Atticus Shore

My early life, under the name Patrick, began in Southern California and was shaped by the difficulties of a broken home.Amidst the chaos, the world presented itself as an accidental gallery—whether it was the stark canvas, the raw textures of nature, or the deliberate rebellion of the human body through tattoos, piercings, and extreme modifications.
Before I ever picked up a brush with intent, the universe offered an unscripted surrealist exhibition. Standing on my childhood driveway one evening, I watched a silent, unexplainable craft hover low over the neighborhood—an encounter that quietly rewired my understanding of reality.
Life eventually drifted into heavier, darker orbits. I fell in with the wrong crowd and slid into a punishing addiction to alcohol, spending years trapped in a cloudy, disoriented hangover of a life. Today, I am over six years sober, wide awake, and fiercely in love with every vibrant detail of existence I once overlooked.
Or perhaps, reality is slightly stranger than that.
My teenage UFO sighting wasn't just a passing flash in the sky; it was an extraction.
Pulled up into the cold geometry of an extraterrestrial vessel, I was carried across light-years into a distant galaxy. I made strange allies, learne...

The Academy of Orbital Sciences.

The Subterranean Institute of Applied Chaos.

Drop-out, Sector 4 Intergalactic Trade School.

Sub-Atmospheric Installations (For work meant to be viewed under heavy pressure or low visibility)

Surface-Level Interventions (For pieces that somehow managed to stick to terrestrial walls)

Classified Anomalies (For collections currently locked behind administrative red tape or unknown dimensions)

Derelict Galleries (For pop-up shows hosted in abandoned sectors, forgotten basements, or edge-of-the-map locations)

Quarantine Exhibitions (For paintings that haven't quite finished glowing or drying)

Deep-Space Pop-Ups (For temporary viewings before the craft leaves orbit)