James Mathers

Art-fiend love-bunny

As subtle as a glitter-caked brick to the forehead and as sharp as a Samurai sword etched with butterflies, Mayan glyphs and Hindu deities in compromising positions, James Mathers has this to say for himself: “My name is Toylit. I am a fuck-off scientist. I make rectangles for money.”

As an ontological terrorist/wordsmith/anarchist, Mathers exists so far outside the proverbial box that standard characterizations such as artist/poet/writer/philosopher prove reductive and bland, while the apt ones, such as idiot-genius/slacker/art fiend/neologist/love-bunny extraordinaire sound sensational. But he’s earned them. (read full article)

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(Read the full review by Peter Frank here)

 

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James Mathers’ Bohemian Rhapsody

By Pablo Capra

Growing up in Topanga Canyon, artist James Mathers was baby-sat by young women he described as “fantastic hippie girls” who would hitch-hike with him down to the beach, and then go to the Rodeo Grounds “to hang out in hot tubs with surfers and actors.”

Thus, Mathers became a part of the Lower Topanga community.

At 17, Mathers moved to New York to embark on his “glorious and disastrous” painting career. In the ’80s, he showed paintings in the Lower East Side, then moved to Europe where his paintings were exhibited by galleries in Switzerland and Italy. He spent a year painting in Indonesia, and four years in Ireland. In Ireland, he ran an anarchist bookstore called Garden of Delight and started writing screenplays. He sold one called “Crushproof,” about a subculture of tough young kids who rode horses through the streets of Dublin.

(read full article)

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