My first piece of art in the Corcoran!

Ok--so it's not being shown in the gallery...but it's up for the other students to see---and THAT's bragging rights! My "shop" teacher picked one of my pieces to go on display--it even has a little plastic plaque below it with my name on it :)
*Sigh*
I'm so ready to cry....I mean--I'm not even dead and my stuff is on display...lol
so I'm going to keep putting stuff up here for our ladies abroad so that it'll be like you're right in the city at the gallery :)

Big Red (aka Saturnine) R.I.P.

Lets all take a moment to remember a beautiful car named Red....she was a good girl. She hauled alot of crap. She drove me to work, school, home, and on many exciting excursions.... We laughed together...we cried together We duct-taped her back together when I accidentally drove her up on a sidewalk (sorry Red...) So let's have a moment of silence and hold hands....and play Taps for the best damn car this gal has ever known...(and believe you me...I've known a few....this is # 3 for me....perhaps it's time for a tank...)

I'll miss your steering wheel....the pretty pictures I drew and the stickers on the bumper.... Oh Red....Porque moriste?

tHe nonSenSe of my art

I'm an artist.
I realized that as I was sitting on the metro with my newly bleached hair, and crazy clothes color combo (take THAT alliterations!) reading Mojo....nobody really looks at me funny anymore, and if they do, I'm not sure I either notice or care...I think I've finally embraced the artist within, who creates not with the reckless abandon of before--but with careful consideration of composition and form.
I look at what I want to make as a challenge, and each piece fulfills a definite purpose--telling a story, venting a feeling, frustration--letting go of a hurt, or opening a window to happiness.

I've been able to describe through my art-things I could NEVER (there--I used that word....hahaha) say out loud. I've been able to scream without opening my mouth; fly without leaving my room, and repair heartache without having to deal with more shrinks :)
(I have to love that about art---Art therapy--it's the best :P)

So anyhow--even if I never become famous, I guess I'm content with sitting in my room from time to time making murky masterpieces that maybe mean something to me only-
I create to express my joy, I'm not always happy, but I have found joy in my new life-my second chance on this earth and I feel compelled to put that out there for the universe to do with it what it will--joy isn't always pretty, or happy or nice--it reflects a journey...and so I'm beginning to be less hard on myself to creat the "perfect" painting or design--
I won't ever be a Renoir or a Monet, or even a Dali....but I'll be a Rockwell.... :)

Always, Never....

I find myself using superlatives superfluously--especially of late.
Example: "I will never get into school" has now become, "I will never get out of school."
or the ever popular--"This always happens to me!" when I have a crummy day.
I have also found myself falling into the trap of using superlatives as a statement of fact-an obvious fallacy. I also rule out potentialities with a simple flick of the tongue.
How powerful is the broad brush NEVER-and how inclusive, but inaccurate the reach of ALWAYS. I really must learn to use them more carefully.
It reminds me of part of the book, The Phantom Tollbooth-where the main character Milo went to a kingdom in which the king had him eat his words. He misunderstood the instructions and gave a lenghty and boring speech because he thought that the more important the words, the better they would taste. Then the king got up and spoke all sorts of delicacies, which he then ate. Needless to say, Milo's words were bland and worthless--and no matter how grand did him no good...

I suppose the two aren't really related...I'm a bit tired. I think I need to go back and read that book again--or watch the goofy 70's version...it's hilarious-it goes from regular movie to cartoon, to movie again...and has really corny songs---it's a classic. Run, don't walk to a video rental store and get it to show to a 10 year old you know--it'll educate them about proper verb-subject agreement-so important in these troubled times.

Emy GOT Inked!!!!

Oh Yeah! I got my Tatt on Saturday....and not only does it have treemendous significance (not a typo--my tattoo is a dogwood...) but I got to design it myself.
Happy day.
PLUS--I got to have 3 of my bestest friends around to complete the joy of the experience--
Background on the significance:
1. The Dogwood signifies Christ on the cross--the cross shape and the red blood on the 4 edges. My symbol of rebirth.
2. The Dogwood is my grand mother's favorite flower-and I think it's our birthmonth flower...not sure--must check.
3. The Dogwood tree ties in with one of my first memories--climbing trees with my best friend from childhood. I loved climbing trees-and naming them and actually pretty much anything out-of-doors when I was growing up. So it's a return to my "roots"
4. The Dogwood is the first flower to bloom in spring, and I was born on the first day of spring :)
5. The Dogwood is pretty-and I like it :)

Frigidity And Coldness In The District

It is a cold day in the land of the freezing and the home of the brazen...
I am acutely aware that I left all of my mittens and gloves at my mom's house where they will do me no good....and my nose was a cheery cherry red when I got on the metro this AM--I could have provided alternate light for the tunnels...argh

I'm starting to rethink my love of all things wintery---perhaps when I get home and make some cocoa and bake some cookies all will return to normal-as I remember that cocoa is not half as good coming in from a 70 degree day as it is from a 30 degree day...
Does this make me sadistic?

Also-in a sidenote, I've begun reading Thomas More's Utopia on the Metro...the irony does not escape me as I am in a complete anti-Utopia riding with strangers who would rather push an old lady down than give her a seat...

Thomas More writes about a society which puts the needs of all above the needs of self, but which also prizes taking care of self--it's beautiful without being sappy. He also speaks out against a govenrment which would make people serve and pay without getting anything in return, maiking them poorer-and then punish them for not being able to pay....it's such a vicious cycle, but one which we accept so blindly.
The Utopians try to avoid war, but if they have to fight, they try to stir up so much dissent within a country that it implodes on itself that they needent ever actually ever go to battle-and no one need die---they use strategy, not warfare to fight...it's brilliant.
They also value the mind, not riches--gold is used to lock up prisoners, so that it is cursed and when they need to trade, no one minds parting with it....wow

I'm impressed.
I want to move there.
So I don't know how winter reminded me of the book---except that I was reading it this morning trying not to think of how very cold I was...