Adventures in Artistry- Life as a starting out Artist
I started this blog to talk about where my adventures and my work as an artist take me, as well as to narrate everyday life in the studio, or what have you.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Social Weening
Monday, January 27, 2014
yolo.
I've been pouring through craiglist ads looking for a cheap desk that I find remotely aesthetically appealing. I've spotted a few, but haven't stumbled on any I want to commit to. I will probably need to get a table as well and maybe a book shelf to house things. I've brought over my old cork board, so I'll need to start pinning things up soon-- collecting random clippings and momentos.
Another thing on my list is to start using sketch books again and doing a little collage work here and there. I found an old one that actually spanned most of my college years. I was going through it the other night and remembered how much I actually liked using sketchbooks. It made me think of how much more different my life was 3 years ago and how much happier I was then. I guess I've sort of hit a wall. I know what I need to do, and that's get back on the art wagon in one way or another. I'm a much happier person when I'm making.
In recent history, a person I knew had told me that they had no hobbies and that they thought they were a waste of time. Coincidentally, that person turned out to be a waste of time. Don't be that person. Hobbies are normally a way to explore your interests. A person with no hobbies isn't interesting. I'm sure there's some relative witty quote I could insert here from Mark Twain or Oscar Wilde. Pretty damn sure. Instead, I will close this with a qoute from Candy Darling that I feel sums up the state of things in my life currently:
"Dear Diary, I try to get what I want, whenever it's possible. I have always found that socially unacceptable people make the best lovers because they are more sensitive. I can be happy and fulfilled. I will never doubt it. I can not afford to. Each thought, each movement turned into a great moving force. Love Candy."
And with that, I begin my motion forward to manifest my destiny.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Dreams
I had an odd dream last night that I was going to go back to school to become a botanist, but that was only after I dreamt of thinking about going to get my teaching certificate. That part of the dream was disturbing to me... I visited a school that was pretty much a series of motor homes. I went to the rv where my niece had kindergarten, and was greeted by the teacher, an early twenties-something woman, who coincidentally had no nostrils to speak of. After climbing aboard, I noticed the obvious flaw between the volume of the coach verses what appeared to be the volume when I had viewed it from outside-- it was much more massive than the width of a single lane. Further surprising was that inside of this massive mobile classroom was my grandfather. He's been dead for over three years now, which isn't really surprising at all; but, I don't commonly dream of dead people, or people in my family. He was smiling around all the children, but he was like he was just before he died. He had had a fever that damaged his brain a few years before he passed, and it left him in a state of mind where he always reminded me of a child. His entire memory of everything after 1982 had been almost entirely wiped clear. I always thought he pretended to know me because of the way he acted when he first had recovered from his fever. I think in truth, if he did remember me, he was probably embarrassed that in all the years I lived in his home and visited, that he honestly knew nothing about me, but rather only knew the idea of who he wanted me to be. When I was a senior in high school, he had to give me a ride home from his house. With traffic, it took nearly 45 minutes to traverse the five miles to my father's house. In that 45 minutes, my grandfather held me captive to his lecture on me going to college for computers. I responded to him that I wanted to do something with art, but computers kept flowing from his mouth like winged razor blades into my ears. Once we arrived in my father's driveway, it only continued for another 45 minutes. I sat there with my hand on the door handle, giving off every possible polite indication that I was ready to exit that tiny saturn and leave that one-sided conversation inside it, but it just kept going. Knowing freedom was a mere 15-20 feet from me, and being able to see it, was truly tormenting. My point is that he didn't have a single clue. Oddly enough, it wasn't until after his fever that he would randomly offer up compliments and support for my chosen career. the dream made me feel awkward for many reasons, but mainly because it made me remember that incident, and because of how many opposites there were. All of the children were sitting in a horse shoe formation in front of him, and he was smiling the way he did after the fever (a genuine, unforced smile). He was occasionally clapping his hands when he laughed and getting tested by the children. I had to wake up for work at this point, but I just remember walking around them and staring at him, because he's dead, but he was there. he was exactly how he looked pre-mortem, down to the curly side hair and every liver spot, like it wasn't a dream-- I felt like I could reach out and poke him. I'm not going to get into the semantics of our relationship, but having him show up in my dreams that vividly is enough to bother me for weeks. Even more so that it was in a dream where I was thinking about going back to school.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A little low and feeling out the world
I haven't written in this for a while. Strange enough, it seems like six months of my life have melted away into some meaningless notion of empty adulthood. The more I become introspective about it, the more it bothers me. I've known people who have gotten into this pattern and never come out. I can't do this for very much longer. I guess one could say that I am not cut out for working mundane jobs or just always having the same thing happen to me.
I started taking chantix two weeks ago, but I keep slipping up. I've cut back on smoking by quite a lot. I can go the whole day without anything. I just keep buying cigars in the strange hope they'll make me feel better when I feel depressed (a growing trend these days). I want to smoke more when I have some emotional turmoil. It's sort of like a checks and balances type thing-- I think smoking is to me what scissors are to a cutter, which makes quitting so much harder. The pills make it taste horrid, and I no longer get the comforting rush anymore. It smells terrible as well. I can't believe I didn't notice how gross it was while I was doing it. I could say the same for some people I've dated.
And I leave you with some mogpoj gibberish:
Turn away, turn away my only son.
You've had your fun, now the damage is done.
You can love her and leave her, but you can't make her stay--
Oh son, spare yourself and just turn away.
You turn your cheek when you hear them say,"it'll get better some sunny day"
They spat in your face and you just smiled away.
It can always be worse, then night turns to day.
Turn your cheek and just look away.
My son, better things are coming your way.
They may laugh in your face, but it's better that way.
Turn your cheek son and find your own way.
Moments are measured in blood and mistakes made of fear.
When the time comes, we all fall as hard. The unknowing means nothing when it's known to be variable.
son you're as big as a mountain-- no man you will follow.
And to discredit any hint of seriousness, I've included a Mowgli pic.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
So much waiting!
Among other things, the last 2 months have started to get to me. Last night I went out with two of my lady friends to go see some industrial bands. Serendipity smiled upon us, and I once again remember how wonderful life can be. It's so easy to forget when you're somewhat in between a rock and a hard place. I'm just hoping the after glow will stay with me for a long time. Joy, even when exposed in small amounts, should never have a half life.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
New Job 2012
Hellllo Dolly! |
I'm pretty excited about having a job for the first time in two years. I'm doubly excited that it's not in retail or fast food. Within the next couple months, I'm going to start looking for equipment to start setting up a studio. I never had a kiln or a wheel of my own before. The thought of it is pretty exciting... I can only imagine it's similar to the feeling of buying your first house, or having a kid... or something. I've been doing some sleuthing around town and in STL to see what kind of studio space I can get within my budget. There really isn't a place in my home to set up shop. The whole basement has a coating of super-fine saw dust on everything. I'd be afraid to fire a kiln here-- the whole house would go up like a tinder box.
^^Life^^ (it tastes good like that) |
I couldn't sleep the other night, so I partook in my normal "lay there with the television on hoping that it will make me fall asleep by shooting my insomnia with plasma rays--but i know that's not why they call it a plasma tv..." ritual. For some reason, the screen froze, so i started changing channels to see if they were all like that. Only half of them were. I stopped on Turner Classic movies, and had just enough time to snap this image before the television world started turning. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Sorry for the insanely long haitus.
Fig. 1 Easter Egg #2 (intergalactic travel) |
Fig. 2 Easter Egg #3 (The presumptuous Author speaks) |
So for a little back tracking-- I had a very nice christmas back home with my family. I was bestowed a lot of kitchen gadgets, and in all the colors of the rainbow! I got so excited about my new set of spatulas and spoons, that I put away most of what dad had in his utensil pot and put my own in. I also got a set of prep bowls, a submersible mixer, a couple of fancy knives, and an awesome silicone whisk (which is also rainbow colored).
NOM NOM NOM!!! |
Surely this race of giant pop tarts will rise up and destroy us all!!! |
And for those of you who made it this far and wondered about the whereabouts of Easter Egg #1,
I present to you Fig. 3:
Fig. 3 Easter Egg #1 (The "Grad school gets you more sex further down the line" argument.) |