So if you couldn't tell we are overly excited to announce our new layout as well as a new social network we have attached for readers and artists to display work, comment, meet friends, and way way way more...

That's right! Aside from our main site, we have created a social newtwork allowing readers to interact with each other and contributing artists! There are forums, photo and video galleries, event lists, and even a chatroom!...please stop by and sign up!

I am pleased to have a new piece by Leila Arciero published. The story entitled, Loving a Ghost, is quite a nice read. Please be a patron and good reader and go check it out!

When I close my eyes, you are a ghost, lingering on the edge of my dreams, dancing on my eyelashes. Struggling to keep you in focus invites miscellaneous mirages to appear in the desert. My brain is a barren wasteland. Winds settle little grains of sand like fickle interior designers. Perhaps this grain would look better over by the frontal lobe instead of the temporal. No, let’s move this one to the parietal and keep this other particular grain in the temporal. And these three gains need to be sent to the occipital. I feel moisture escaping. My eyes are sandpaper, rolling to the back of my head at night. My days have drained me. My nights are my time alone with you. In the distance, where the heat blurs your figure, stands you.

Our next moment together is in a bar, where we have to give blood samples to order a pint.

“So many diseases walk through the door…” The waiter tells me as an amoeba sits on a bar stool and gets brusquely asked to leave.

Your eyes transport me. I’m lost in what could be. We haven’t spoken yet and you tilt your head in a way that makes me want to kiss those begging lips.

“My job sucks,” I laugh as I say it.

“I know.” Of course, you would know.

There aren’t words for us, for you and me and this pseudo bar. My pint is thick and burly. Yours is tall and curvy. Words pour out of me. Things I haven’t even thought yet come streaming out of my mouth in a straight line. You take the words and pin them on a clothes line, gingerly. We watch them dry as we sip our drinks.

“You know, I’ll always do this, I’ll always be here,” you say that as a breeze brings in a few grains of confused sand.

“I know,” I say. I reach for your hand. It slithers away inch by inch and I chase it across the table. Soon, I am in your lap and it’s comforting. Our smiles brew. Our fingers entwine like wisteria. Your eyes sound like the ocean.

My thighs find yours as my fingers play hide and seek in your hair. I feel your hands wandering up my back. Your breath fogs up my neck. Migrating, you reach all of me. Having you close feels like the thrill of blowing on dandelions, of making a wish. All my hopes, my dreams, my desires, my wants, my needs rise and fall with me on top of you.

Your lips, those impeccable mounds of sugar and spice, feel like pillows.

My phone vibrates as the horrible dawn breaks. I lose you, again. Till tonight. Till tonight. Tonight.

After a long awaited separation from our hiatus, we are back on track. We have posted an all new short story by our well-loved poet, Yossarian Hunter, entitled Close Encounters of the Jimmy Kind.

We are also in the works in our endeavors to set up an art show in Downtown Wilmington (NC)...so stay tuned!

Close Encounters of the Jimmy Kind

When Jimmy called, I knew he needed a favor. He’s been struggling for a while, charges left and right in addition to one wicked monkey on his back. When he asked if I had a couple ps2 games he could borrow, that was odd. Used to be he’d call needing a rig or a couple k4’s. Having cleaned up about five years ago myself, video games came as a relief. I can do that.

“Man, they dropped the twenty six misdemeanors and gave me five years paper for the felony. The non-adjudicated felony.” Some guys get all the breaks. Jimmy ain’t one of them, but it seemed to be his turn. “I’ma video game playing fool till I get this behind me. Oh yeah, I got an old ghetto-ass tv too. You got one-a them adapters for a Playstation?”

I had the RF switch he needed, but no power source. Fuck, I knew I’d need that thing again, but threw it away a week ago anyway. Spring cleaning in the middle of winter. “I do, but I’ll have to pass through Wally-World and pick up a power adaptor. See ya in a bit.”

The Iranians I needed to talk to about a job were nowhere to be found. Typical. I popped into Wal-mart for the power supply. Multi-voltage power source ten bucks. Checking the RF switch for voltage and polarity yielded no usable information. Another disposable modern convenience. New RF switch eighteen bucks. Better call Jimmy and check his finances. Mine were for shit. Spotting him ten could be done, but twenty would put me in a nicotine fit. “Aw man, fuck that power thingy. We’ll make it work.” If you say so Jimmy.

I got over to Jimmy’s new place at crosstown and tried to make the switch work. It would run cable through just fine, but without power the rca inputs were not going to convert to co-ax. Jimmy was unphased. “I’ll head over and liberate one in a bit. Wal-mart’s kinda like the government. I don’t steal from friends but the man is another story.” Yep, same old Jimmy.

“Come on man, you’re on paper.”

“Not yet I ain’t. Don’t report till next Thursday.” Great. A one week time bomb.
He was about to take off on his BMX when Josh hollered down from the upstairs apartment.

“Hey maine, got the new Midnight Club and a phatty. Let’s bake.”

Bet. Josh used to work for the Iranians and I needed to talk about that a little. Plus he has a nice Takamine to boot. Sounded like fun.

Jimmy and I were racing when his phone started barking. I was driving a 69 Camaro. Detroit muscle gives me wood. Jimmy is more of a new-school kind of guy. He drove some sort of Mazda. I was killing him when we got interrupted.

Jimmy’s off and on girl Tara has been in stir for about a month. Something about vandalizing the car of another chic Jimmy was banging. So maybe he does get all the breaks. He beat the charges, after all, and has more whores chasing him than I could shake my dick at. Fucker.

He hit the speaker on button. “Hey what are you doing” was as far as Tara got before being cut off by “…is attempting to call you from a correctional facility. Do you accept the charges? Press one to accept, press two to refuse.” Jimmy pressed neither. “I’m sitting here wishing you were on my dick.” The call auto-terminated after that. Apparently that is how they communicate. A series of call and response sessions with recorded operator drivel in-between.

Ring. “I better be the only one on your dick” Operator. “Then you better get out soon” Click.

Ring. “I’m serious. Don’t be fuc...” Operator. “I am too. When you out?” Click.

Ring. “Next week. I’ll know if…” Operator. “I got two bitches here now. Whatcha gonna do?” Click.

Ring. “Don’t fuck with me, I’ll…” Operator. “You get out, I’ll still get mine. Now and then.” Click. I love this guy. He’s right, too. I mean, a chick that would blow you at the table in the bar with TJO playing live to a packed house can’t have too many principles, can she?

They went back and forth a few more times before another inmate needed some phone time. Josh fired the hooter and we went back to the races. When Jimmy reached for the joint, I jumped and knocked him back. “Whoa man, you’ze on paper, remember? You wanna go to prison or what?”

“Man, I already told you I don’t start till next week. Let a brother get his buzz on.” I really couldn’t argue with that, so we smoked. Two or three joints later I was baked and hungry and ready for the drive back home. Jimmy was ready to go to wal-mart.

“Come on Jimmy, you just got all those charges dropped, now you’re gonna catch another one. That switch is in a big plastic shell box and the make-the-alarm-go-off-thingy is on the inside. Don’t be a fool.”

“I’m not. It’s wal-mart, man. They got scissors too.”

©2009 yossarian hunter

As you all have probably noticed, we have had some dead air at NC Lowbrow. Needless-to-say, we'll be getting back on track within the week. I hope to see more contributors and maybe even some sweet ideas on art shows, poetry readings, and much much more

That's Right. RiotCore Collective's design was featured today on Zazzle's homepage. The product, a skate deck designed with Rasta aesthetic already got an honorable mention. If you would like to see and/or buy this product, please travel to:

http://www.zazzle.com/pd/awards

or

visit the RiotCore Online Store @:

http://www.zazzle.com/riotcorecreative


For more info or to comission/hire RiotCore Creative please visit the online portfolio @:

RiotCore Collective

I know some of us our getting hyped on the Inauguration, but for some of us who have lived in the D.C. area most of our lives, this is just another political fiasco. Blocking up roads, making us late for work, even making our public transportation stay at a standstill, just is not the way to live.

So for those of you distracted by work, or other conceivable measures today, we have updates.

We have a brand new poem afloat by poet Newamba Flamingo. A real grit scribble shadowing Mr. William S. Burroughs, yet set as more of a dedication or eulogy. Please be a patron to such amazing literary filth.

THE URINAL CAKE

IT
was those people that follow you around the museum
to make sure you don’t bend over, pull down your pants
and shit explosive diarrhea at the “Mona Lisa”

IT
was swinging from vines like Tarzan,
curing every vaginal yeast infection in town,
singing that Foo Fighter’s song “My Hero”

IT
was flying kamikaze helicopters, dropping skydiving midgets without parachutes,
throwing empty soup cans at homeless people in Houston for a questionable, lifeless reprisal

IT
was drinking urine mixed with gin and MDMA, eating cake while wacking off to paintings of Marie Antoinette’s decapitated body
after driving a Smart Car into Monte Carlo with faulty brakes and no muffler

IT
was fucking the cunt of ten pence tomorrows,
slapping the fog out of today in rancid retribution,
pissing blood at Margret Thatcher’s Wikipedia page in an abandoned public library somewhere in Leeds

IT
was wearing a trench coat,
running in circles,
flashing schoolgirls while castrating itself with a dental saw
screaming under the tongue, “HALLAYYLOOOYAAAHH!”

IT
was babbling bibliographies, singing the theme song from the “Brady Bunch,”
eating pancakes soaked in mescaline
breathing in fecal fire on a hot winter day in Perth

IT
SPAWNED THE SEED OF SATAN!!!!!!
THAT URINAL I USED IN 1993!!!!!!!!!

IT
hated poetry and brutally fistfucked every poet’s surgically repaired pussy and torched every white trash mobile home in Kentucky because
IT DID NOT understand or appreciate cinquains and really wanted to punch Moliere in the stomach

IT
flew on the wings of vultures wearing Sarah Palin’s skidmarked thong,
but didn’t have adequate dental coverage
and just let out a nasty fart in a crowded elevator

IT
wore a dunce cap and kicked little boys in the nuts because of a small dick syndrome
that the prickly penis pump picked out of a precocious pantry in Pasadena
only
circumcised

IT
raped Mother Goose with gas guzzlers on the highway driving too slowly
leaving the left blinker on for twenty fucking minutes!

IT
waded through fields of animal carcasses due to the hungry, vegan, and ashamed

IT
marched in teargas protest, however, was afraid to unleash that secret army of sweatshop slave 11 year olds from Malaysia
who want to free Tibet with fur coats, nun chucks, skateboards, and top hats

IT
shot people in the face with piss filled water guns all over the streets of Cincinnati;
and broke down crying later;
called the Psychic Hotline,
watched Oprah,
laughed hysterically for an hour
and then took a big, hairy shit in the bathtub before calling “Joe the Plumber”

IT
lined up outside the mall on Black Friday- last Tuesday- in makeshift tents made out of excrement
trampled several store employees to death in a melee
and even didn’t find what it was looking for anyway

IT
maxed out a credit card – just to replace a loan – just to live a lie

IT
stole Paris Hilton’s right testicle and took transvestites hostage in Stockholm after removing their breast implants on the back nine of Augusta
dressed up in Bath Ruth’s uniform smoking a Cuban cigar, making noises like an orangutan with constipation

IT
burned books with Reality TV and had Ambien nightmares of Spoken Word Poets digging ditches while wearing barbed wire corsets and dancing (occasionally) the “Spastic Cabbage Patch” sporting those four-hour erections the TV keeps on warning us about but nobody expects will happen to them, maybe to somebody named Fred or Bob or Ted or Chad, but not to them

IT WAS TRAVELLING WITH VAIN HOPES OF NOTHING IN:
Berlin
Zurich
London
Paris
and some city in Eastern Europe…

IT
banged on the doors of occupied toilet stalls at the airport in Frankfurt and ran apeshit amok poking random people in the eyes, doing earsplitting Three Stooges impersonations

IT
dressed up like Ronald McDonald and dangled Happy Meals in the faces of starving children only to jump into a Hummer and drive off playing loud, bass booming CRUNK Hip Hop music, throwing up gang-signs like Ali G or a demented deaf person on some type of mind altering hallucinogenic drug, yelling “YEAHYAH” rapidly like Lil Jon or Dave Chappelle

IT
ate twenty black bean dinners out of a sombrero while stranded in an alley in Mexico City
where a flock of 40 year old heroin hookers prayed to IT every night out of spite,
laughing themselves delusional,
they wept later and played a solemn flute
then bought a live cobra off Ebay,
watched “Die Hard” on acid,
and read “Lazarus” fifty times in a row to J. Alfred Prufrock who was strung out on meth and Barbie dolls and was attempting to contact Robert Frost
because his neighbor was building an intrusive fence somewhere in Cambodia

IT
NEVER REPEATED
IT
NEVER REPENTED

IT
brought denial to every repulsive reflection

IT
crippled every aspiration in Santa’s satanic six block radius

Now let
IT
ask the reader this,
Do YOU, fair reader, believe in reincarnation?
The urinal cake does…


*Dedicated to William S Burroughs

**Also Published at everypoet.net

Here at NC Lowbrow we realize that most, if not all of what we are doing would not be possible without certain people. To honor them is difficult since the magnitude of assistance is still leaving us in awe. I will compile a small list here:

1. RiotCore Creative Without Andre Riot (me haha!), our graphics would not be possible.


2. Murder Freak He sponsors everything and all that we do. He has contributed and aside from being a billion miles away in Singapore, he has spread the word about us. International shout out!


3. Paul Baines Though based in the UK, his contribution is really kicking ass. He has linked us on his blog and helped us seek higher audiences. Thanks Bainsky!


4. MR. Dead Ever since college, this dude has been a good friend, a co-partner in my skate industry endeavors, and ultimately one of the Illustrators that has influenced my life the most. His work is worth checking out, his clothing worth buying.

Other mentions: Leila Arciero (the NEW! Lead Editor), Yossarian Hunter (poet), and way more than I can truly mention. If your name isn't here, that DOES NOT mean we don't respect your help!

Thanks again to all of you readers and contributors. You fucking rock!

That's right folks, NC LOWBROW WEBZINE has officially changed its name and aims at showcasing the same great talent, but also aims at provifding more community-based events such as poetry readings, art shows, and more...

If you have any suggestions either locally (Wilmington, NC) or within moderate distance, please let us know. We are open to your ideas. Afterall, this collective is for the reader as well the artist.

DON'T BE AFRAID WE HAVEN'T CHANGED (except the title!)

NC LOWBROW WILL BE BACK UP SOON. STAY TUNED!

Hey all! We got some good things brewing on NC LOWBROW WEBZINE. We have launched our street art galleries in full and have also started up our SHORT STORIES section with a short by Leila Arciero (Hawaiian native residing in Wilmington, NC).

Leila has also contributed an article on Tattoo artist Sarah Peacock. Please support her killer writing and imagery. Go Read!


Cheers.

By: Leila Arciero

From the outside looking in, it’s not what you think. Maybe it’s a quaint cozy home or a random ritzy clothing store. It’s only upon closer inspection that Artfuel reveals itself to be an art gallery and a tattoo studio. Inside, are the soothing sounds of low music mixed with the hum of a tattoo machine. Sarah Peacock, the owner of the shop welcomes everyone, in slightly paint stained jeans and a hoodie reading “soymilk.” Her hair is a wild nest of red curls. She smiles and invites you in with the remnants of an English accent glossed over by her time in America.

Sarah is from a tiny town in North Yorkshire, England. The same little town as Captain Cook.

“Which is ironic,” she says. “Because Captain Cook was the guy that brought tattooing back to the West from the Tahitian Islands. I don’t know how I ended up here.” Also, like Captain Cook, she felt the need to explore her world and beyond.

After getting her first tattoo at the age of 17, Sarah has been fascinated with the art form of tattooing. It wasn’t until she was 21 that she met a woman with full sleeves.

“I was fascinated with how people decorated themselves,” Sarah says. “It was also a time when not a lot of people were getting pierced and I was heavily into body adornment.”

Now, Sarah has been tattooing for 13 years. What started as a teenage fascination has turned into a successful career. From working in street shops, to co-owning her own shop, she finally has a space to call her own. Fixating herself in the public as a custom tattoo artist. It has not always been easy for Sarah to follow her dreams. After going to school for design in England, she came to America as a traveling sign writer. Eventually joining the Renaissance Festival circuit for four years.

Sarah mentions, “They are definitely a facet of life. To live in that community is really interesting. It afforded me a cheap way of seeing this country, meeting good people and just having life experience.” Sarah’s travels have made her proud to say, “I’ve always managed to finance myself through my art.”

SARAH’S CRAFTS

What Sarah is known for in the tattoo world varies from what she actually does.

“I get a lot of Japanese work. A lot of sleeves, larger scale pieces. Full color, I’m known for color. But then I’m also known for realism too, so I’ll get portraits. Angels based off sculptures, fine art,” says Sarah. She has a knack for detail and color but when someone brings her a piece to tattoo, she adds her own flair. “I’ll rework the clients’ idea with them, or I’ll try to figure out where they’re coming from and present it in a different manner. It’s a little more palatable, I guess.” She is very careful with the pieces she tattoos. “You are giving something of yourself away in each piece.”

Sarah is sought after for her tattoo work. Even her tattooing has a hint of her painting in it. She can’t sit down and do a tattoo without allowing herself the comfort of painting.

“I’m very paintly with my tattooing. I’ve come against criticism for that, because it’s not a traditional approach and some people just feel like that is not the way to do it. I can’t be unnatural to myself. My line work is the most traditional part of my tattoo process. It’s crisp, it’s clear and it’s solid. From then on in, it’s like a painting. I still respect the fundamental elements of how to put in a solid tattoo and I know my limitations with that. But then I don’t feel bound in by any regulations. Once I put that line work down, that’s it. I switch off and I just do it.”

Over the years, Sarah has honed her craft in both painting and tattooing. She is a sponge soaking up a multitude of influences and gaining them from an assortment of different places.

“Everyday is something new,” says Sarah. “I see everyday as being O.K. Where do I learn from now? There are so many great tattooists, brilliant. I mean how can you not be inspired? I wouldn’t say I even have favorites. I glean too much from too many things to pinpoint it down. I’ll work from anything. I’m like a magpie.”

But Sarah’s love of art, like many custom tattoo artists extends beyond inking skin. Her recent re-devotion to her painting career allows her artwork to be displayed on her gallery’s walls and in peoples’ homes as well as splattered across the country on walking skin canvasses. The art that decorates the walls of Artfuel are in no way mainstream. As much as she borrows from other entities to make her own art, there is a very bold line dividing her painting and her tattooing career.

“My painting is my way of removing myself from that crazy idealistic perfectionist side of me that you have to have as a tattooer. But funny enough, my painting is like realism, but it’s not portrait style. It’s not so adamantly exact that I’m putting pressure on myself. I’m more about relaxing and letting the brush make it’s mark. It’s a good balance.”

Within the comfortable confines of her new gallery, she has the freedom to work on either craft. Even though it may seem like there are not enough hours in the day, “If I’m not tattooing, I’m painting, and if I’m not painting, I’m tattooing.”

SARAH’S FUTURE

“This year it’s all about transformation and flight,” Sarah explains. “You know buoyancy. Dropping things I don’t need. Putting the old suitcases down and being free to go ahead and be courageous enough to take the next move. I feel like I’m moving into a different transition in my life. So my art’s reflecting that.” The opening of Artfuel has allowed Sarah to look at her long-term goals. She controls this environment and shapes it to her specifications. She’s allowed to work when she wants and paint when she feels like painting. There is reassurance imbedded in the walls for her at Artfuel.

Having her own studio/gallery has given Sarah the opportunity to work at her own pace. “I try and take days off,” Sarah admits. “But generally what happens is I’m stuck in the middle of a huge piece and they haven’t booked enough appointments, so I’ll bring them in. But the thing is though, I’m still accessible to my painting and I’m still in a quiet atmosphere. I’ve got a great circumstance. I make my own hours. I work good hours. I don’t wipe myself out by making myself work. I know what my limits are and I will say to someone if I’m burnt out, if I’ve been tattooing seven hours. You have to recognize limits.”

Sarah’s studio is tailor-made for her and this allows her the ability to stop and start when she is comfortable. This is necessary to maintain her endurance and creativity in both art forms.

“I’ll be 50,” she exclaims. “My career … has been a really wonderful career; it’s been very exciting, very successful on every level. I don’t want to ruin it by physically deteriorating. I do not want to start churning out bad stuff. This environment here is perfect for me because I’m going to start concentrating on (painting), which is way less stressful, way less pressured, but still tattoo and hopefully kind of economically balance it out to the point where I don’t kill myself tattooing.”

“Everyday of my life, when I work and I deal with people I thank them for giving me the chance to tattoo them and to send them away with a design. That’s so important to me. You’re putting someone to the edge of anxiety and fear and you have to help them through that. I don’t feel like I’m sitting on that pedestal and you have to damn climb up that pedestal to get to me. I feel it’s the opposite I am absolutely thankful and grateful to do this. You get a friendship with that person. I have a wonderful clientele base. So what that you slightly blur the lines of business and friendship. You’re only as good as your customer.” And with this Sarah Peacock feels confident that she and Artfuel will be around for years to come.

WE DONT KNOW WHATS UP BUT OUR BACKGROUND IS MESSED UP! HOLD TIGHT WELL BE BACK ONLINE SOON

Hey all, as we are trying to get our Street Art section fully stocked, we need a helping hand with getting photos up and running. If you, or anyone you know, would like to submit a nice batch of photos, please Contact Us

I know I told you the new Street Art gallery was redone and up before...but I lied...now it's REALLY up...go check it out:

http://nclowbrow.blogspot.com/search/label/Street%20Art

I know a few of you have been throwing me emails asking what the specs are to get your work upon our site. Well, for one, we have to like it, number two go check out the guidelines. We put time and effort (not really) into writing those for your enjoyment (hahaha).

We would also like to announce that we have an official submission and contact form for more ease!

Now submitting your work to NC LOWBROW is way easier!

That's right we have added new pictures to our street art section go peep them!
Thanks to everyone submitting photos!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Graff scene has been morphing and escalating since the early pieces of the late 70's. On top of this, the "tools of the trade" have also progressed.

Spray paint is the biggest asset to any graffiti, stencil, or general street artist. Back in the day, there were a limitation of companies producing quality paints, giving artists slim pickings to chose from. Nowadays, the range of brands producing high caliber paints is overabundant.All aspects of the paints have changed, from nozzles (caps) to colors being more vivid, to a drip control feature loved by many artists.

Krylon was one of the first pioneers of spray paint, creating basic colors for every day use. Over the years, they have come up with more vibrant colors, nozzles that are stock yet have modified tips. Some artists claim to hold true to Krylon due to its reputation and comfort. As well, some older artists hold true to their roots.

Though renowned, Krylon was not the only brand issuing aerosol cans. Rustoleum pulled through with a reputation for being better on metalic and steel surfaces. The colors were also basic but still advocated by many. Today, Rusto (as called for short)still remains basic with similar can design and red nozzles.

The freshest of the bunch (rather of the ones I'll mention) is Montana Paint. Based out of Spain, this paint is claimed drip free. It runs high in brilliance with its color selection. Limes, hot pinks, Popsicle oranges, wicked blues, and way way more. The nozzles are stocked with custom tips used for intense calligraphy, wide, thin, ultra thin, and ultra fat sprays. Aside, these caps can be purchased separtely at stores such as ArtPrimo.com, Bombing Science,and more online.

So where does this leave us as street, graffiti, and stencil artists? Apparently a place where the choices are harder to make, yet discretion is wild. So my questions to you as readers is:

What's your preference? If I have not listed it respond and explain who makes the paint, why its better or equal to the mentioned ones, and where a consumer such as myself can find it. Cheers.

Hey all. With the growth of NC LOWBROW, we have gained a knowledge that our site provides limitations with its structure. What's my point?

We are looking for a talented DESIGNER to redesign our site via Blogger.

If you or anyone you know can create a magazine style layout that will work with all the sidebar widgets (without deleting them)...please contact us ASAP.

At the time we cannot PAY for services, but will give you a gracious 4 months FREE ADVERTISING!!!!!!

That's some badass exposure which we typically will be running for $10.00 USD a month...That's a saving of $40

HIT US UP!

New stuff on the rise. But for now, please go check out Illinois Graphic Artists, Keith Whetstone's work (Graphic Art) .....Well worth it!

Hey all, aside from our new galleries featuring submitted artists, poets, and such, we are in need of an audience and returning fanbase. Best way for you all to connect with other artists is by joining the Forums. Talk shit, post pics, get to no one another. NETWORK! NETWORK! NETWORK!

Hopefully the new artist/poet additions will give you that boost to surface your aesthetic and literary creations.

Oh Snap! That's right NC LOWBROW has a new section titled Graphic Art. Go check out our solo gallery dedicated to U.K. artist, Paul Baines.

Thanks to Paul for his sick contribution!

Keep an eye out for more content.

This shit is goood!

• Paul Baines Graphic Art


• Andre Riot Graphic Art
  


• Keith Whetstone Graphic Art
  

If you all have yet to feast your eyes on the Fine Art and Photos Section, your missing out on one of the biggest aspects of our site. We have new work by Matt Curran, Jim Edwards, Terry Rivenbark, and yours truly Andre Riot.

Spread the word about us! We have banners on our Promote Us page so you can show your loyalty to us on your website, blog, Facebook, Myspace, Xanga, you name it.

New things to come:

• Graffiti Galleries
• CD Reviews
• Show Reviews
• Short Stories

Hello! I know you all are getting shit-faced and crapping leftover ham, but I just thought a mid-holiday update would be sweet.

We just added a Fine Art section to the webzine and added one of the sickest stencil artists, Matt Curran. As well, we have a local Wilmington photographer's work, Jim Edwards, in the Photos section

Happy holidays and merry crappings...

Andre Riot

So most likely the NC LOWBROW crew will be enjoying their holiday festivities. Which, as you all could guess by now, means we will be on HIATUS.

However depressing, we shall be back after X-mas with all new content, photos, and more.

For now, we have added a couple of photographers (the photo editor and myself haha) to our Photos section.

GO CHECK IT OUT!

HAVE A SAFE A KICKASS X-MAS! CHEERS!

The NC LOWBROW CREW