I finally finished these. This first one is a fun mixed media piece with some flagging tape, which is my new favorite kind of tape. It comes in neon colors!
Why Can't I Be You?, 2013, 8"x8" mixed media on wood panel
Cavern, 2013 (final) 36"x36" mixed media on canvas
Cavern is a painting that I have been struggling with for four years. You can say it's been my experimental canvas for the past four years. See other iterations of it here. I am so glad to be done with it.
Untitled, 2013, 36"x48" mixed media on canvas. Personal piece.
This is my first "real" attempt at abstract painting. I am happy with it. It's called Carnivale, and it's 8"x10" acrylic and pencil on wood panel.
Carnivale, 2013, 8"x10" acrylic and pencil on wood panel
We keep passing each other
like strangers on a sidewalk
like cars on a freeway
like an eyelash in my eye
that falls away so quickly
I don't even remember the sensation.
I am occupying another space
the space between
a space where nothing gets done
where no one stays long
but where everything else continues to move around it.
I need to get back to the place
where I can feel
my
sharp eyelashes again.
Didn't do a whole lot of sketchbook drawing in March... but here are the results:
I used to sit on that god-awful orange carpet
And stare at that photo.
The place where you came from.
So green, so lush.
The castle on the hill became the place
I wanted to escape to.
But I was convinced it was a fantasy.
That places like that didn't really exist.
So I went there.
Flew to your faraway land.
Drove through the green, the lushness,
to the castle.
And realized maybe I liked it better
when it wasn't real.
Squiggles, strings, noodles, whatever you want to call them. I'm not sure what they are but this one in particular is the largest I've done thus far.
A possible series in progress...
There was a girl
who should've known me as a girl.
We could've swapped Nirvana CDs
and borrowed each other's tattered oversized sweaters,
grunge uniforms.
Shared stories of boys and
hot times in back seats.
But those days are over.
There is a woman who knows me as a woman.
And she is teaching me.
And she is inspiring me.
And she forges the future.
And I'm kind of glad it worked out that way.
What is it inside that says
things are never good enough?
That there's always a need
for more?
That the neverending growling
stomach aches;
A hunger that awakens like a thousand
bears after a long winter.
The need to collect so much
that I have to continually
search for more containers,
more storage, more space.
The more it expands,
the smaller I get.
Written on 1/25/13 in Salt Lake City
Three tiny, scraggy white mounds emerge
from a hilly landscape of gum.
That you will use to
keep alive.
To chew the fat.
To tear the flesh.
To mash my heart.
In this new series of drawings, I've been exploring abstract, geometric forms that can only be described as unrealistic gemstones, prisms, and spectrums. I love the depth and background - both visual and meaning - that the book page gives to the pieces.
I have added these two pieces to my Etsy shop as 8x10 prints: Illogical Prism / Shutter Prism.
She said, "I looked at him,
and I thought, 'Is this how much
my mother loves me?'"
And I knew how she felt.
The opening of a secret
Pandora's box that lives
inside our hearts.
But I'll only remember
stealing "day" and "night"
kisses in the darkness
by the shore.
The bed jumping
in the room
with the high ceilings.
We jumped so high back then,
there seemed to be no ceiling at all.
Reaching,
eeking toward it.
You finally found it.
(You always fell asleep first.)
What I accomplished in 2012: - Lost all the "baby weight" - Joined crossfit, which was something I was terrified to do and stuck with it - New distance PR: 8.25 miles! - Kicked ass as my first whole year being a mom - Stepped it up business-wise
A new year is a good enough excuse as any for me to start a fresh To-Do list:
- Launch a newly designed website
- Start owning my shit and who I am apart from Design Milk.
- Continue to maintain a healthy, happy weight, but pursue getting stronger & faster instead of skinnier.
- Eat more fruit and vegetables, less sugar.
- Complete a specialized workout challenge (e.g., 50 pushups, 100 squats, 28-minute 5K, etc.)
- Do yoga and intense stretching at least once a week to prevent injury.
- Move every day.
- Write 50 poems.
- Draw a shape every day for the entire year (#ashapeaday2013)
- Wear more color.
- Engage in more meaningful conversations.
- Do something risky/scary/new.
The last of the 2012 sketchbook drawings. I'm off to buy a new sketchbook for 2013 this afternoon!
See all of the 2009-2012 sketchbook drawings here.
Watch you blink those
baby blues.
The ones that I have, too.
Remove the tangles
from your curly locks.
The ones that I have, too.
Brush away tiny hairs
from your face.
Let me see that German forehead,
the one that I have, too.
Giving parts of me away --
I won't lie --
it hurts.
Cuts deep.
But knowing that they get
a fresh start
is like a clean bandage.
I lick my wounds
to be strong for you.
Because, one day,
the ones that I have
will be yours
and yours alone.
Standing on the corner
of the empty movie set.
Knowing it was coming to an end,
we sucked in every moment
like a prisoner in fresh air.
I remember what it used to
be like.
To be the one wanting
longing
needing.
To have that feeling of being
only one-half of a
person.
Only when I stood next to you
did I finally feel whole.
A heavy snowfall snowy mountains block my view
of a beautiful chill Sunday
We must write with our long slender fingers
gracefully flowing
Across the page my eyes grow heavy as the snow
on Sunday falls bringing Sunday to night
Pale white skin against my cheek throbbing and
aching the flesh surrounding my soul
Black night deep into the witching hour and still
writing though we know it's late Sunday's grim smile casting down upon my tiny
thoughts, tiny mind
Speaking words as though the pen were a microphone
acknowledging your presence and my being
A creation of something already discovered
Elegantly the aperture in my mind grows containing
nothing like the blended colors of dead brain cells
Swirling I create piles of nonsense, of chaos,
of the end of the world
Philosophy of a small Sunday of my life doused in
femininity and you
but you don't seem to understand
Barefoot outside six feet deep in the snow
Reading my best poem for the angels to hear and
breathing clouds of smoke blessed by the icicles
in my hair
and this Sunday I'm expecting you to be here again
writing with me and maybe this time I won't be
alone.
It will just keep growing,
And it won’t stop.
Not for you.
Those days aren’t over.
And so I put my hand on my belly
And felt it, the warm fullness
Of being completely empty.
I
In all of my jealousy
you laughed
waving your hand
and pocketing my $15 lipstick,
“cranberry crush”
which is what I had for you.
And in taking my generosity and dedication
3000 miles away,
I am left standing in your place
unable to fill your shape.
Imagining
what the strobes must look like
reflecting your pale skin
and what
song you’re dancing to
as your hips
roll and flirt through my mind.
II
I sit down in a
familiar booth
surrounded by familiar faces
lacking yours.
I’ve found you out.
I know
how you left me for
coffee and saline.
But I guess you left everyone else, too.
Last time I looked at you
we sat in your room
in front of the mirror,
God, I hated you.
But, maybe now…yeah, maybe…
I can learn to roll my hips
as good as you.
