Heroin is an insidious destroyer of souls. It comes on with good dreams and euphoria. There's little else like the soft warm waves that surge through your body. Like long lost secret memories from a cool heavenly death ,,, Life's worries and cares are over ... solved in an instant! But if you fuck with it too often it robs you of ALL your dreams. All the pleasures that life has allotted you are used up like sands that run out from an hour glass. It leaves you with only the desire to have IT again and again. That, and the frozen pain when you can't get it. It takes from you everything that that you thought justified your existence. You end up existing only for it ... as its slave. You will become SICK, STUPID and SEXLESS.

Perhaps you think that you can take it with impunity. I have NEVER met such a person. Take it just once and it will change you. It is a devil that is older than man and is more evil than any man can comprehend. It is only a chemical ... as are we all.

This composition is a diary of what was going on in my life while I painted it.

I have seen white heroin, brown heroin and Black Heroin ... I was also very "involved" with pharma.

12/2010 - a critique of Black Heroin
A critique written by a member of "DEVIANT ART" member name: therealjustinbailey

"Black Heroin" is like an early vinyl from a long established punk band, it surprises the newcomer with it's rawness. Of course your craftsmanship has improved over the years, but the indelible character that is R.S. Connett haunts "Black Heroin" as much as any subsequent work has.

The crudity of the style works to enhance the urgent terror pulsing from this piece, giving the impression of emotions put forth untainted by excessive reason. The choice of simple black and white evokes pencil drawings one might find occupying the notebook of an art student trying to stay awake during a trigonometry lecture. Each inch of canvas bears another detail to study, another secret to uncover, another character to pity. No other artist has grasped the spirit of modernity as well as you. Sensory overload? Our senses are filled until they overflow and then you still don't let up. Tortured faces mingle with gawking demons, bodily fluids are swallowed by unwilling mouths, a myriad of gross textures populate the canvas, cartoon creatures spout symbols that look like caricatures of Asian calligraphy. Critics may accuse this chaos of celebrating the madness of the modern world rather than making sense of it.

Such opinions fail to understand "Black Heroin" is an emotional piece, not an academic one. The point is that you can't make sense of it. Like a soldier amidst crossfire doesn't have the luxury of analyzing the moral implications of his situation, an addict only knows a world of empty pain. That emptiness is symbolized by the infinite darkness of the background. White borders the darkness, framing the void making me feel as an outsider looking into a world I want no part of.

Other critics will object to the violence and especially the explicit nudity. One wonders why anyone would expect a painting about heroin addiction to be inoffensive in the first place. As wonderful to look at as this and the rest of your paintings are they imprint us with terror. Terror that serves as a cautionary tale. Even if your warning is never heeded I think "Black Heroin" expands us as humans by working our sense of empathy. Penises are prominent, but nothing is erotic or remotely sexual in any way. In this instance the penis is just a body part. You are showing how subservience to a drug strips a person bare, dehumanizes them to the point of being less than an animal. When in-taking a chemical is the sole reason for your existence you must begin to feel like a collection of body parts and fluids, like just a pathway in the journey of that chemical.

"Black Heroin" supplies such a bounty of imagery and ideas that I fear my critique may be as jumbled and haphazard as the painting. To sum up, this painting attacks in a visceral way while never insulting our intelligence. Over the years you have refined your technique, but even in 1994 your style impressed with it's proficiency and feverish mix of horror, personal revelation, and pop culture paraphernalia. Masterpiece is a word that rarely finds it's way into my vocabulary. Mr. Connett you have created a masterpiece.