Thursday, January 31, 2008

I Promise You

My piece of bread *always* lands epoxy side down.

Amazing Model

I have found the most amazing model for my new series.
Seriously, I'm bowled over by her variation and strength of poses.


Wednesday, January 30, 2008

We Are



Yo Ho Ho.

I always thought they changed colour to camouflage, but turns out anoles (unlike chameloens) change colour when they are stressed only. The colour change is due to a hormone change in their body.

Did not know!

Now I'm not pissed my anoles rarely changed colours. They were happy little campers.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Big Stinky.

I have the biggest, stinkiest girl crush on Jillian Michaels.
I can't help it, when I see her my heart smiles.

Okay, okay.
I have a big stinky boy crush on Bob Harper, too.

He likes cupcakes.

Sue me!

Monday, January 28, 2008

Found One



I don't know what I look like.

I am painting a family series and it occurred to me that I - being part of my family - would have to be painted also.
After pouring through photos and finding the perfect shots (although my brother is a tough one *squinty eyes*) of my siblings I look for a photo of me.
And I can't find one.
Oh, I can find MILLIONS - we all know I'm a cam ho. But...
I cannot find one that looks like me.

I don't want 'pretty' or 'posed' or any of that jazz. I want, quite simply, a photo that looks like me.

And I can't find one.

Because I suppose I don't quite know what I look like.

"So I walk like I’m on a mission
Cuz that’s the way I groove
I got more and more to do
I got less and less to prove
It took me too long to realize
That I don’t take good pictures
Cuz I have the kind of beauty
That moves"



Ought to look at doing this.


Yesterday I watched 'Klimt'.
Klimt Movie Link.

It was odd but I liked it.
It was filled with a lot of svelte, naked women and golden flake whirlwinds.

Worth glancing at if you're a Klimt fan, just to see how they tried to replicate his work in the scenery/set/filming of things.

Story a *little* bit lacking...but is that essential with all that eye candy?

Universal Horror

I watched a really great documentary on Universal horror filmes yesterday, called 'Universal Horror'. It was fabulous, if you're into old horror flicks.

There was a point where Ray Bradbury said something along the lines of...

"When Chaney died I was 10 years old and it was the end of the world. He was the man who personified death and I thouht if death could die it was the end of everything."

Can you imagine thinking death had died at 10 years old? I probably would have gone the opposite way and thought it was the *beginning* of everything, but it still would have been some odd and marvellous marvel.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Temperamental Artists

I feel like everything that was beautiful inside me has smashed and gone away.
I feel like painting wet people, consisting of nothing but watery puddles, as I sit naked, wet, wide-eyed.
Hair plastered. Body burning, body freezing. Goosebump and shiver, discovery, escape.
I want to lay my head on each piece and morph into it.
Find another reality.
I want to walk through this world and live in another.
Another where the beautiful things inside haven't smashed or broken or disappeared.
Another where my smile comes back and the world is amazing again.
If you swallow all of your tears your lungs drown.
I want to swim through my paintings so that I can break a surface - any surface - and find a way to breathe again.

Saturday, January 26, 2008



Friday, January 25, 2008


Running out of art supplies.
No money to get what I need.

Guess I'll have to stop doing watercolours.
Too tired to even blink or stress about it.

I'm off to bed.


I need to fix the tear on the left.

Website updates tomorrow, I figured out the things/dreamweaver I needed.


I am, without a doubt, more physically and emotionally exhausted than I have ever been in my entire life.
I just want to sleep.
I called my workout partner and arranged to go to the park later in the morning tomorrow, instead of at 5.

I should be floating on air and happy about that but I'm just too exhausted to react properly.

I had so much work to do.
*So* much.

And I just need to go pass out.


If I can handle spending endless hours on the computer today, I shall most definitely create a devinatart storefront to put 'Share Your Tears' prints on.

If those hours on the computer don't kill me, I shall make another account for some of my other pieces, non SYTs related.

I really wish my studio would warm up.
That would make things easier.
*head desk*

Art & Stuff

Drew up a new work yesterday.
Currently waiting on a new canvas to dry so I can draw up another here in a minute.
Hope to complete (or at least get close to completion) three large works today.

Websites, working on both this weekend.
Need both revamping and updating.
Need help with the software.

Looking at making prints available of all favourite art pieces.

More soon.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Signs Like This

Make me smile.

Excuse The Lack Of Make-Up

Art & Stuff

Things to say.
Maybe later.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008


My hair is no longer crimson/brown.
It's the deep, dark brunette I wanted it to be originally.
I can't wait until it dries.


I don't know why my blog lists me as living in Afghanistan.
But I'll take it.

It Has Arrived

I Lied

I fucking lied.
And I swore in a blog that my family members read.
Please note, just as my art is not an invitation to speculate on my life, my blog is not an invitation to judge me by. *mischievious grin*

My *real* problem isn't when people speculate on the issues I don't have.
It's when I address and people speculate on the issues I *do* have.

Why must we be so very naked to be true to ourselves? Or to be the best of ourselves? Or to be the best artists? I'd much rather be naked physically than emotionally. And not because I am ashamed of my life or of my soul, but because I just don't want people to assume they know me.

Confession feels good.
*crosses chest*

Not An Invitation

I just talked last night on the phone to a fellow artist about my next project and about taking older stories and retelling them with a newer issue.
I said that the problem I'm having right now is that people always assume I am my work. It's why I stopped writing actually...whatever I wrote people would ask me about it. If I wrote about two girls in love people would ask if I was gay. If I wrote about drinking people would ask if I was an alcoholic. If I wrote about drugs, I was junkie.
So I'm having a little trouble with the idea of addressing specific issues because people seem to think my artwork - merely existing - is invitation to talk or ask about my life.

It's okay if you just paint a pretty picture. That's what you have and nobody assumes anything. But if you paint anything with a darker twist, people immediately ask you if you suffer from depression or a variety of other diseases.

I have great ideas/issues for the next two series of works I am concentrating on but I'm juggling with the idea of merely retelling the tales without new influence to avoid facing public speculation.

But what kind of artist can live like that?

I gave up my writing (though I do have to admit, after many years, I am writing in my mind again) due to this jumbled mess of speculation. But I will not stop my art for that.

Which means....
Really, *sincerely*, being able to not care about rumours or misguided people in my life.
It means being okay with a small town thinking one particular way about me.
It means ignoring emails from family when they decide to brave up and ask ridiculous questions.

My friend, on the phone, said (rightly) that I have to go with what drives me.
And what drives me right now is the way the story fits, so well, to the issue I am addressing. And to the people that - in turn - this series may reach.

I would love for my art to be more than a pretty picture.
I would like for my pieces to start having meaning for people (like share your tears does)

So I think I'm going to run with what feels right for the art, not for me or for the general mass.
I think I'm just going to have to deal (or hide in my ivory tower and ignore) any speculation afterward.

Because surely, surely, the voice of creation is more important than the voice of speculation.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Silent Mantra

When old demons come out to play
And the best thing you can do is say;

don't fall, don't fall, don't fall, don't fall

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Thursday, January 17, 2008

*freaks out*


*screams and points*

Somebody made talking paintings.
I am going to track the creator down.
And have his babies.



I like my new signature more than any of my art.
Not because it is a stamp of me.
But because - I believe - it's the only thing over the past three years I've managed to perfect.


I finally got together all of my web images (and such) so I can update my sites for the first time in forever, and the dreamweaver I have is new and I can't locate the information I need to download my site from the internet!

*gnashes teeth*

Maybe this is my sign to go swallow some aspirin and hit the treadmill.

More coming soon...

In The Mail Today

From a darling friend who is just back from India.
She is also, incidentally, a phenomonal writer.
Aren't these just the happiest accessories?
Put a skip in my step, they shall.

Passive Aggressiveness in Art

Oh, dear.
If you have a passive aggressive nature perhaps you should not be a painter.
It all starts off well and therapy, almost, to get the blackness out.
But then you think 'oh, maybe such-n-such will see this painting?' and you make it a *little* *bit* *more* *aggressive* is this:

I title my next abstract artistic rage "Ugly Fat Capitalist Who Steals From Local Musicians To Line His Own Untalented, Unmusical, Dirty Pockets"

Too subtle, do you think?

Ridiculous Food

Ridiculous food makes me happy.
It always has.
Crazy coloured food and food that looks more cartoon than it does edible.
I remember walking home from school I would always stop at the dairy and buy the most hideous coloured pieces of bubblegum, five cents a pop (forgive the pun), in a dusty jar on the very back shelf.
Even better when the seller used his filthy hands to get the pieces out.
And then...anything that looks dangerous; bright green popcorn, for example, I'm on it.

So imagine my delight when I found these at the supermarket!

I dropped to my knees and starting praising Jesus (and because I live in Alabama, five other people dropped to their knees and joined in)

Anyway, terrible news, they have gelatine so I can't eat them.
They shall make horrifically brilliant gifts for some people I know.

Rock on Mexican Crazy!
You brighten this bleak, grey day.

Tomorrow I drop confetti-marshamllow-alien crackers on the doorsteps of many loved ones.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008


I found my tattoo on a Chameloen's tail.

*goofy grin*

On Death

I just got this email from my first serious boyfriend.


I had the freakiest dream last night! (Which is not too unusual for me, over the past year my dreams have been getting stranger every night.)

I dreamt that I had died in a plane crash. It didn’t hurt or anything, and it wasn’t that scary. I just remember the plane hitting the ground, the dust cleared, and everyone was just sitting on the ground. Then we all started to get up, an try to understand what had happened. I didn’t know anyone around me, so I just began to walk out of the wreckage.

The next thing that I saw was you standing a field. I made my way towards you. That’s when you told me that we were all dead.

By this time there were hundreds of people just wandering through these fields. Some people finding other people they knew, the rest just kept walking.

You then showed me my own funeral. There were heaps of people saying and reading stuff to me and about me. Now I've totally broken down. You held me and said everything is going to be sweet.

I then calmed down and thought for a second. Why could you see me, talk to me, and show me these things? You told me that you had died some time ago. But I didn’t know about it. I broke down again. That news hurt.

Several moments later, I felt peaceful. Everything was quiet and calm. Everything was going to be fine.

We started to walk towards a city or town together.

That’s when I woke up.

I really like it.
*high fives the moon*

The Correct

answer to 10 is 6.

Splinters and Screaming Wood

Splinters I have.
Unimpressed I am.


I need a better schedule.
I do.
It's 4.51pm and I've finally woken up to my work.
I've finally put on some music, lit some incense, gathered the wood I need for frames.
All day long I just moped around. I even napped. Ridiculous.
Now it is cold and my curtains are drawn, my heater is on, I'm wearing a baggy nightshirt and contemplating art. This should be morning, right? It feels like morning. It feels like the beginning of the day. How did I waste it?

I'm back to getting up at 5 for my workouts.
I'm thinking of waking even earlier, sneaking in an hour of art stuff before I sneak off to the park.

There has to be a better way than this.
I should be too distracted by my art to pay attention to the rest of life.
Not vice versa.

What's up?
This is my year.
And I'm blowing it already.


Grand news! My mother is destroying her kitchen to make herself a studio. Huzzah!

I have been procrastinating with my work of late (my saw blade is blunt and I need to cut several pieces of wood...*sigh*) but reading about her new studio has inspired me to get moving today. I need to redecorate my own studio (I have some Klimt to put up!) and I think I shall burn some incense (which always gets me creative) and blast some music while I sort things. And cut the blasted wood. And then glue, sand, prime and paint.


Studios all over the world unite!
Another of you is being born!
And from it a thousand new worlds shall spring forth.

Oh, giddy grin.

The Orphanage

Yesterday I went to see 'The Orphanage'.

The Orphanage.

I think it was from the same guy who did 'Pans Labyrinth'.
Had very *very* much the same dark feel to the entire work.
Of course this piece was darker still as it was about a haunted orphanage.

It was chilling.

I never know what to think at the end of his movies.
He always makes people go away.

Monday, January 14, 2008

5 Years Ago

5 years ago today I flew into a snowstorm in New York City. I jumped off the plane with an Australian I had befriended. We hung around baggage claim for a bit and then nervously made our way out into 'America'.
I was supposed to be meeting Brennen in the airport. I *loathe* people seeing me first. I always tell people I won't be standing around looking for you, I'll be making a beeline to a bookstore or a coffeestore or to an anything-store that doesn't leave me standing in a crowd looking foolish.
I remember saying goodbye to the Australian as we exchanged numbers and he ran off to find a cab. I remember backing into somebody as I tried to turn my heavy bag around. Of course when you bump into anybody the first thing you do is apologise. I turned a bit and saw a brown leather jacket - I thought to turn and apologise but I knew Brennen was around somewhere and I didn't want to look like a klutzy dork. So I made like nothing had happened and beelined straight to the nearest corner I could find...somewhere where I could half hide and half seek.
It wasn't long before Brennen was there. We sat for a long time on that cold, cold airport floor. 4 hours? Eventually we hailed a cab, suffered through the subway, sat on a bus for a couple of hours and then hiked it down some Philadelphian streets until we found the apartment we were staying at.
Later that night, many many hours and conversations and everythings later, something occurred to me.
"Hey" I say. "Were you wearing a brown leather jacket tonight?"
"Yes" He says.
"Did I bump into you before we met?!?" I ask.
"Yes" he says, grinning.

For shame!
I laugh.
And I apologise.
And thus begins 5 crazy, crazy years with Sarah. blip blip

Explicit Lyrics

Saturday, January 12, 2008

It was *supposed* to be brown

T'was supposed to be brunette.

Comments, comments, comments.
Always I got comments on my hair when it was bright or funky.
Nonstop, everytime I went out.
Sometimes I would smile.
Always someone loved it.
Last night in fact, when I stood in line with my *dark brown *cough* hairdye, two girls told me how great my pink hair was.

It's time to draw in.
Or it was supposed to be time to draw in.
To smile at the world but shut my curtains.
To haul rapunzels braids up.
To shut the window on my ivory tower.
It was time to retreat for a bit and just...
hang out inside of myself.
Inside of the earth.
Inside of the womb, away from the rest.

So brown was it.
To darken the edges and match the soil.

I ended up - somewhat - with crimson.

Maybe take two will be better?

Friday, January 11, 2008

Oh, Oh, Oh!

If you box a boxing bag with gloves shaped like this:

Then it makes sense that you kick them with shoes shaped like this!

Oh, oh, oh, I've been wanting a pair of clown shoes lately! Tonight it all comes together.

Today I:

1) Finish a manuscript
2) Start highlighting Carroll
3) Build 4 frames and canvases
4) Cut 9 more
5) Go to Home Depot
6) Go for another run
7) Assemble the VCR in the lounge
8) Hang paintings and photos up in new locations around the house
9) Rip apart my Klimt calendar and drown in him
10) Finish a family portrait that I had abandoned
11) Dye my hair...brown?

All barefooted and saronged.

Paintable Girls & Boys

Remember earlier I wrote that I need a t-shirt which reads "I am a painter, not a pervert'? Well, it still holds true. Except perhaps I need a bag which reads that, so I can carry it everyday.

Yesterday whilst out at a restaraunt I was swamped with paintable people. Every person, at every table, was paintable. In fact, every little *thing* about every person was paintable. I couldn't help but stare at and study everyone. If someone glanced my way I just passed my gaze to someone else. Sucked them all in. My head was spinning.


Wouldn't it be nice if we had the time to paint every person that we passed on the street?

Anyway the song 'Breakable' by Ingrid Michaelson stuck in my head. Only instead of 'breakable' 'paintable' became the word I sang.

And I sing it still.

Paintable Girls & Boys.

Thursday, January 10, 2008


I am going to get a shuffle on on the 'Alice In Wonderland' series because I just confirmed hanging them in town in March.

I'm excited!

I currently have 9 paintings to complete this month and then BAM. I can start on Alice. *grin*

Give Me An Inch! (& I'll take a mile)

Yesterday during my morning workout I felt very drained - which is unusual for me. Later that day I had intense pain in my legs, like the pain I would get when I was little. My mother always said they were growing pains. Please! God! Give me an inch (wouldn't that be marvellous if I suddenly grew an inch or two?)
Anyway this morning I woke very drained as well. I slept in until 7. I lay in bed watching tv until 10. Then I fell asleep. I reluctantly got up and went into town around 11. When I got back home - maybe around 1 - I fell asleep again. I slept until 6 pm. Now it is nearly seven and I had to get up to make dinner for boy. But I'm still drained.

I wouldn't have taken a day off except boy told me to. And I think - wow. I really must have needed it. On top of a good night's sleep I slept 9 hours today!

I was going to make some frames and do some sketches (despite my day off) but I think, perhaps, I'm just going to go back to bed and watch some telly.

Law & Order, HEAR ME ROAR.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Much Better

I am singing one of my dad's favourite songs.
And dancing.
And working.
And feeling much better.
Just thinking about beautiful things.
And sing, sing, sing-ing.

Sexton & Bowie

on repeat.


My mood is drizzly.
It has been since I woke.
I have lots of work to do but I just...*rabbit nose*....tired.
Maybe I will clean the lounge and hang my boxing bag back up.
Pound it for a bit.
Then see about painting some portraits.

The 3rd DVD of art in the 21st century came in the mail today.
And also the life and times of Frido Kahlo.
I look forward to watching both.

Monday, January 7, 2008


Please may I keep her?

It's On Yer Head


Iyee because I don't know how to feel about it.
I painted a small acrylic tonight.
I loved it.
I loved the feel of the medium.
It was...solid.
My goodness.
And I could paint over subject matter.
It's not transparent.

Of course I used to be an acrylic artist, these things I know.
But oh, ho!
I *know* them more after tonight.

I loved the way using acrylic felt.
I think I may be taking a small 'acrylic' week this week.
To play with it all again.

My biggest problem right now is a dragon.
And what medium to use.

That is the other thing.
Acrylic is soooooo fast to paint with I want to cry.
It dries instantly.
So fast to use.
Can you imagine the work I could get done in the same amount of time as WC?

What happened?
So fickle am I.

More Fun News

The second-hand bookstore we love has changed ownership. The new owners are not only turning it into a little coffeeshop but they have a wall up front for local art.
I met the owner and she wants me to put some stuff up.

I've been meaning to scout around for locations but this one just happened by accident.

Oh Goodness

I forgot something else that's awesome!

I think I may be going to collaborate on book illustration with a couple of different artists (that is, there is a guy who has written a book who is looking for some illustrations/illustrators).

I've been wanting to get into illustration for awhile but have stuck to painting. This will be a fun, new challenge.

I look forward to exploring it.

Last Thing's Last

I have an amazing artist staying with me.
We've spent most of our time relaxing and chattering.
She has been painting (more than I) and today I hope some vocal recordings shall be taken.
Also some photography.
So today will be crammed full with things. Maybe I will stay awake all night long, to lengthen the day.
And then tomorrow, sadly, I say goodbye.

When she has gone I shall update my sites and carry on with commissions and gifts.

It's been so great having her here, though.
Like a reflection.
I can look at her and know that it's okay for an artist to be this way, or that way.
For us to be similiar.
For us to be different.

It's know there are beautiful people out there, doing their own beautiful things in their beautiful worlds. And that occassionally we can interact, float through each other's bubbles, absorb and carry on.


I couldn't explain it if I tried.

I'm just very glad she came.
I've had such a great time.
Boy has too.
And it's such a beautiful way to start the New Year.

Fifth Thing's Fifth.

The cold snap thawed.
At least for yesterday.
And today.

Fourth Thing's Fourth

I finished 'Jupiter Gurl'
For Jupiter Gurl.
Seeing as the amazing artist is staying at my house right now.
I gave it to her for a birthday gift.
But I hope to give her a little something extra, if I can get to it.

Jupiter Gurl

Third Thing's Third.

Will be finished.
Will be finished soon.

Second Thing's Second

The shower does not work.
On the *inside* of the packaging (ever helpful) it states WILL KILL, WILL KILL, WILL KILL.

Maybe I won't start my New Year with that particular shower.
Now I have to get my $ back.

*mutters and mutters and growls*

First Thing's First

Oh Yeah.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Collaboration Day

A friend is staying with me. Not just a friend but also a wonderful artist of assorted medias.
She doesn't know it yet but I'm about to jump up and down on her bed and wake her.
Today is going to be collaboration day.


New Years Resolutions

Have a minimum of 3 local shows
Update websites as soon as new paintings have been completed
Market/redesign sites for online sales
Submit SYTs proposal to art magazines
Apply for grants
Explore Atlanta/Birmingham/Montgomery for show locations
Finish Fairy Tales series
Explore Circus series
Explore Alice In Wonderland series
Contemplate Keleidescope series
Contemplate Swing series
Hyperventilate and breathe over Broken Unicorn series

Run a 1/2 marathon
Run a full marathon
Learn how to box properly

Camp frequently
Make time for yoga
Read more
Learn the keyboard
Sleep properly
Climb out of Ivory Tower and do more with friends

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Goodness Gracious Me.

I went into the store to return Christmas gifts to afford a heater and blanket.
Unfortunately I did not get a heater because of...


That's right! A little rig-a-ma-roo so that...dum dum da dum....for the first time in this house, HOT SHOWERS CAN BE HAD!
Let's see...that'll be the first time in over six months that I'll have some sort of heated water that hasn't been boiled in a pot.
It'll be my THIRD hot shower in over six months.
And now...propane and God willing...I can have one every day! (or every other, beause I'm still quite poor)

No more cold baths in a cold bathroom!
No more soaking in my own filth!
No more soaking in hairdye chemicals!
No more freezing wet ones on goosebump skin!

I may *actually* (touch wood because I'm wary) be able to have hot showers again!

Although - ironically - the water bill is due tomorrow.
I may have to return this beast to pay for it.
*squinty eyes*


(I'm dreadfully excited)