sketch 07
sketches 08, 09
sketches 10, 11
sketches 12, 13, 14
sketches 15, 16
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
a new beginning
I am crawling out of my skin excited about my new quest for education, and the funding for my education for that matter. I have started the process of applying to school and acquiring scholarship applications and I've even started looking at job options and housing. At the top of my list is of course the funding for this endeavor.
What's weird to me is this feeling of nervousness. It's almost the same as the first time I applied for school. The one difference is my level of confidence. This time my acceptance would be known to me as well deserved. I know what I am worth and I am set on settling for no less.
One quiet evening I described my preparation of battle to my mother as being "ready to kiss the toes of bureaucracy" and kick some art school ass.
I am worried, and scared, but I am firm in my belief that I am a great artist and can release the hell of my art on the critical professors, unwary eyes of the public, and become a more powerful vessel of art than I have every dreamed I could be. It's all to come. I will persevere and become great.
It's not the pursuit of "the American dream", it's my pursuit of what I was born to do. My goal is not fame, nor fortune, but accomplishment and leading a thick and wonderful life.
This is a preview of what is to come:
What's weird to me is this feeling of nervousness. It's almost the same as the first time I applied for school. The one difference is my level of confidence. This time my acceptance would be known to me as well deserved. I know what I am worth and I am set on settling for no less.
One quiet evening I described my preparation of battle to my mother as being "ready to kiss the toes of bureaucracy" and kick some art school ass.
I am worried, and scared, but I am firm in my belief that I am a great artist and can release the hell of my art on the critical professors, unwary eyes of the public, and become a more powerful vessel of art than I have every dreamed I could be. It's all to come. I will persevere and become great.
It's not the pursuit of "the American dream", it's my pursuit of what I was born to do. My goal is not fame, nor fortune, but accomplishment and leading a thick and wonderful life.
This is a preview of what is to come:
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
intensification
(I'm closet cocky. I pretend to be humble.)
I've started looking at different art schools. I think I may have made a decision within never to return to my glorified dream of graduating from SAIC. Though it may be out of spite, I'm looking elsewhere for the guidance of my gift. Part of the excitement of looking at colleges and universities is seeing what other people are doing and have done. Although I feel like I have taken a step backwards and will once again be a freshman starting over... seeing other artists thriving gives me tingles down my spine.
You see, and this may have something to do with my closet cockiness, I am a constellation of brilliance and beauty, waiting to burst through my delicate shell, more than eager to spread the aesthetics of my soul on to vast white canvases. Seeing others in the action turns me on.
Expect beautiful paintings.
I've started looking at different art schools. I think I may have made a decision within never to return to my glorified dream of graduating from SAIC. Though it may be out of spite, I'm looking elsewhere for the guidance of my gift. Part of the excitement of looking at colleges and universities is seeing what other people are doing and have done. Although I feel like I have taken a step backwards and will once again be a freshman starting over... seeing other artists thriving gives me tingles down my spine.
You see, and this may have something to do with my closet cockiness, I am a constellation of brilliance and beauty, waiting to burst through my delicate shell, more than eager to spread the aesthetics of my soul on to vast white canvases. Seeing others in the action turns me on.
Expect beautiful paintings.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
today is ouch
I'm getting sued again.
life enrichment.
fuck.
Yesterday I bought a curling iron for five dollars. The forty year old woman cashier asked me on my way out, "How do you use one of those?" She contorted her face in such a way that I almost had to turn my head on it's side to see which end was up. I still don't understand how a woman her age didn't have a clue how to use my purchase item.
Blurb.
Check out this guy's blog: makarand06.blogspot.com
Thursday, October 23, 2008
a yearning
I've been very lonely lately. Now... I have been surrounded by people, many different people at many different times. So how is it possible to feel lonely?
I yearn for something, an emptiness felt. I miss the times spent with creative people, time spent in a classroom full of artists, time in the city, and loving someone. I even miss the time when I felt no dedication to my job. Somehow I have involved myself in my career more than I intended on, and that's the nature of the company that I work for, and the nature of a career of any kind. If it's just a job there's an ability to disconnect, which I lack. I yearn for a time when work is just work, go, do, return, back to my life. I wonder if that will ever happen for me.
My plan: Save money. Talk to my close friends, family, and significant about my plan more thoroughly. Begin looking for a job in February. Begin looking for an apartment in March. Move to the city at the end of April.
This plan seems pretty simple, but everything is more complex in it's underwear. I need to save more money, meaning I have to work more... and that is something I'm almost refusing to do. My work ethic is at it's all time low. In an earlier blog I briefly described the nature of my work, and it's not a regular nine-to-fiver. It's a hell hole of hormones, a fiery furnace of fury, and now I'm just having fun with my alliteration but it's the honest to blog truth. I can't bring myself to work more than I already do. I just want to come home and be alone.
Being alone does not help my loneliness. Life can be so complicated in very cruel ways. But back to this feeling I've been having...
My boyfriend is out of town for about a week. Of course I'm going to feel a little lonely. But hell, I've had a lot of time to do things like go to the nearby coffee shop and blog, not clean my house, roam around in my underwear... I thought I would have the ability to discover peace of mind. My lack of inner peace has nothing to do with the people I spend my time with. So WHat Is IT?
PMS.
HORMONES.
SHITTY JOB.
POOR.
I spend most of my extra time looking around at my small world and thinking, "what the hell, why am I doing it this way?" I could be doing this or that there, not here. I look in my closet and rediscover my capabilities for fashion. I dig through my jewelry boxes and rediscover my craving for originality. I sift through my sketchbooks and revisit old ideas. I look at past work and remember what I used to think. I mail letters and postcards to places I'd rather be. I listen to my weird independent music and hear the city calling.
I can easily make a life here. I just can't bring myself to give up all the aspirations of what if. I fear my ability to get comfortable and settle for something less. I fear what will happen when I get older, get married, have kids, have more and more bills. Where will I be and what will I have done before all of this happens. All I can think of is that this is my time to do what I can when I will even when I probably shouldn't. These are my younger years, the times I need to really live for all the times to come in my life that I can't.
What will happen?
My plan has hopes within. Publicly, I am willing to share these hopes simply for the purpose of weeding them out (and maybe I'm the only one who knows what I mean by that, but this blog is really for me, my process, that I am allowing you to witness).
I hope I can save enough money. I hope the person I love will come with me. I hope to find a job that doesn't suck the life from my soul (I could be a factory worker stapling packets of origami instructions and be perfectly soul-full). I hope to rediscover my inner artist. I hope to rediscover my art-seeing eyes. I hope to meet new people and I hope to begin a fuller life.
That's what it's all about. I want to live the best, and the fullest I can. Maybe not the longest, or wealthiest, or even happiest, just beautiful, engaging, gaping, and full. I don't want to be alone with empty aspirations.
I yearn for something, an emptiness felt. I miss the times spent with creative people, time spent in a classroom full of artists, time in the city, and loving someone. I even miss the time when I felt no dedication to my job. Somehow I have involved myself in my career more than I intended on, and that's the nature of the company that I work for, and the nature of a career of any kind. If it's just a job there's an ability to disconnect, which I lack. I yearn for a time when work is just work, go, do, return, back to my life. I wonder if that will ever happen for me.
My plan: Save money. Talk to my close friends, family, and significant about my plan more thoroughly. Begin looking for a job in February. Begin looking for an apartment in March. Move to the city at the end of April.
This plan seems pretty simple, but everything is more complex in it's underwear. I need to save more money, meaning I have to work more... and that is something I'm almost refusing to do. My work ethic is at it's all time low. In an earlier blog I briefly described the nature of my work, and it's not a regular nine-to-fiver. It's a hell hole of hormones, a fiery furnace of fury, and now I'm just having fun with my alliteration but it's the honest to blog truth. I can't bring myself to work more than I already do. I just want to come home and be alone.
Being alone does not help my loneliness. Life can be so complicated in very cruel ways. But back to this feeling I've been having...
My boyfriend is out of town for about a week. Of course I'm going to feel a little lonely. But hell, I've had a lot of time to do things like go to the nearby coffee shop and blog, not clean my house, roam around in my underwear... I thought I would have the ability to discover peace of mind. My lack of inner peace has nothing to do with the people I spend my time with. So WHat Is IT?
PMS.
HORMONES.
SHITTY JOB.
POOR.
I spend most of my extra time looking around at my small world and thinking, "what the hell, why am I doing it this way?" I could be doing this or that there, not here. I look in my closet and rediscover my capabilities for fashion. I dig through my jewelry boxes and rediscover my craving for originality. I sift through my sketchbooks and revisit old ideas. I look at past work and remember what I used to think. I mail letters and postcards to places I'd rather be. I listen to my weird independent music and hear the city calling.
I can easily make a life here. I just can't bring myself to give up all the aspirations of what if. I fear my ability to get comfortable and settle for something less. I fear what will happen when I get older, get married, have kids, have more and more bills. Where will I be and what will I have done before all of this happens. All I can think of is that this is my time to do what I can when I will even when I probably shouldn't. These are my younger years, the times I need to really live for all the times to come in my life that I can't.
What will happen?
My plan has hopes within. Publicly, I am willing to share these hopes simply for the purpose of weeding them out (and maybe I'm the only one who knows what I mean by that, but this blog is really for me, my process, that I am allowing you to witness).
I hope I can save enough money. I hope the person I love will come with me. I hope to find a job that doesn't suck the life from my soul (I could be a factory worker stapling packets of origami instructions and be perfectly soul-full). I hope to rediscover my inner artist. I hope to rediscover my art-seeing eyes. I hope to meet new people and I hope to begin a fuller life.
That's what it's all about. I want to live the best, and the fullest I can. Maybe not the longest, or wealthiest, or even happiest, just beautiful, engaging, gaping, and full. I don't want to be alone with empty aspirations.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
ArtAche
Well, I have found myself here again.
Today I took pictures of some of my favorite paintings of mine in order to share a few with you. When I took a step back and really looked at the pieces from the eyes of the you... they look pretty damn good. Whenever I complete a sound piece of artwork, I marvel for a few days, swim in the high. I really amaze myself and am often surprised by what flows from my fingertips. Every painting is a discovery for me.
I hope you like them.
It's interesting to me because I often find myself in a writer's block place... painter's block I'm sure. I get sucked into the everyday life and when I find myself face to face with a blank canvas, she usually wins the staring contest. I'm STUMPED. I have to remind myself by leaving notes... commands to sketch regardless, reminders that everything that comes out is simply beautiful... if not visually there is always the aesthetic of the process. So usually I get up the nerve to just let the paint run wild, get jiggy with a canvas or two, and I'm off. The ride is wonderful, I overcome the conflict and create a masterpiece after a long dry spell. Then I am thrust back into exile. The beauty of the plug I just pulled out of my rusty drain of a brain puts the bar high for future pieces to come.
This is when I refer to my notes... "it's a process," "you'll use it later," "get the bad out so the good can flow."
I'm beginning to wonder if my creative process will always be this muddy. Will I always have to wait for that tidal wave... and with global warming coming... what if I'm too poor during the high water season...
Will my skill turn into craft... into a structured, mindful, discipline?
I have no idea.
Today I took pictures of some of my favorite paintings of mine in order to share a few with you. When I took a step back and really looked at the pieces from the eyes of the you... they look pretty damn good. Whenever I complete a sound piece of artwork, I marvel for a few days, swim in the high. I really amaze myself and am often surprised by what flows from my fingertips. Every painting is a discovery for me.
I hope you like them.
It's interesting to me because I often find myself in a writer's block place... painter's block I'm sure. I get sucked into the everyday life and when I find myself face to face with a blank canvas, she usually wins the staring contest. I'm STUMPED. I have to remind myself by leaving notes... commands to sketch regardless, reminders that everything that comes out is simply beautiful... if not visually there is always the aesthetic of the process. So usually I get up the nerve to just let the paint run wild, get jiggy with a canvas or two, and I'm off. The ride is wonderful, I overcome the conflict and create a masterpiece after a long dry spell. Then I am thrust back into exile. The beauty of the plug I just pulled out of my rusty drain of a brain puts the bar high for future pieces to come.
This is when I refer to my notes... "it's a process," "you'll use it later," "get the bad out so the good can flow."
I'm beginning to wonder if my creative process will always be this muddy. Will I always have to wait for that tidal wave... and with global warming coming... what if I'm too poor during the high water season...
Will my skill turn into craft... into a structured, mindful, discipline?
I have no idea.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Chicken
What am I doing here? I'm not actually sure. I disconnected myself from myspace completely... so I'm filling my Internet connection fetish with this new site. I actually loved to blog. I don't really care who reads it or not, or even if my entries are interesting or not. It's like an online journal. I want to be more connected on the Internet and make this a place where I can share myself, my art and my thoughts. I could turn this into a place where I advertise my artwork and talent, or I could simply use it as a place to entry mindless ramblings much like this one. For the most part I would like to steer clear of the personal information like who my boyfriend is and what's going on in my family or with my friends. I say this as a reminder to myself in case I forget.
I wish my stream of consciousness was more interesting and that I had Internet at home. I would blog a lot more if I had Internet at home, but with my upcoming move to the big city I can't allow myself to pay for yet one more thing every month.
So let me take some time to introduce myself. I am an artist with brilliant prospects. I work in with a non-profit company helping teenage girls with their unplanned pregnancies and helping them to gain independent living skills and positive parenting skills. I hate it. But that's what jobs are there for, an outlet for all that anger in one's life. Or maybe I'm just insane. I have brilliant eyes that see the world like that of a poet. I'm often intoxicated by life's beauty and it's torment, turning those visual thoughts into paintings and words. I'm actually quite good. Most of the time though I have to remind myself that I am not an artist for the money. I discovered my art before I discovered money. It's hard possessing this gift though. I wish I could devote myself to it like the past masterminds, but that takes a lot of time. The way I look at it is that in this world of today I would either need to be incredibly wealthy and know that everything was taken care of, or incredibly poor, so poor that I would never expect to have anything more so that I would be able to let loose on the only thing I have in life that truly means anything. I'm closer to theory two, and that struggle produces tension which produces amazing, conflicting, arousing paintings.
I'm not one to toot my own horn, and I'm actually incredibly humble. But I do feel an ounce of desire within for someone to discover my talent and begin to feed it to the world. I want more people to see what I see and I want to be able to be engrossed in the fumes of art and contemplation.
I have lived in Lincoln for the last two years almost. Before that I was kissing the assess of bureaucrats in Chicago just to attend one semester at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. That is my destination. I am planning my move to a big city in less than six months. It's going to be very hard and interesting I'm sure. But in these two years my art has progressed and turned into something else entirely.
I wish my stream of consciousness was more interesting and that I had Internet at home. I would blog a lot more if I had Internet at home, but with my upcoming move to the big city I can't allow myself to pay for yet one more thing every month.
So let me take some time to introduce myself. I am an artist with brilliant prospects. I work in with a non-profit company helping teenage girls with their unplanned pregnancies and helping them to gain independent living skills and positive parenting skills. I hate it. But that's what jobs are there for, an outlet for all that anger in one's life. Or maybe I'm just insane. I have brilliant eyes that see the world like that of a poet. I'm often intoxicated by life's beauty and it's torment, turning those visual thoughts into paintings and words. I'm actually quite good. Most of the time though I have to remind myself that I am not an artist for the money. I discovered my art before I discovered money. It's hard possessing this gift though. I wish I could devote myself to it like the past masterminds, but that takes a lot of time. The way I look at it is that in this world of today I would either need to be incredibly wealthy and know that everything was taken care of, or incredibly poor, so poor that I would never expect to have anything more so that I would be able to let loose on the only thing I have in life that truly means anything. I'm closer to theory two, and that struggle produces tension which produces amazing, conflicting, arousing paintings.
I'm not one to toot my own horn, and I'm actually incredibly humble. But I do feel an ounce of desire within for someone to discover my talent and begin to feed it to the world. I want more people to see what I see and I want to be able to be engrossed in the fumes of art and contemplation.
I have lived in Lincoln for the last two years almost. Before that I was kissing the assess of bureaucrats in Chicago just to attend one semester at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. That is my destination. I am planning my move to a big city in less than six months. It's going to be very hard and interesting I'm sure. But in these two years my art has progressed and turned into something else entirely.
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