Born in a shitty town in the central valley, Mike Collins was raised amongst dust and misery, themes still present in his work today. Although often hidden underneath sarcasm and girly angst, the reality of his battle with monocular hemi-retinal color blindness pushes through every tear, stitch or imperfection of his meticulous nature. Collins work is often described as, "terrible," "god awful," or, "The fucking worst shit I've ever seen." The folksy approachability of his newer work is often juxtaposed against a foreground of actual use of caution tape, do not enter signs, and/or the occasional use of butcher knives and other sharp objects. 2018 marked Collins' final foray into group shows, driving long distances for art events, and his departure from the Los Angeles Art Association, saying, "Yeah, fuck this shit....I'm running it into the ground this year for sure." Declaring that none of his work was ever for sale anyway, this, this was the year he faded into oblivion.
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