upon a windy mesa or in a timeless plaza. Inertia,as in existential, always by your side.  A Cosmic Kemosabe. 

Formless, weightless...not so....as an overloaded bag at check in, no amount of discarding yields unto.... 

Some blame the altitude, the manana attitude....or the Californians . Regardless,there you are. Like blondie on a mule in a mirage, so thirsty.  In New Mex we are all living our own private spaghetti western. “Nice hat....too bad about the head full of noodles"

Red, green, Christmas? Doesn’t make any difference either burning sensation momentarily. Thaws the mind, not unlike a rogue iceburg calved free to melt elsewhere only to be obliterated by the titanic sense of nothingness. Constant as tinnitus, the wailing toil of a restless siren, broncs bareback within the center of the cerebral corral. Sadistic muses like rodeo clowns distract and redirect oneself to the Reality of life, the snorting confused tortured bull, pursuing the last curtain call. If you are a newbie to this land of ancients, be warned. This land of enchantment will pummel you into mentorship; by observing the space between the chants you will find yourself. Alone. 

Thomas St Thomas 

Thoughts on life

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