In The South

It is tradition on New Years Day to eat
1) Black Eyed Peas (for good luck throughout the year)
2) Collard Greens (for good money throughout the year)
Of course, in the South, it's also tradition to throw in pigs feet or bacon or some other bit of carcus.
When it comes to functions or events I don't usually make the vegetarian alternative of the same dish - I make something entirely different.
But on New Years you better believe I'm eating for luck and money!
So, tonight, two crockpots. A huge one for the meateaters, and a little one for the vegetarians. *grin*

And a raised glass all around, wherever you may be!

Yesterday

Yesterday I worked on a 24x24" that I ended up unhappy with.
I woke, this morning, and after rubbing my eyes stared at it in horror.
It's been a long time since I've been so incredibly unhappy with a work.
And the irony is I was so excited for this piece because the drawing (foundation of a good painting) was phenomonal.

I think it was due.
A bad work.
It's related to the 'bam' I mentioned earlier.
The four pieces I had done before this one I was really happy with.
So I think I just need to change/adjust something about the way I'm painting now.

But what, but what?
*rabbit nose*

*heads to lab*
*dones white coat*
*looks for goggles*

Michelangelo

I bought a book on Michelangelo.
A beautiful, beautiful book with beautiful, beautiful photos.

Oh!

I'm at the point with my work where I have to jump up a level. I was talking to my sister on the phone about it. About how you're working away and them - BAM. You've jumped up a level without realising. Well, I'm at that point now. I need a BAM. I need to jump up. I think God is sleeping with the games controller in his hand.

Come on, God!
*waves*
I'm down here!

Somebody poke him for me, will you?
I need to be....more.

The New Year

I am excited for it.
Tremendously.
I thought about going out and spending it with some friends, which would be nice.
But then I thought of a few beautiful rituals to do here at home, too.
Which would also be nice.
I do know we have a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge, a chocolate-chip sherry roll I made this morning in the freezer, art supplies all around, a warm lounge, dancing room and dancing music, good movies, and a comfy bed.
All the makings of magic.
Full hearts.
Wishes.
Dreams.
Ability.
Skill.
Laughter.
Brilliance.
Life.

Tonight - before midnight! - I have to update my sites. I'm not sure how long they will take. But I wanted to have them done before the new year.

And...OH!
So many things. A list to write of so many full, beautiful, promising New Years things.

2008.
I cannot wait.
And I have been waiting for you.

Evolution

I really like the way that I am evolving as an artist.
And I don't mean the way my work is looking, I mean my work ethic of late.
And the way that my spirit has changed accordingly alongside it.
I go to bed thinking about art, I dream of it, and when I wake my fingers start moving before my brain does.
It's a lovely feeling.
Finally.
After years.
To have the artist in my body start moving before the woman in me does.

Oh but you know....

I did take a photo of the aforementioned painting as it balanced on my lily-white, wobbly knees on the way to it's new home!
I used my phone which has an absolutely worthless camera on it.
But at least I have some sort of outline I can show y'all as soon as I can afford to send it from my phone to my email.

*nods*

*frustrated scream*

I did a painting today but I gave it to it's owner before I took a photo!
So I have no record of it.
It feels so odd.
I can't decide if it feels like I've worked hard all day and have nothing to show for it, or if it feels like I worked hard all day and something has blown away in the wind and I am free.

Such oddities.

I photograph EVERY painting.

I was too rushed to remember!
And too stupid.

But, on a plus side, I *was* smart enough to order pizza for dinner.
*runs off to eat it*

Racing Tim Burton

So Tim Burton is supposed to be doing his take on 'Alice In Wonderland' and it is supposed to come out in 2009. Can you think of a better person to do it? NO! Well. Yes! ME.

You see I was going to do an 'Alice In Wonderland' show myself but now if I wait on it and don't do it immediately everybody will think I'm just trying to jump on the media bandwagon and copy Burton (when it comes out)

Soooooo!
I think I will have to get that series done in 2008, BEFORE the movie comes out, so people can't claim that's where I drew my inspiration from.

The credit goes solely to Carroll!

So that's the plan, stan.
On top of a very VERY long list (fairy tales included) I had better get cracking.
Full steam ahead for the New Year.

Babies Don't Have Teeth.

No, seriously. They don't. They have to grow them in themselves, after they've been born and everything!
They also don't have moustaches.
I don't know why people rave about babies so much when they don't have moustaches.
I think even *I* could grow one in. And I have teeth.


MmmMMMmmm. Babies.

Cyget Committee

Hmmm.

Hmmm.
It is Sunday, December 23rd and there is a strange man asleep on my couch.
And there are two strangers asleep upstairs in the bedroom. They all look like pretty groovy people so I suppose I shall let them stay. Hopefully I'll find out who they are when they wake for breakfast, if I'm still hanging out.

To avoid noise elsewhere I have been in my studio all morning, tidying and sorting. I love this room. Now I get to paint a portrait that makes me smile. Much excited!

So I should shuffle on and get it done.
More soon.
xxxS.

Letter To Hermione

The Prettiest Girl In Texas.

Made Yummies.

Today.

Today I stood in dog poop.
I don't know why it makes me so happy.
My lovely friend Linda cleaned it off with a hose-pipe.
And I'm still giggling, this evening.

Reigning it in.

With the exception of my fairy tales series, I haven't been happy with any of my large works of late.
I'm currently working on two small commission pieces and my mind is spinning in excitement. I'm digging the size. It's not just the painting...I can add more on. I can make little stages. I can have little drawstrings. I can have each work behind curtains.

I think I'm going to reign my painting size in. Experiment with small and the cool things I can do surrounding small works.

I can't wait until I can look at different materials to incorporate.
I will be window shopping for awhile, but I'm very excited to do so.

I have all of my 8x8's to work on after Christmas.
And now I have a kazillion spinning ideas for other smaller works.

I think - in terms of art - I am *really* looking forward to next year.

Deepak Chopra Makes Comics

How did I not know this until now?!
Seriously.
Deepak has teamed up with Virgin Comics to create new stories and legends involving eastern philosophies. Many of the Indian Gods and Goddesses are about to become superheroes and their tales will be available to any comic book reader or avid fan.
In a time where many countries are just...melting pots...I think this is long overdue.
Deepak's son is the main writer/illustrator I believe.
I watched a small doco last night and in it Deepak said he used to tell his son tales before he went to bed but always leave him at a a cliffhanger. He would say to his kid 'dream up the ending'. Sure enough, the next day, his son would finish the tale for him.

Golly Gee, I love everything about this venture!

Sick.

Pink. My hair is pink. I thought it was red but really it's pink in a terrible/beautiful disguise.
Sick. I'm sick as a dog. I have been for days. Not cool, not cool, not cool.
I am behind in my work.
Touch me, I'm so hot I'll burn you.
Luckily my dreams have been half asleep, half awake. They all make for good inspiration. My fingers are starting to itch.
Floaty. I listen to floaty music and pretend I am well. If the music is floaty then my mind is less crazy, the weak limbs more apt, the foggy okay. That is what floaty music does for you. It gives an even playing field.

Home Depot.
I have to go there.
I have to get stuff.
So sick, so ill.
I shan't breathe on anyone.
I shall be quick.
Maybe if I take my ipod - with floaty powers combined - I shall float over the isles and catch nobodies eye. It would make the purchase cheaper, as well. But then that's just between you and me. ;)

Bugger.

I was hoping that it was illness making sawing this wood hard.
I was hoping I was just weak.
That would be better than a blunt blade.
But no!
The blade is most very, very blunt.
I wonder how much a new one costs? I imagine not very much but 'not very much' I already know is too much for me.
Oh, curses!
Blunt, blunt curses!
I am pissed.
I crawled out of my deathbed to work in my studio today and apparently my studio doesn't want me.

I Wish.

I wish many things.
I wish I had worked harder on my art this year.
I wish I had more works to show for my time.
I wish I had better works to show for my time.

But right *now* I wish I were able to work on the series (three in the making) that I want without guilt.

Earlier this year I started a fairy tales series but it lays abandoned due to poverty (I can't very well keep working on big pieces for the future instead of working on small sale pieces for the now)

I have the circus people series I want to start (but now christmas obligations are standing in the way of launching that)

And mostly...mostly...I have an incredible broken unicorn series that I long to create which would not only reflect beautiful things to the viewers but would really help me explore some territory I long to explore.

But how can I start that when there are bills to pay and gifts to make?
I need to be working on so many other things.

I wish I didn't have to worry about selling works (the broken unicorn series I cannot imagine in any alabama living room) so that I could delve into what I want. I feel very limited in learning when I have to pull back like this.

Am I self obsessed and ranting right now?
Oh, yes, I am.
*sigh*

So I'm off.
To workout.
And to mull over the things I cannot touch in my head.
And then to work on the things I must I right now.

*salutes her fellow artists*
*exits*

The von Guericke & Leibniz Skeleton

The Most Beautiful.

To me the fractured mess of tangled bones and awestruck hope/confusion is the most lonely and beautiful unicorn I've come across.

***

As is usual with such brutes, its posterior parts were very low and its head raised. Its forehead bore a horn nearly five ells long, as thick as a man's thigh but gradually tapering. Because of the ignorance and carelessness of the diggers, the skeleton was broken and extracted in pieces. However, the horn, which was attached to the head, several ribs, and the backbone were brought to the abbess of the town.
The fact that the horn was attached to a fragment of bone was one of the strongest points in favor of the interpretation that this was indeed a unicorn skeleton.

To modern eyes, Leibniz's unicorn looks preposterous. There are obvious problems with the skeleton as assembled, beginning with the glaring lack of hind legs and the resulting extreme slope of the backbone, which juts at a 45 degree angle from the skull so that the tailbone rests directly on the ground. More subtly, the bones are put together wrong, with the spinal column backward so that the skull and neck vertebrae are attached to the tail end. Finally, the bones come from more than one kind of animal. The skeleton in the drawing has since been identified as a mix of rhinoceros and mammoth bones. The unicorn's horn is likely to be a young mammoth's tusk: These long teeth are straight and grow out of the jawbone, thus explaining the bone fragment at the base of the "unicorn horn."


***

I love it.

Kitchen Art

'Tis the season, afterall.

Vegan rolls and egg-free sugar cookies for all.

Sprinkles.

Running Shoes

I love my running shoes.
As I sat cross-legged on the floor just now and laced them up, they reminded me of ballet shoes.
For I dance and leap and bound in them.
Or at least...my soul does.
We skip.
And they are soft and well worn and they are fading.
Like the best loved anything.

And just...

Oh.
I love my beat up running shoes.
They are my favourite beasts.

Wed.Nes.Day.

Siblings.

I love my siblings.
I do.

You can hit by brother on the head with a newspaper and and he won't say anything.
Two times. Three times! Three times you can hit him and then he'll say hello. But he will never tell you who his girlfriend is.
He taught me the person who got the ice-cream out has to put it away. Unless that person was him, in which case the last person to touch it has to put it away.

My eldest sister knows everybody's birthday and anniversarys. Even the people she hasn't met yet. And she tells the *cutest* jokes you ever will find, so cute that you'll smile even if you don't want to.
She taught me my left from right in our little bitty bathroom and how to eat my carrots (so that I could leave the table each night)

My other sister will tear your head off if you even look in her direction with a newspaper. And then she'll love you so much she'll tattoo you on her body. She'll give you enough street smarts to have you walking through three lifetimes.
She taught me that all the highlighters in the world wouldn't get me through school c. She was right, they didn't. She did.

If the internet weren't so lame I'd post a photo of my beautiful siblings.
But the internet is kinda lame.
So you'll just have to imagine how great they all are.
Oh and imagine pink polka dot bows on their heads! Because I think that will make them mad.

Much Less

I'm much less of a cranky pants today.
I swear it to be true.
The year is coming to an end...no time to be grumpy.

I got up and had a fabulous run at the park with my buddy.
Then I came home and cut up 10 panels.
And epoxied them.
Now I am sawing new wood and making a new canvas for a surprise gift for my friend (and his wife) when he gets back from Egypt.
I plan on finishing a piece I started last week today.
I plan on sanding/priming 9 little canvases.
I plan on drawing up two gifts.
And I'm about to step out and go to the health food store.

Much less cranky.

Plus a beautiful woman was super-duper nice to me.
And I smell like Japanese Cherry Blossom.

Soooo...
you know.
What could be wrong?

*hug*

Other Times.

I can't afford my pond scum shakes anymore.
They're not even that expensive.
No, seriously...like $30 for a huge tub of powder that would last all month.
But I am poor.
You know I can't afford vegetables either.
I can't even afford gum!
I can afford 50 cent candy bars, of course.
And I refuse to do that to my body.
Blah.

Sometimes being an artist is amazing.
Other times it's just shit.

It's 3.31pm on Monday.
I've been proactive all day.
Now, because I can and because it's easy, I'm going to damned bed.

Maybe things will be better when I wake.

Or maybe, just *maybe*, things will still be miserable.
*squinty eyes*

Wizardry.

I create white with my finger tips.



Meh.
My head hurts.

S T O P . P R E S S .

I FOUND THE FRICKING WOMBLES ON YOUTUBE!
*gasp*





Okay, carry on now.

*gurgle*

Sunday night.
Waiting for paint to dry.
I am tired and drained.
I am a cranky pants tonight.

Sunday.

Overcast.
Cold.
Space heater.
Incense.
Smoke curls.
Dim natural light.
Bright lamp.
Busy hands.
Bob Dylan.
Coldplay.
Diet coke.
Rice crackers.
Soft, clean hair.
Moving lips.
Swaying hips.
Dancing feet.
Glowing.
Growing.
Bright inner lamp.
Dragons and fairytales.
Epoxy and wood.
And on.
And on.
Twisting and turning.
Church.

Best Morning.

Don't care I'm out of epoxy.
Don't care I'm filthy (and I am).
Don't care that the dishes are filthy (and they are).
Just care about painting.
Blasting music.
Singing.
Dancing.
PAINTING.

(okayIliedI'mstressedbecauseI'mgoingouttonightwithagirlfriendtohitthepubsandI
reallyhavetoboilupabathandgetcleanplusIreallywantedtobakesomebreadsoIreally
havetodomydishesplusIpromisedI'dgoouttodinnerwithsomeoneelsesoI'mmajorlyout
oftimeandIreallyjustwanttoworkonthispiece)

Yes!
Fabulous morning.

Oh but BEST news.
One of my sisters emailed.
I'm going to run off and with her and her crew in the future and make crazy rad creations all over the show. Grant money willing.

*beam*

And I have undeniable faith in all things magical, so it's just gonna be.
Rock On.

Yes & I Love Her

My brilliant, magical, friend made this.



Yes & I love her.

Oh No!

It's Black Friday and I just ran out of epoxy.
*bites nails in fear*
I'm going to sit up the squirrel tree and hope God sees fit to throw a tube down to me.
*hikes up skirt*
*gets climbing*

Frames.

I'm in meh studio!
Making frames!

What A Shame...

what a shame, what a shame, what a mighty fine shame!

p i n e . h e a r t .

It's a shame to cut it! For three reasons!

1) These frames were already premade. But due to poverty I tore them down to reconstruct several more out of them (I believe I'm doubling the amount)

2) Pine Heart isn't made anymore. It's from the biiiig old pines, the very centre of them. Very condensed and heavy wood that smells delicious. It seems criminal cutting it up (although I did rescue all this from the side of the road)

3) It HURTS. The red splotches on my hands below? Blisters!






Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

Commission Piece

Yesterday....

I did it.
I escaped.

Only interrupted once by a loud family trekking through the woods.
"what is she doing?"
"I think she is sketching"
"I want to see"
"Leave her alone"

Other than that one man and his dog, playing in the distance.
Freedom echoing off freedom.
Leaves trickling down my back.
Beauty almost everywhere.

Falls Off Seat Laughing.

My mother wrote me. She called me a poet-artist. I misread and thought she wrote poot-artist.

*giggles*

That's funny, you see.

Upside Down

I tried to go back to bed after my workout. No dice. On an hour of sleep I lie upside on my studio floor, sunlight glistening and beaming, leaf shadows dancing on my face. The perfect music choice swims over me and I study the ceiling. It's a perfect rectangle. No, wait...if it were a perfect rectangle I wouldn't have noticed it. It must be different. A different, perfect rectangle. There is space for three lightbulbs up there, in the land of lightbulb fixings. I only have two. I must remember to fix this.
I wait for energy to hit my body. Currently my stomach is just an anxious knot of ick. The same knot I've had for days. I know I ought to be painting, I mean *really* painting. I hope to today. I just get so...knotted. Maybe I should spend the day doing construction instead. But oh, how I miss the paint. I will paint. But not right now. Not in the daylight. I will paint late into the night, instead. When the world is asleep and it's okay to be a knot. But not in the daylight. Not in the wake. Today is so beautiful I need to get out. I need to go here:



But there is two hours away and gas prices are ridiculous. Still...maybe I can go closer. To another rock, only an hour away. Maybe I can find the same sun, only setting, and maybe I can find another rock, only larger, and maybe I can stand up on it and scream. Scream until the tension is gone. Scream until wrong is made right.
It's feasible.
Nature.
Nature is my saviour, it always has been.
Maybe I will find a rock to bring home and polish whenever I need to breathe.
Maybe I will go on a treasure hunt.

*looks at watch*

It's only 9.39am.
Time enough still to run away.

*looks down into - appropriately green - soy milk and pond scum shake*

Yes.
Nature has always been my saviour.
I ought to get dressed and go.
Maybe even take my easel and paints.
Enough food to grill on a fire come evening.
Hit the road running and come back...cleansed.

Come on wallet...give me the funding to go....

Napoleon...

Turns over in his grave.
At 3.07am, this stinking artist is clean.

Cigarettes.

Speaking of stereotypes...

I crave cigarettes.
I do.
I'm not a smoker but I crave them in every way.
I crave the smell of them.
I crave them in stressful moments.
I crave them in dark alleyways when I step out of the pub.
I *even* crave them as an 'artist'.

The petrol station down the road sells candy cigrarettes.
I know, I've seen them.

I propose this to myself.
I propose that I have a candy cigarette, three times a day, until the cravings go away.
Silly, silly.
I should even wear a beret.
And a fake moustache.
And carry my easel around.

But nevertheless...

*puts on raincoat*
*toddles off to the petrol station*

It's better than lung cancer and feeds into my wonk.

I Am An Artist. Therefore I Stink.

Alright. A stereotypical artist is much like a stereotypical hippie. I'm afraid I know this to be true. In fact I've even had people scream in delight when they see my work; "oh! you're *not* just a hippie with a paintbrush!" (insert my pained expression)

But sometimes...
Maybe sometimes....
This stereotype is correct (enter my day off).

My friend and I workout every morning. I get up at 5.15 and we do over 10 miles at the track. We haven't had a day off in over two weeks...until today, that is, where we both agree to sleep in. Delicious!

I plan to sleep until noon but in fact wake up at 7.30. I roll out of bed and stumble into my studio, warmed by my little space heater and the rising sun. I yawn, stretch, sit my naked butt down to paint and light a stick of incense. I play my music, sing and paint, sing and paint. At 10 I stop and run back to bed, craving company. Unsleepy I simply snuggle quietly and then flick on the TV to watch the first half of 'How To Draw A Bunny'. It is good, I enjoy it, but then craving a freak moment of silence I flick it off and lay around for a bit, thinking. Then I get up again.

Back to painting! It's not going smashingly well, I'm taking my time with it, but it's my day off and I feel gooood. I feel SO GOOD! By now it's early afternoon and I realise...I stink. Well...Maybe I don't stink but I sure need a wash. Iyeee! My hair is *greasy*. If I lick my lips I taste salt. Unfortunately washing for me doesn't involve jumping in the shower. Along with our plumbing downstairs being wonky right now we never turned the gas on when we moved in. In the summer it's fine...I can handle a cold shower. But in the winter? Or *now*? When it's cold? Bleurgh. I think of the effort of boiling up a bath and weigh it with the amount of days I've gone without properly getting clean. Hmmmm. I know what *should* win. But...it isn't winning. I throw on some clothes and go grocery shopping, casting evil glares at the bathroom on my way out.

Soy milk.
Poppyseeds.
Toilet Paper. (note: not doc leaves)

I come home.
I go back to my studio.
I dabble with my painting (carefree, not stressfully).
I play musicals and belt out the lyrics I love the most.
I snack on some marinaded tofu I made two days prior.
I download my yoga routine after finally finding it online.
I find a bee in my studio, catch it, take it outside and set it free.
I get back to painting.

People come over for a bit.
They leave.

I laze around in day-off glee and watch some TV.
Then we order a pizza (for shame!).
I come back to my studio and sing some more, pretend to paint (but don't) and write to some people online.
All is going well until I push my hair back out of my face.
Bleurgh!
The grease.
I come to the sinking suspicion that I ought to boil up a bath.
And then I come to the stunning realisation that I have been a greasy-bum-artist, allllll day long.
I can argue, though, that my hot water remains non-existant because I'm trying to survive by painting...a *direct* link from dirt to art. And that's not shameful. It would be nice if it were more tragic or more romantic. But...eh...it's simply life.

My thoughts of bathing are interrupted by the doorbell.
Pizza!
I munch on my vegetarian pieces as I watch the second half of my Ray Johnson doco.
Nice.
It ends and I come back to my studio.
I debate burning more incense.
I switch my music.
I sing just as loudly.
I try to ignore my greasy hair once more.
I glance at the clock.
12am?!
How did this happen?
My day off is fading. *wails*
I have to be up at 5.15. *wails louder*
I'm DIRTY!
Iyeee.

And now...
now I have to figure out if I want to boil the kettle to wash the pots so I can boil up the pots to run a bath...or if I want to go to bed the dirty, stinking artist that I am.

"Dear Josephine: I will be arriving home in three days. Don't bathe."
Napoleon would still love me.

*throws hands up in the air*

You know if I shaved my head...it would *still* be artistic...and I wouldn't have to worry about said problem...

I'm

working again.
You can't keep a good man down.

Oh, Yes.

I do not want an Iguana anymore, Sam I Am.
Suggestions for the *enormous* aquarium I inherited are now welcome.

I Am Desperately

Looking forward to this this weekend:



I am, I am.
Also, tonight I am watching 'How To Draw A Bunny' which I received in the mail today.

Maybe both will jolt me out of my ick.

Ick.
Lickity split.
*skulks out*

No Fair, No Fair!

MY SISTER IS GOING TO A SPLIT ENZ CONCERT.
I don't lie.
*squinty eyes*
I die of jealousy.
ROAR!

I was just telling a friend a few weeks ago that I adore Neil Finn like he adores Bruce Springsteen. And he likes Springsteen like...oh, er...I dunno....like flies like stuff. Yeah. 'Cos they're on everything.

I digress.
MY SISTER IS GOING TO A SPLIT ENZ CONCERT AND SHE RECENTLY WENT TO A CROWDED HOUSE ONE.

Gnar!
The song that has been on repeat for me lately, btw, is this one.
So TK, if you're reading....



I love you!
*gives you the evils*
xxxS.

The Doorway To My Place

Er.

Not happy with my last few pieces.
Not happy with myself.

Positive Affirmation

All the things I've liked to deny because they were either too trendy or too daggy, I own now. Like positive affirmation. I believe in the beautiful things, like crystal formations in water and breathing the word 'love' into your bloodstream. It makes sense. The beautiful things make sense. Stretching makes sense.
Likewise I believe in mind over matter and reading positive affirmations out of the corner of your eye.
Which is why today I will be doctoring up my studio with the beautiful things. The things *I* love and then the things that make sense...like the words 'Tomorrow Will Be Stellar" painted on my door.

Daggy, yes.
But...right.

I'm not too afraid to own it.
To recycle.
To make sure I'm getting enough protein.
To sing in public.
To stroke Buddha's head and to cross my chest.

These things, these things, these inners we shout down...well, today I shout them up.
And out.

Because I love you I whisper into you while you sleep.
And I hang flowers from the ceiling for you to wake by.

Tomorrow shall be stellar.
And today...today just makes me smile.
Grin.
Goofy, loopy grins.

Falling Leaves.

b e e n . s i t t i n g .

Been sitting in this room.
This room of falling leaves.
You think they fall from the sky but they fall from the ceiling too.
Puddles and bunches and piles to scrunch on.
Scranch in.
Screech through.
My feet, nimble and quick, pretending to be gladiators, stormers, warners.
Pretending to be God's dooming finger.
I want to leave but I am caught, transfixed.
Like in a snowglobe, dancing, moving, pieces falling, but stuck.
And so I carve.
And smile.
And dance.
Carve carve carve this room, womb, out of rock.
On the side of a cliff.
Overlooking you.
Overlooking the trees, the falling leaves.
Bit by bit as things fall I place.
On the wall, in the hall, on the scent, slightly bent.
Building my studio like I am building the world.
And all the birds can do is dance with glee and look at me.
Straw in their beaks and a glint in their eye.
They know we are the same.
I throw glitter string out the window and borrow a sparkle from their soul.
Until they move forward and so do I.
Winter is coming, but look!
Look at this home I build.

Perfect Circle.

Somebody did something special for me today.
Something that made my jaw drop to the ground.
I am going to do something amazing for them in return, I swear it, but in the meantime I could only think to send them this (exactly how I feel)



And then I marvelled. Because the clip is so beautiful and I had never seen it before (I only knew the song and how perfectly it fit this situation). And I marvelled again because last week I decided my series of 10 8x8's will be 'circus' pieces. And this video is perfect for that. And some of Merchant's other videos, too. And I just thought....what a perfect circle. How perfectly my generous friend completed this circuit.

I started with poverty and the idea of circus life. I lost it with stress, distraction and anxiety. She stepped in with generousity and love. And it brought me right back to the circus.

Life...it flickers, you know?
Sunshine through the tree leaves.
Wolves racing in the night.

Also Watched

Oh!
I also watched 'Forgotten Silver'.
Which I thought was a very odd thing for Mister Jackson to do.

Alive

I wrote a big speal about the passing of time and the wonderful things of that and of now.
Then I deleted it.

All I need to say is...it feels great to be alive lately.
Passion is great.

Spencer Tunick, Take A Bow

About a week ago I watched 'Naked States' - a documentary on Spencer Tunick and his art project (photographing nudes across America). This morning I watched 'Naked World' - a documentary on Tunick photographing nudes across the world.

Both of the films - well, I adored them.
Fabulous.

The second I adored even moreso than the first and I encourage my friends and fellow artists to watch both.

There was a point in 'Naked World' that made me want to cry. In Australia, when Tunick is up on the ladder and realises how many people are coming up behind him. Perfect. So perfect. I think as an artist I just got the importance of that moment. And when people respond to your work like that it's not just about justification of your craft but just about *how many* people you've reached. He must have felt amazing.

Also in 'Naked World' I think it kicked arse that he saved his girlfriend for Antartica. What an absolute honour.

Anyway, I say go rent and watch both.
And be inspired.

For Spencer Tunick's official site, click here.
For the unofficial site, click here.
For 'Naked States', click here.
For 'Naked World', click here.

With love,
S.

See?

See what happens when I stress myself out about workload and cave my head in over it?
I end up in the kitchen baking cookies to incredibly fabulous music.
Did I mean to bake cookies anyway?
Why yes, yes I did. For my friend Linda!
Did I mean to do it today when I'm working on three paintings and 50 trillion canvas constructionings (it's a word if I say it is). No!

But if it's any consolation (constellation) Portishead is HITTING THE SPOT.
I mean *the* spot.
Portishead is exactly what I need to be dancing to and singing right now.

Don't you love when that happens?
Like sitting under an apple tree and having one fall into your lap.
Which is much better than on your head.

Oh dear!
I fear my stress has also made me blather like an inane idiot.
So I shall go back to baking cookies in the kitchen and singing into frosting laden ladels.

'Laden Ladels'...I'm going to *do something* with that.

Oh!
The blather!

*runs off*
*trips*
*gets up and keeps on running*

Ambition

Today I am trying to make 10 small canvases so I can do 10 small pieces to hang in a coffeeshop in town.
Christmas can be a brilliant time for artists but only if their work is out there...mine currently isn't (yikes).
So I'm going to bust butt and try to get these 10 pieces down in the next week.
I'm currently struggling with subject matter or theme but I'll worry about htat *as* I'm cutting and prepping the boards.

As I wrote to a friend in email:

"I'm going to make 10 canvases which - at four sides - is 40 pieces of wood. Not *including* the masonite pieces which will *also* have four sides each. So that's 80 sides of wood to cut @ a cut and a half per piece."

So...
Oooh, eerr.
*gets cracking*

Wish List.

Because I can.
Because maybe if I sell some works I can save some money to start checking these off, one by one.
*nods*

An iguana. $30+
A 2 man sleeping bag. $60
A boxing bag and gloves. $80
A proper TV for the gym. $80-100
Art supplies (always, always)
Some winter workout clothes.

Mmmm.
That's it for now!
What do yooooou wish for?

Untitled.

My Heart Shoots and Whizzes.

Today is Guy Fawkes. I didn't even realise. Of course when I did I was saddened that I failed to remember a holiday that I loved very much back home. I went into the lounge and dismally said "Happy Guy Fawkes Day. I forgot. And I don't even have sparklers" But boy, being boy, promptly says "Your shirt is sparkly". Then he proceeds to pick me up and spin me around and around, whilst making fireworks sounds.

It's like the sun came out on a rainy day!

I think every year I will be the sparkler from now on. Because much laughter and brilliance was had.

And now I'm off to paint!

*whizz*
*pop*
*boom*

HAPPY GUY FAWKES.

Lady In Water

Been busy, been out of touch.
Here is a large work that I have nearly finished.
I'm about 3/4's of a way through another work that goes with it.

With love,
Sarah.

Robert Johnson

Questions.

Questions I answered that were sent to me as part of an assignment.

When was the first time that you remember realizing that you are a creative person?
I don't think I realised personally so much as being told by outsiders. My mother is an artist and ever since a young age if I did something artistic people would tell me I got my talent from her. As I have gotten older I have realised that this is not true, that being 'creative' is something you get only from yourself and not from others.

When did you know that this was what you wanted to do with your life? How did you get started?
I didn't truly start getting passionate about my art until this year. So, in turn, it was this year that I decided an aritst was what I really wanted to be. I started painting because it seemed an impossible road. My life at the time wasn't difficult to me; the papers I were taking in college weren't challenging, nor was my job. It was too easy to 'become' somebody or something, to follow the path. I wanted something much harder to contend with, I wanted a challenge. I think life is about challenges. I think I fell into painting that way - the path was dark and unclear and firey...that appealed to me.

What traits, if any, do you think that creative people have as compared to people who are not creative?
I think creative people, as cliche as it may sound, have the ability to see much more beauty in the ordinary things in life. And also in the darker things. Also I find most artisic types are less judging than the norm...when they see something different in society they are astounded or inspired by it...they are rarely offended because something is different.

Do believe that your training has influenced what you create?
I believe that the people around me and the key figures in my life as I was growing up have influenced my art more than anything else. My art is an extension of myself so it follows that the people who shape me are the people who shape my art. Also the mediums I use bend to each individual work. As far as training...it's a beautiful tool to have someone shine their flashlight down the right road for you, but you are the one who has to decipher the shadows as they appear.

Have you ever felt that your personal expectations have limited your creativity? If so, how have you dealt with this?
Yes. Absolutely. My expectations are high and when I fail to meet them (as I almost always do) it's very easy to get discouraged. Contrary to popular belief, depression doesn't drive every artist. For me the longer it takes to reach my own goals the longer it tends to be that I procrastinate on them and painting one piece alone can become a difficult thing. To deal with this sort of behaviour I have to either run with first inspiration *immediately* or respark my inspiration halfway through by watching/being around other artists or around my subject matter.

Have other people supported or inspired you? Please explain.
My sisters, my brother, my husband. These people have inspired and/or supported me. My mother and father who have shaped me...these two have also shaped my work. The people who have commissioned work from me, taken the time to look at my product and comment on it, or the people who have submitted photos for my online projects...these are the people who inspire me. The people on the street who are visible and real, who I can reach out and touch...these are the people who inspire me.

How have you dealt with any criticism you have gotten because of your creative endeavors?
You just have to shake it off. People like to read their own things into art, and sometimes they just read things wrong. That's okay. As an example I have wonderfully mixed reactions to my project 'share your tears' (an online project which encourages people to take photos of their tears so I can turn them into works of art). The people who understand it understand the beauty that surrounds it and are really touched by it's meaning. The people who don't understand it think that I'm a depressed kid drowning in pain. When those people write me and joke about mixing prozac into my paints or seriously set about trying to 'cheer me up', I have to shrug it off. It's the same with any misunderstandings or criticisms...people are different so you just have to handle the different reactions and keep on going. The best you can do is say 'hey, at least I'm being noticed'.

Do you ever feel that you have to censor your creativity because you don't want to offend anyone?
I do but only because I am trying to sell my work. I live in a very conservative area and what to me may be a beautiful nude is seen as offensive material to a select group. If money didn't come into play I probably wouldn't censor anything for anyone, but in order to make a living and keep painting I do have to censor for my market.

Do you do anything special to get your "creative juices" flowing? Please explain.
I exercise first thing in the morning. It seems so simple but it really helps. By the time I get home I am so full of energy I find it impossible to sit down and waste time online or in front of the TV. It really powers me into working and gets my mind spinning. Also I am very much into singing and dancing and acting the fool. It's a way to loosen up my body. Painting can be a very intense process and also a very lonely one. Sliding down the banister whilst yoddling gives me the...spark and break...I need to keep painting throughout the day. Listening to music that resonates with my emotions also makes me eager to paint and create - a sort of 'me too, pay it forward' type of thing.

Does your work convey a specific emotion or message?
I have many ideas for witty politcal statements or comments on society that I could convey through my work but I never end up painting them. When I get down to it I don't want to shout out about controversial or popular things - I just want to paint. I want to paint the things around me that I see that are beautiful. I want to paint people as they are so that is what I am trying to do. Perhaps you could say my message is simplistic beauty, the beauty in every man of every shape. And I hope that's what people see when they look at my work. I hope they look at my portraits and see past the outer layers of skin/eyes/objects and into something more universal and connecting, into the deeper beauty and being of man.

If you could be any object, what would you be? Why?
I would be a tree. Because they are deep rooted in nature, timeless and ancient, they know all the secrets and still they stretch and grow towards the sky with reckless abandon, leaves dancing and twinkling in the sky. It's beautiful.

What are your words of wisdom for someone starting out in your field?
Experiment. Experiment with everything and never stop moving. Try new mediums and new ideas constantly and don't stop experimenting just because the world is happy with your work. Find your own passion and then build on it, twist it, soak it and drain it. But most importantly, listen to yourself. Do what *you* want to do. Everything will evolve from there.

Studio Light.

New Spandangly.

Lamp.
LampLAMPLamp.
From a flea market in Montgomery.

I love it.
Oh, I love it.

I love my new painting lamp.

I Guess You Had To Be There.

Thursday

I don't have time to but I am starting a new self-portrait alongside my current work.
I'm still working on the fairy tales (tackling three today) and I have commissions and SYTs to do. But I'm throwing a new self-portrait in there because I really feel like I need to.

The last time I had to capture what I was going through was the 'birth series'.

This work is considerably different and is only one piece.

I cannot wait to paint it.

I need to just...get it out.

More when I have it.

S.

I Forgot To Give You This.

The blue bottles are to keep the devil away. I talked to the man who made it, he hunted a long time to find the bottles. Then, to his and his wife's delight, they found out a wine cooler with a blue bottle. Many drinkings.

But back to the devil...

Some people around here used to paint their front doors blue to keep the devil out. You'd sometimes see an entirely unpainted house, except for the front door which was blue.

My house is blue and the door is white. *shifty eyes* How's that for a welcome sign?

Anyway it's Tuesday night and I'm feeling angsty.
I might have to make some 'The Devil And The Blue Door' folkart.

Indeed.
Don't steal that title. I like it.
Ohhhh, okay.
If you're a musician you can make it into a song but you must promise to play it for me.

The Cross Garden

I am too tired and lazy to post all these as photos.
But you really ought to check this out.

One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven

Cahaba

Selma Cemetary