things get stranger

My art has taken a weird turn. And writing anything but smut with my husband is a challenge. I don’t know if I am just in a funk, or if this is your art on drugs* kids… But I keep having visions of clay pieces in frames with this’s and thats. But when it comes time to actually paint said pieces I fat finger it and end up with…slop. So that’s a problem.

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*The kind that are legally prescribed to me by my doctor for bipolar. Settle down.

speaking of owls…

I did some more things while cooped up/should be resting but is arting everywhere instead. I made music note shaped wax melts! With (too much) bamboo fragrance, my own dried basil, and soy wax! I call them “Bamboosiled.” Eeee!!!

Oh and this painting came out of a low cycle…

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And this thumbnail doodle comes from a happy place.

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and now I’ma take pics and blog about it

So I’ve been working on this for a while. There are a lot of components here… The weird little gremlins who live in the cage — they are Anxiety and Depression. I made a girly, flowery bed to put them in when I’m done with them, but as with all things when it comes to me, it can’t be contained. I wish it looked as cool in pictures as it does in person, but maybe that’s part of the beauty of it.

The fight for you is all I’ve ever known

I have a hard time letting go.

There was the Barbie that was my very favorite with big purple eyes. Because she was my favorite she was also my little sister’s (the highest form of flattery, they attempted to convince me) and my mom gave the doll to her — probably because I was getting “too old” to play with dolls… I haven’t forgotten about it, or my absolute RAGE.

I put nails in the driveway to try and flat tire my cousin out of going back home to Illinois. I had a really short sighted idea of how that would play out — that she would magically be made to stay forever because of a nail in a tire. Speaking of which, I forced myself to throw up and make a big scene at McCarren Airport in effort to keep my internet boyfriend with me just a little bit longer. And it worked. Back then they let you do things like hop on a later flight and sit with your loved ones at the terminal.

Sometimes lyrics inspire me. I liked this one…I put it at the top. I hope it inspires you. It prompted one more memory in me, but that one will forever be a secret. I promise it’s just as twisted, dark and weird.

It occurs to me that my bipolar diagnosis makes a lot of sense. Insert emoji happy/crying face.

sometimes…

I really have no idea what to say. I don’t know if it’s the medication or just part of the human experience, but all my wit and wonder has dried up. Or maybe now that I am “normal,” I realize it was the mania driving my creativity.

I mean, I’m being dramatic. I’m writing right now and if you ask my husband I’m always writing. But now something feels off. Foreign. Like a new freckle — no, too innocuous — like waking up without an arm.

This strange new world has also affected my art. I can’t think of any paintings lately. Others may tell me to sit down, free style paint and be okay with whatever comes out — but they don’t understand that when Coleymojo sits down to paint she starts with a dain`ty water color type thing and ends up wrist deep finger painting with all sides of the color wheel in on the action.

Anyway, what I HAVE done is a creepy, useless sculpture.

And I love her! I almost want to do nothing else with her but have her beside my bed and call her my muse. I like holding onto her, feeling the smooth spots interrupted by a rough patch… I remember when I built her bones of wire, and how my fingers hurt trying to shape it. At one point her leg fell off. And then I was SO excited to put the clay on — I thought that would be the easy part but I spent days twisting and turning her, pushing fat around, until I looked at her one day and said, “I know we’re not done, but we’re done.”

And then I stuck her in the oven and tried not to cry. Would she survive? But this girl is a badass. Unfortunately for her the saying goes, out of the oven and into the frier…which in this case was my drunken ass dripping paint all over her with exactly zero plans.

Good times.

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(And I guess I was being dramatic about the painting too, because I did this at a class.)

Build it in the Rain

Someone told me that if you pick one wall of a maze and follow it wherever it leads, you will eventually come to the exit. You could end up walking the entire thing, dead ends and all, but you’ll get there.

I guess I could Google it and find out if it’s true. But I’ve come this far, what would be the point in discouraging myself? I’m sure of so few things in my life… Let me have this one. Because if you mean to tell me that I’m lost…