This is TJ Little.
At once a parent, painter, pirate and poet, TJ Little is a punk rock bodhisattva of the highest order. He wields his brush like a scalpel, deftly carving all manner of claptrap, flapdoodle and codswallop into the cork sniffing toffee nosed face of the fine art establishment. He is well versed in both fart and dick jokes and has achieved mastery of all 13 forms of ancient monkeyshines. Like the 1956 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket – a concept car that was a bit too wild for production – he is certainly one of a kind (and slowly rusting as well). His coming was foretold in 1677 by the Great Scottish Brahan Seer, and 300 years later in 1977, Travis Jackson Little coalesced into the body of a hairless primate on planet Earth.
In TJ’s formative years he was an atrocious artist. He had no apparent comprehension of color, balance, or drama and displayed no innate talent or technique. Without any artistic pedigree or training, his early body of work is considered almost childish in its execution. One art critic described it as “simultaneously plebeian, hideous, and baroque with the only redeeming quality of being highly flammable.”
He soon discovered the Soulciety Crew. TJ and this merry band of misfits wasted no time diarrhetically spraying their artwork all over the naughty nooks and crannies of the Mile High City. This artistic guerrilla warfare continued as the city grew into its britches. If you’re a Denver OG, you’ve seen evidence of his influence and smelled some of his shit over the years. His Denver roots go deep and his bones are part of the scaffolding.
TJ has sworn a sacred vow to defend true art to the death and has declared a holy jihad on the unclean masses of chardonnay guzzling crap crafters that are busy bedazzling their suburban hellscape. He has recently joined forces with several other holy crusaders to establish the Mighty Von Donut, a Denver-based syndicate of like-minded artists, to promote free expression and holy artistic communion.
The specific day is unknown when he will fulfill his own prophecy and return to the mothership to join the Artistas de los Muertos in spreading their artistic seed throughout the galaxy, but until then we should count ourselves lucky that he remains among us.