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GR: What do you think about art education?
ET: In a sense, it's a contrived piece of crap. A lot of schools will give ideas and direction to students and say, "Go with it." If you have a talent and art-speak your art (know exactly what to say to sell your work), then any piece of crap could become a great piece of art. That's what VCU taught me. When you leave art school--at least a lot of art schools on the East Coast--you don't leave being a professional artist. You don't know how to make proper slides. You don't know how to make a proposal for an installation. You don't know anything about that.
GR: When was the last time you had a breakthrough in your art, like a stylistic revelation or something?
ET: My last stylistic revelation was landscapes. I was afraid to do something without a figure in it. I thought it wouldn't create enough interest. I didn't think anyone would give it the time of day. I didn't think I'd get anything out of it. But I've painted 50 landscapes in the past year and I can't stop. Another breakthrough has been not having to rely on outdoor murals. I've been in the studio a lot more, working on canvas and working on Masonite and gesso. I know that's not very exciting.
GR: How do you feel when you paint? Is it different than when you're drumming?
ET: It's not. My studio is set up with drums and canvasses everywhere. It's a mysterious aesthetic that I don't understand. It's a peaceful thing. When you're working on a painting, six hours go by, you have no idea where the time has gone, and you've created something, it's amazing. It's the same thing with drums. All of my paintings somehow create a rhythm inside them--whether it's the way I'm painting or the actual composition when I'm done. It all compares to how I play drums. I can't do one without the other.
GR: How has painting affected you as a drummer?
ET: If you look at my drumming, it's composition. Instead of bashing out a song, you can create moods through drums. Different approaches and different brushes become different drums. Painting has helped me quite a bit in being an emotional drummer and not just a straight timekeeper.
GR: It seems that your art and Avail's music are both meant for the people.
ET: They're both definitely for the people. A lot of Avail's songs have the idea that a mass of people's voices can be heard instead of one voice not being heard. The images in my paintings are about looking to the past to see how we've failed the future.
GR: Do you think your art is "punk"?
ET: Yeah, I think it can be called that because punk is a pretty broad term. It's something that's not the considered norm. It's not punk in the sense that I'm doing something so rebellious that people are freaking out, but it deals with ideas that a lot of people don't want to deal with right now.
GR: One might think that like your traditional style of painting would conflict with Avail's hardcore punk style of music.
ET: Avail has a populist-type stance. It brings people together. There's an amazing energy that comes when we set up, I get behind the drum set, and there are 500 people waiting for me to click the sticks. When I click the sticks, the music erupts, the kids go off, and the energy circles directly back to us and we feed off of that. It's a wonderful thing. It's the same feeling I get when I put up an illegal mural on the side of a building. I'll go up on a hill and watch people walk past it. They'll stop and look for a second, and that's the greatest feeling in the world.
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