Fever Ballerina.

Sometimes I see the most beautiful things in my mind and they appear as paintings.
I don't paint them though because I do not think boy would like them to be seen by outsiders.
But they make my heart bloom and swell and they make a lopsided grin grow out of nowhere.
I love them, these images.
They are naked love.
They will have to stay on the inside of my head.
Become my skulls wallpaper.
Maybe when I am old and demented they will spill out onto paper.
But until that day...
They're just beautiful.
And they make me smile.

Fever ballerina.

That's all.

The Artists Dream House (in the making)

Boy and I have gone from wanting to buy a house next year (when papers are in order) to *building* a house custom to our needs.

I'm quivering excited inside.
And, turns OUT, with the type of house we'll be building, it may even be the cheapest option! *gasp*

So, rough plans (which will change constantly, I'm sure)

THE HOUSE.
LARGE warehouse type building. No rooms. Funky attributes like bottles cemented into the walls to let in light (alongside the windows)
A courtyard of types so the cats can go outside without going *outside* and so we can walk around naked and also have a veggie garden protected from the outside critters.
Sunken beds, that is beds built into the floors so bed level is floor level. I'm thinking we'll need three large beds, one for us, two others for friends and family.
Concrete floors. If not hardwood but I'd prefer concrete because I want to put a fountain in the front center of our floor plan.
Mmmm.
We'll need lounge, kitchen, our bed, bathroom, guest beds, and display areas. All these in the one big warehouse. Bathroom the exception, may have separate back area for bathroom and laundry.
Everything else OPEN. With curtains to circle guest beds when needed.
Funky sculptures and stuff as we make them.
Brilliant colours inside.
Tin roof.
Fire places.

STUDIOS.
We will build two separate studios which you can get to from the house via walkways.
One for him and one for me.

Annnnnd.....
that's where we are at so far.
Our savings are zilch and our credit is non-existant.
HOWEVER....we know people in the business (real estate agents, people in construction and a guy who does projects for $20,000 or less)and we also have ties to the 'miracle worker' (a person who makes loans possible for people of our status)

We will want land in the country, I suspect. But also close to town.

I'm excited dreaming.
Boy is excited dreaming, too.

It'll just look like a big shed on the outside, no doubt, but inside will be *crazy* funkorama. And tailored exactly to our needs.

We weren't sure if we wanted to stay in the South or not but we have both decided that - alongside being only two hours away from major cities - we can 1) handle it if our house is our dream house 2) can rent it out if we leave the country/state.

Anyway I'm off to dream and look at stuff!

S.

Studio Clock!

I saw this clock online and really wanted it, so my beautiful friend Lisa bought it for my birthday.

I think it's the *perfect* studio clock.

I think at 3am when I glance up at it I'll just giggle.
*nods head*



Absolutely!

Anyway I'm off to cook brown rice and fake meat strips.
MmMMMmmmM.
Fake meat.

Love!
xxxS.

p.s: my sisters read my blog. If you had *any* idea how undeniably cool my big sisters are, you'd be jealous. ;)

RoadTrip Art.

Some work I did on the road (and some I finished at home)
Birthday trip was STELLAR!
Soooo glad to have gone.
But more on that later, when I speak of art retreats!

In the meantime,

Hmmm. Not Sure.

Not sure about today's works.
not sure about backgrounds so they sit unfinished.

I shall hang them on my wall and think about it, whilst moving on with the next project.

*nods head*

The Difference of a Year.

One year ago....



Today....

I Feel It Is My Duty.

To buy the entire anti-panty collection....

Click Here

....and turn them into coasters.

Fever Does Not A Carpenter Make.

Oh my.
I just ruined the Lypsie would via a very silly mistake.
Fever does not a carpenter make.
I guess this also renders my last post redundant.

And I've been bitten on my thigh by something.

Those beasts!

I should have stuck with telly and drinks today, golly gee.

It Was to be Painted.

I have a beautiful muse-like presence in my life. I quite wanted to paint her and she shyly sent me photos.

It was four am when I stood in the middle of all of my work and decided I must paint her immediately, because inspiration knocked. But then...I went to cut the wood...and none.

Why can't the stores adhere to my artist-like hours? Sadly I packed it in for the night.

The next day I had errands to run and then an appointment to make. Glancing at my watch my heart got sadder and sadder as I realised I could not make it back across town to the hardware store. Then my appointment ran long and I did not get home until after 7. The store shut at 9 but I had no way of making it there. Despair!

Then...then I was out and do you know what I found? 1x. A pile of 1x in great condition, some ends with barcodes still on. Somebody had bought a pile of wood for a project, used what they needed, and thrown the scraps out on the road. A sunbeam streams through. I jump out of the car and run over. Lypsie wood. I smile all the way home.

That night (last night) I fall ill. I sit for one minute before making dinner and then I wake, this morning, in bed. I don't know what happened. And then this morning the fever. I think 'if you can do anything, just paint what you have...don't build anything, muse painting shall have to wait.'

Then...CRACK. Thunder. Lightning. The computers must be turned off, which means I cannot paint afterall.

A wave of sweet storm air. My head clears a little. No way to paint so I must build.

Ahhhh, yes. The foundation for my muse. With the Lypsie wood. Just enough gathered.

This painting just has to get done, no?
At the time I finish sawing the last piece the clouds clear.
I load up my browser.
And run to her photos.

Words Words Words

I have the burning sensation to write text all over my paintings. Or at least..partly over.

I'm an ex-poet.

I fear the poet is coming back!

I just....I want to scribble *more*. And in places for it to be read. Really read. I always read text on a painting.

And I have so much to scribble.

But when is the line crossed from scribbling to graffitting?

I'm not sure.

Maybe I must write so tiny. So tiny you wouldn't know unless nose-to-nose.

Maybe I should do that.

Secrets in the work.

Secrets work.

Secret secrets.

Yes.
I like that.
The secret soul that leaks.

Untitled.

Hmmm. What?

When people used to fall ill, it was suggested they either go to the countryside or the oceanside to recuperate.

Whatever happened to that sparkly idea, hmmm?

Creating the World you Live in.

Day before last a friend sent me Fairy Dust in the mail. Magical, no?
Yesterday another friend send me the planets and stars, new myths and old legends. Beautiful.

There was also another little beautiful cycle going on....A beautiful idea (SYTs) lead to a beautiful photo being submitted, led to a beautiful painting, led to a beautiful thank-you note. Which, of course, leaves me inspired to paint beautiful things today.

I really like to believe the world is what you make it.
I *do* believe in karma.
I do believe in beauty.

So I think...if I can just make my paintings more beautiful, put more beauty into the universe, then - naturally - more beautiful things will happen in general.

I don't want to believe in the villain, standing under my balloon with an evil pin. Of course, reality also suggest this exists. So you know what you ought to do should the villian appear? You ought to kiss him and hold his hand and make him beautiful too.

Because that's what makes the sun come out.
And with the sun comes the flowers and trees.
From the flowers and trees come paint and wood.
And from paint and wood comes beautiful paintings.

And that's where my life should be stepping in.


More soon.
xxxS.

Lyvvie.

Lyvvie hasn't seen my neck tattoo?

It looks like this:



I also have a small art palette on the side of my heel.




A lyre on the inside of my wrist.




And the Southern Cross on my foot.

Happy Birthday Share Your Tears!

Have this weird feeling inside.
Like life is beautiful.
Weird only in the sense that I thought I already knew that.
But there is a warmth. Who knows what it comes from. Acceptance? Peace? Closure?
I feel like something is really right.
And the warmth glows more beautifully than beautiful ever did.

I've been sawing wood, building frames.
I got another commission today! I am much excited, the subject is beautiful.
And I have two works to paint for Australia and a work to paint for Chicago.
I am cutting and sawing and getting them all ready.

Then I have some paintings to do for my love.

And then...then I have some paintings to do for my *love*. For the love of it. For the love. The photos have been selected and I am building the boxes tonight. From the moment I decided to paint today amazing music sings of it's own accord in my head.

I hope to paint two impressive works tomorrow.
Impressive to me.
For it is my opinion I care about on this.

And I feel...with the warmth....I may do it.

In less waffly, more exciting news....SHARE YOUR TEARS TURNED ONE TODAY!
Very exciting.
I *must* get onto finding a way to make t-shirts for it.
I want, I want, I do.

The Crayon Project.

I found beautiful, delicious, wonderful crayon cushions.
Crayons make my heart sing.
I have a crayon t-shirt and a crayon in my neck tattoo.
Anyway at first I bought them for my room.
But then as I gazed overly-lovingly at them I thought 'they'd be fun up a tree'.
Then I thought 'they'd be fun in a garden'
Then I thought 'they'd be fun halfway up a lamp post'
And then I thought of the travelling gnome.
And I thought 'crayons ought to travel too, no fair!'

and so I have come to the conclusion...

I must get more crayon cushions.
Travel crayon cushions.
And I must have at least 1 with me in the car at all times (preferably 5)
And whenever there is a chance to place them somewhere dandy, I shall pull over and place them and then take a photo.

Maybe I shall even make the crayon blog.
OoooHHhhHHhhhhh because they are *SO* pretty.

I am much looking forward to it.
*nods head*

Hoorah!

It's Sandwich Making Day.

I remember my mother at the beginning of the school year buying a kazillion sandwich making supplies and then proceeding to make a kazillion sandwiches. She'd wrap each in wax paper and then initial them with mine or my siblings initials. From there they went to the freezer and each morning before school we'd fish around in that deep chest freezer and yank out a sandwich with our initial on it.

Today I have decided to write a large list of all the paintings I have to do. I need to survey my wood supplies and, having enough, I need to start cutting pieces to size. Then I need to prime them, coat them, and organise compositions. From there I draw each work up.

Drawing up a work (the foundation of painting) is - to me - the hardest part of it all.

Then I shall stack them all neatly on one of my workbenches. a.k.a the freezer.

What's that? *that's* sandwich making day in the art world. Whenever I'm hungry to paint all I have to do is reach in and grab a canvas, already initialed and ready to go.



Aside from this today is chocolate cookies, clean damp hair, smooth skin and beautiful music day.
That's what today is.

*runs off to compile list of sandwiches*

Cool. Uncool.

I was cleaning up some things in my studio when I found a stack of framed prints I bought for cheap somewhere. I didn't buy them for the prints, of course, I bought them for the frames and glass. I was going to empty them, paint to size, and use them for my watercolours.

Well, now that I don't paint on paper that's no longer really applicable. But then I thought COOL...Absorbent Ground can be painted on anything (theoretically) so I can paint it on top of the glass and then paint my paintings on top of that.
About three seconds later I thought UNCOOL....imagine someone trying to hang their painting, dropping it, and smashing their artwork to smithereens. Who wants to pay hundreds of dollars for splintered glass?

I suppose I can easily paint on wood and snap the wood into the back of the frames.
But then again I'm loving the boxed frames I've been doing.

I guess I'll just save the frames for another rainy day.

As Way of Explanation.

Jukebox - Ani DiFranco

in the jukebox of her memory
the list of names flips by and stops
and she closes her eyes
and smiles as the record drops
then she drinks herself up and out of her kitchen chair
and she dances out of time
as slow as she can sway
as long as she can say
this dance is mine
this dance is mine

her hair bears silent witness
to the passing of time
tattoos like mile markers
map the distance she has gone
winning some, losing some
but she says my sister still calls every sunday night
after the rates go down
and i still can never manage to say anything right
and my whole life blew up
and now its all coming down

she says, leave me alone
tonight i just wanna stay home
she fills the pot with water
and she drops in the bone
she says, i've got a darkness that i have to feed
i got a sadness that grows up around like a weed
and i'm not hurting anyone
i'm just spiraling in
and then she closes her eyes
and hears the song begin again

she appreciates the phone calls
the consoling cards and such
she appreciates all the people
who come by and try to pull her back in touch
they try to hold the lid down tightly
and they try to shake well
but the oil and water
they just wanna separate themselves

she drinks herself up and out of her kitchen chair
and she dances out of time
as slow as she can sway
as long as she can say
this dance is mine
this dance is mine
this dance is mine

Camping.

Impromtu camping trip!

Heading North, sleeping in the car.

Turned the jeep into a bed and now throwing in the fun stuff, like mozzie repellant and sunscreen.

Back later, loves!

Happy creating out there.

S.

p.s: Amanda I'm going to email you! (or PM you) with our phone number and destination, on the offchance it is close to you and you want to picnic this weekend.