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.
*The kind that are legally prescribed to me by my doctor for bipolar. Settle down.
Just as I was ready to declare I’d never paint again, this popped out. It started off as some weird, late night, drunken paint doodle of a girl and this abstract meets anime black sheep lady face concept (I know) that had to be promptly painted over. The background was basically born out of my love of blue and black cherry paint colors and the struggle to cover up my whoops. And then when I got to the point of the tree I decided it needed something else, so I asked husband dearest what he thought.
“I don’t know why, but I see gazelles.”
Those were inspired by these cute statues we have at work. Actually they are directly plagiarized from the those cute statues at work. I found a picture.
I tried to write some poetry today.
Something about a girl bubbling over.
It was shit.
Just thought everyone should know.
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…
And this thumbnail doodle comes from a happy place.
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.
Stop your surgery scratching
You’re not the doctor
Leave the splinters and pins in the heart where you found them
I’m better off hurting
No more pills more pills more
A functioning melancholic
30 doesn’t mean you’re grown up
Fallen is the star
Insecure of shining
If the others will be brighter
But the dawn came for them all
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.
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…