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.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
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.
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*
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*
Monday, November 26, 2007
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*
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*
Sunday, November 25, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, November 23, 2007
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*
*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*
Thursday, November 22, 2007
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!
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!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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.
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.
*giggles*
That's funny, you see.
Monday, November 19, 2007
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....
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....
Sunday, November 18, 2007
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 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...
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...
Friday, November 16, 2007
Oh, Yes.
I do not want an Iguana anymore, Sam I Am.
Suggestions for the *enormous* aquarium I inherited are now welcome.
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*
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, November 12, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Also Watched
Oh!
I also watched 'Forgotten Silver'.
Which I thought was a very odd thing for Mister Jackson to do.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
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*
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*
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*
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
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?
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?
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
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