VIEW IN MY ROOM
Cracker Island (What World Is This?) Painting
Painting, Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 60 W x 72 H x 1.5 D in
Ships in a Crate
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About The Artwork
On Cracker Island it was born To the collective of the dawn They were planting seeds at night To grow a made-up paradise Where the truth was auto-tuned (forever cult) And it's sadness I consumed (forever cult) Into my formats every day (forever cult) In the end, I had to pay (what world is this?) In the end, I had to pay (I purged my soul) In the end I had to pay (I drank to riot) Nothing more to say (I drank to riot) They taught themselves to be occult They didn't know its many strategies They taught themselves to be occult They didn't know its many strategies (fantasies) What world is this? What world is this? On Cracker Island it was raised (hey, hey, hey, hey) By the collective from the grave (hey, hey, hey, hey) It only came out at night (hey, hey, hey, hey) It ate up their paradise (paradise) Where the truth was auto-tuned (forever cult) And it's sadness I consumed (forever cult) Into my formats every day (forever cult) In the end, I had to pay (what world is this?) Out there on my silver lake (I was not there) In the end, it will be great (beneath the hills) I'm like a ship between the tide (I saw myself) I held on, I survived (there in the void) They taught themselves to be occult They didn't know its many strategies They taught themselves to be occult They didn't know its many strategies (fantasy) (Ooh, ooh) On Cracker Island it will die (forever cult) Join the collective in the sky (forever cult) And on a shining bolt of light (forever cult) Go up to paradise (what world is this?) Where the truth is auto-tuned (I purged my soul) And it's sadness I consume (I drank to riot) Into my formats every day (I drank to riot) In the end I had to pay (forever cult) In the end I'll have to pay (forever cult) In the end I'll be okay (forever cult) Nothing more to say (say, say, say, say) Nothing more to say (say, say, say, say) Nothing more to say (say, say, say, say) 'Cracker Island' by Gorillaz Songwriters: Damon Albarn / Greg Kurstin / Stephen Bruner
Details & Dimensions
Painting:Acrylic on Canvas
Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork
Size:60 W x 72 H x 1.5 D in
Frame:Not Framed
Ready to Hang:Yes
Packaging:Ships in a Crate
Shipping & Returns
Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.
Handling:Ships in a wooden crate for additional protection of heavy or oversized artworks. Crated works are subject to an $80 care and handling fee. Artists are responsible for packaging and adhering to Saatchi Art’s packaging guidelines.
Ships From:United States.
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I’m (I am?) a self-taught artist, originally from the north suburbs of Chicago (also known as John Hughes' America). Born in 1984, I started painting in 2017 and began to take it somewhat seriously in 2019. I currently reside in rural Montana and live a secluded life with my three dogs - Pebbles (a.k.a. Jaws, Brandy, Fang), Bam Bam (a.k.a. Scrat, Dinki-Di, Trash Panda, Dug), and Mystique (a.k.a. Lady), and five cats - Burglekutt (a.k.a. Ghostmouse Makah), Vohnkar! (a.k.a. Storm Shadow, Grogu), Falkor (a.k.a. Moro, The Mummy's Kryptonite, Wendigo, BFC), Nibbler (a.k.a. Cobblepot), and Meegosh (a.k.a. Lenny). Part of the preface to the 'Complete Works of Emily Dickinson helps sum me up as a person and an artist: "The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson long since called ‘the Poetry of the Portfolio,’ something produced absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it may often gain something through the habit of freedom and unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the present author, there was no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, literally spending years without settling her foot beyond the doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, like her person, from all but a few friends; and it was with great difficulty that she was persuaded to print during her lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiosity indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." -Thomas Wentworth Higginson "Not bad... you say this is your first lesson?" "Yes, but my father was an *art collector*, so…"
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