Mattѐ,alias Felonious Bastard, was born amidst a biking invasion during the Chang dynasty. Little known or remembered during these early years except perhaps obscure and somewhat questionable accounts of singing Partridge Family songs with philosopher Lao-Tzu while wearing underwear on their heads. At the [tender] age of 7 he was kidnapped by a rampant box of desperate and heavily armed Cheerios, whereupon he was forced to assume the position of captain and leader.

Some time later he was fell smitten and subsequently married a road kill wombat. While on vacation in Georgia during the doldrum summer of '73, he was arrested on various charges including bigamy (there had been an earlier episode involving a turnip), tasteless Mister Rogers impressions and feigned esoterocity. Eluding captivity, he has been on the run ever since.

As self proclaimed "...idiot in the corner...", he is proud to be amongst the 10 Most Ugly Men (?) in the Universe.

Let me first say that I hate Artists Statements. Maybe I hate to write one even more. That being said, to me, art does not have to pretty, nor does it need to match the sofa in the Living Room. It is not about liking something because I have been told that it is ‘good art’ or simply because it is expected of me. One of my biggest disappointments was waiting in line to get a glimpse of Mona Lisa at The Louvre: The pushing, shoving, the “oohs” and “aahs”, the mechanical voice of the curator as he explained some inane detail that was better left unknown before sliding the curtain back over the tiny frame…

I am fascinated by things often unseen, overlooked; the mundane, the ugly, the grotesque… I stop in the middle of the street and stare in awe at the textures of a rusted bit of metal, the outline of a squashed squirrel. Repetition intrigues me. One cigarette butt is a nasty bit of trash to find stuck on the bottom of your foot, however should you collect a handful, along with various other bits of debris, (coke bags, used condoms, a needle) and affix them to a canvas, write notes as detailed as a forensic scientist or urban archaeologist about your finds* – well, now I’m intrigued.

Dreams, History, Mythology, those funny little things that float across my vision, PEZ, bugs, bones, Dada, the things I was told to ignore or to be unaware of, garden gnomes, clouds, mist, thunder showers, pain, the Sun, the Moon and the Stars are all inspirations (unless I’m being presented with an award, I will stop this list here). Putting this all together into something as to be defined by ‘art’, is the real challenge…