A Creative Outlet

I've taken over the dining room. One end houses my desk and all of my work stuff--my computer, my files, my books and binders for all of that left brain crap I have to do. Across the (small) room is our round dining room table. Most of the time it's covered with paper, paint, small bits of paper, gesso, gel medium. Tonight, there's a large canvas in the middle of all of it that I've been working for a few weeks now. Eventually I'll get it where I want it. I'm not sure when, though.

This relatively small room houses my creativity. Connected to both the kitchen and the living room, it's smack in the middle of our apartment, a faithful recreation of my brain in a single space. I'm grateful for it, as I'm grateful for my husband, my daughters, the good life I'm building for myself.

Strange Bedfellows

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and Audrey Kawaski make strange bedfellows. Apparently it was a combo of Harry's Merpeople and Audrey's paintings that inspired this, although I can't say exactly how that happened. It may have also been the salsa and chips.

Family Life

A sort of Dorian Gray approach to family dysfunction. I kind of like the idea that family freakiness could be revealed in a portrait. No more hiding for those who would have the world believe that they are "perfect."

Untitled II

I really like how this one turned out. It's one of those pieces that came together as though I'd actually planned it.

May Not Look

Telling me that I "may not look," is like begging me to peek. . .

The girls and I were talking in the car the other day. One of their friends babysat for a teacher and "discovered" a Halloween porn tape in the VCR. We briefly discussed how uncomfortable it was for the friend to now be around the teacher (yeah, I'll bet!) and then started talking about snooping through people's houses when you babysit for them. I had to admit that when I was a kid, I often would go through the parents' bedroom, hunting for anything that would tell me who these people were. I was fascinated by the finds, but it also made me a little squeamish when they came home. Did I really want to know that the Dad had piles of Hustlers next to the bed and the wife had some major lingerie? Yes and no.

Anyway. . . this was why I was often uncomfortable with babysitters when the girls were younger. Not because we had anything to hide, but just because I didn't like the idea of people going through my things.

I wonder how many other people snooped when they babysat?

She Wondered

I think about this a lot--whether or not we ever really know who we are. I feel like so many different people at once. And it feels like I'm always rediscovering myself. I'll write things in my journal and what I've discovered will be an epiphany. Then I'll read old journals and see that I had a similar realization a year ago. I haven't figured out if I'm just deepening my knowledge of myself every time I have one of these or if I'm just getting old.

Illustration Friday--Tattoo II

Not quite sure where this one came from, but sometimes we just don't know. . .

Illustration Friday--Tattoo

This is an old piece, but in looking through my files for something, it seemed a perfect illustration for this week's topic. I was always struck by the scars (a form of tattooing) on the man's face. If you look closely at the shape of the cut-out for the woman, you can see that it's a couple standing together, which for me was emblematic of the ways in which slavery tore families apart. The image of the boat actually shows how slave ship owners could pack more people into the hold of a ship. Not unlike how we pack people into the ghetto now.

I'm Wild

I was going to do my usual, put some words to the music here, but then I decided I'd go nuts. I'm writing nothing. Figure out for yourselves why the look of surprise.

The Party III

The Party II

The Party I

Strange Fascination

I like pieces of faces. That is, I like how it looks when I cut something out, accidentally leaving a portion of a drawing on the other side of the paper. I also like the serendipity of collaging small pieces of found paper. Sometimes this works better than others. This is one of the times I liked how it turned out.

Vacation Pics

The vacation photos proved that their paranoia was not entirely unfounded.

How My Husband's Brain Works

Darvin: "Do you ever worry that you're painting ghosts?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Darvin: "Well, all of your faces have such haunted eyes. What if you're drawing ghosts?"

What if I am?