4am LA Nights

2025

Acrylic, Oil, Spray Paint, Krink Pen on canvas 

36 x 48

$5000

This is Los Angeles stripped of its glamour and dipped in satire-neon-fried, Botox-filled, and spiritually bankrupt. A dystopian postcard from the city of illusions where everyone’s on the make, on the run, or on something.

Front and center: Batman, not brooding over Gotham but fighting crime in L.A.-armed with a Dom Perignon-shaped shield because down there, champagne is armor. He’s surrounded by chaos: mutated orange virus blobs with wiry red hair symbolize the toxic energy of the city-fake friends, social climbers, clout addicts. He’s doing his best, cape dragging through the smog.

Above him, two dogs-turned-superheroes float like sidekicks. 

The pair of breasts on his shoulder, A nod to the currency of vanity. 9000 stamped below them like a price tag. Nothing’s real here unless it can be bought, flaunted, or surgically enhanced.

To the right, two bunny-faced burglars in black. Cute. Dangerous. Pink-eyed. They’re waiting to pounce on wealth and weakness alike-perfect metaphors for those in L.A. who smile in your face and rob you blind in spirit. They’re dressed for a heist, but they’re really after identity.

Then the words Farbon Ciber. A gloriously incorrect version of “carbon fiber”-like something a wannabe influencer would mispronounce while flexing their lease payments on Instagram. A joke inside a roast wrapped in truth.

Cars, yachts, mansions, and boobs become part of the set dressing. A fever dream of wealth and status all painted in childlike strokes and warped perspective-as if even me, the artist, couldn’t take that city seriously when I lived there. Great weather and food though..