Hahaha! Hey, y'all!

Learn Spanish
Color in a coloring book
Ride in a helicopter
Pilot a plane
Travel to:
Japan
Amsterdam
San Francisco
Savannah
NYC
Montana
Seattle
Province town
Juneau
Paris
Niagara Falls
Germany
Italy
Greece
Kazakhstan
India

and also:
Volcanoes
Pyramids
Caves at Lascaux
India
Write a book
Ride all the roller coasters
Zip line

Thank you, MaryAlice

Daily Hauntings

My past chases me wherever I go, interjecting insecurity into just about every situation. I am damaged goods to most, a victim, although now an adult, who should be way over some things. It amazes me how hard I have already worked and how much more there is to go.

I am full of misunderstandings, but the worst is simple self-indulgence. I am nearly always certain that everything is my fault. Guess this makes it easier to take responsibility, but also a way of obtaining control in a world that seems crazily topsy-turvy or excruciatingly banal.

Lacking a good moral compass, I flounder around working toward some ill-defined goal, trying to have integrity and failing. Repeatedly.

So, I am all about me? Who else though, do I have to hang out with year after year, night after night. I am the common denominator, after all, in my failed relationships. So then, shouldn't I figure out a way to indulge or even think about the me that is?

"Am I pretty?"
"Am I pretty?"
"Am I pretty?"

My tennis shoes are lost somewhere. How am I going to swing without them? I won't be able to see thier outline against the afternoon sky.

Lost, time, money, child.
Lovers, hands, meaning, twins.
Beards, spit, God, mother.
Medication, space, quiet, blood.

And a wedding dress with no shoes. Isn't it harder for a barefooted woman to flee?

There is a beautiful place in here, a beautiful space, but it is just right beside that other place, too. That black place that I have bandaged and rebandaged. It feels farther away most of the time until something hurts, then it all comes pouring back onto me like pancake batter made of shit. And the ugliness comes spewing out. I fight her back, I cram things into her mouth to shut her up. There are only a couple of people who know her, that me.

I am bringing the bible to my studio to serve as a sort of totem. Perhaps I will also find a copy of the Qu'ran or the Torah. Again, I am unsure, just wandering aimlessly through this microcosm, trying to see what was so frightening as a child.

I am smarter than being a __________. Although I am deeply emotional and intuitive, it still seems, well, kinda juvenile. Do people really need these regulations? I mean, are they really that incapable of figuring things out on their own or from each other?

Santa Claus was a good idea at the time, I reckon. And I believed in him whole-heartedly. It was magic. I have been told that I, too, can have magic. But, don't you have to actually believe in the magic for it to work?

Peace, peach, lust.
Rib, feminist, sharpie.
Depth, key, penetration.

There will always be a man standing behind a door waiting, peeking through the crack, shaking and catching his breath as I turn. I will always be youthful and sexualized and powerless. Is it Santa or God?

Do you think that I can get some of that magic inside me? Can I get it in there? Will it reach that spot that I so often have to hire out for? Jesus, can you actually save me?

Johnathan & David

Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that [was] upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle....I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. 1 Samuel 18:3-4 & 2 Samuel 1:26

Scanning the landscape of his body

This is the scan of the tumor after 4 months of chemotherapy. In the middle you see the spine coming down, then the kidneys on either side, below that the butterfly of the hip structure. And in the midle of that, the bright light.....the tumor. When we started the tumor was 3cm in diameter. It's bigger: BIGGER. It never dawned on me that would be possible. I imagined a skip lesion happening, metastatic lesions in the lungs, but not a bigger tumor. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I guess we arent getting any surgery this month. Just more chemo. Now we will begin the ifosfomide and atoposide. Yipee, new frontiers of puking, shitting and bleeding!

I miss my kid. I just wish he was coming home drunk or something, so that I could give him a lecture.....His quiet, peacefull sleeping is killing me.

DISAPPEAR

Today i am invisible except for the tightness in my left shoulder. (My sister says that we all share this same ailment, the women in our family.) I wanted so badly to just dissolve into the background this past year. Nathan's Illness has provided the perfect opportunity to do just that. I have successfully removed myself from any and all connection to the outside world, outside the hospital anyway. I watch movies, the news and read books. I only see my mom and my sister, nurses and the occasional doctor. There is also a social worker who lurks around looking for ways to criticize how I am caregiving. It is really annoying. Yes, he really just wants to freaking sleep! No, he isnt unduly depressed. He is pissed because he is nauseous all the freaking time! Yes, I understand that you did all this WAY differently, but this is the way WE are doing it. I am following NATHAN's cues. He expects me to talk to doctors, nurses and advocate for him while he is busy healing, etc.

I am spending nearly every waking moment with him. I am not a martyr, though. Just doing what I want to, being his mom. Making up for lost time. Enjoying looking over and he is just right there. I can't make him better, but I damn sure can make him comfortable.

Do you think I am actually naive enough to think that he will survive this? Nah, I know that he is probably going to die. Not today though, so today will just simply have to be as good as it can be, especially if I have some part in that. I just want to do everything for him that he wants...and he wants me here. period.

I want to get him out of the hospital, away from the chemo, away from the germs, away from piss and shit and vomit and really bad food. I want to take him to the ocean, to walk the coast in the sun, let the salt dissolve what is left of the tumor.

I want to help him escape, to disappear, without actually dying.

Osteogenic Sarcoma: Osteosarcoma

Time: My child, who is supposed to be grown at 20, was recently diagnosed with bone cancer. I say recently because it seems like just a second ago, but it was actually nearly 4 months ago. Time just keeps passing by us so quickly. Neither one of us were very good at keeping up with what day it was as we are both creative thinkers and idealists and any time is a good time. Only, no time is a good time for cancer.

Words: Osteosarcoma was the first big word I heard that I didn't love. I have had a love affair with words since I was little and won that ice cream for reading chrysanthemum in class. In fourth grade I never dreamed that I would have a child growing up. I had planned my life around traveling the globe, learning new words, languages and cultures. There have been many surprises along the way, but Nathan was my favorite. He was a little wordsmith from the beginning and taught me patience, kindness, love, strength and determination. Since he was diagnosed I have learned that I have been a really great parent so far. It really pisses me off that we have worked so hard together to end up in a hospital. Together we have learned words like malignant (not so far), cisplatin, methotrexate and the true meaning of exhaustion. One of his nurses tells me that I will know more about osteosarcoma than she does by the time all this is over. Every day, I search the internet, for words that could lead to comfort or a cure. Clinical trials, wheatgrass and some crazy hospital in Southern California are no help, but I am storing the information in the back of my head, just in case.

Just in case: I don't usually prepare for much. I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kinda girl. Nathan has done well with this kind of parenting since he is pretty easy-going and always welcomed change. Not like some of my friends' kids who freaked out if you took them to McD's instead of BK. When he was little, I was always just hopping in the car and saying, "Hey, let's go for a ride and see where the car takes us!" Nathan always said, "Ok, Mom, let's go!" We would decide when we got there. This hospital stuff has forced us to plan. We have to both think of how what we are doing right now will affect us in a few minutes or hours. We are trappd in this cell of a hospital room, trying not to be bored out of our minds. We watch endless hours of tv, movies online and play the occasional video game: when he feels up to it. When he doesn't, I watch him sleep. I count his respirations, like I have seen the nurses do. Sometimes he only breathes 9-10 times a minute. When he pauses, I wonder if he is going to breathe again. I am saving up these times, just in case. I look at him and try to burn his face into my mind, just in case. I have lost a lot of people to death, accidents, illness and suicide. And I know that part of the healing process is allowing yourself to let part of them go. For me, the most disturbing part of letting someone go is forgetting what they look like. I can't imagine that I will ever forget my child's face. But, it has changed so much over the years, from bright-eyed little boy who believed that I was magic to disilliusioned teenager who thought I could do nothing right. And now, finally, this wise, thin, beautiful angel with fair skin and no hair. I look at him, stare, just in case. Because I know that osteosarcoma takes 40% of its victims. The ones with the best chances, could still die. I mean, if there was a 60% chance of rain, wouldn't you bring an umbrella? If his next bone scan reveals that this has metastesized, his chances drop even more. I have always been an optimist, I really have, but I am not stupid and I cant pretend that he might not make it. So, unlike myself, I try to prepare what I will never be ready for.

Words: fungus, virus, bacteria. I never imagined that these words, familiar words, scientific words that conjured up images of class projects made of styrofoam and tempera paint, could be so frightening. They are supposed to remind me of fun words like endoplasmic reticulum. How can these tiny words match up to something as strong as my son? Well, for one thing even a tiny infection can cause big problems...even if it is only to slow down the process of chemotherapy. Twice we have battled with thrush (candida) so bad that he could hardly swallow. And once, it kept him from getting a much needed feeding tube in his stomach. And, god forbid, his immunodeficient system should come into contact with mrsa or some other hospital acquired illness. These tiny things could all kill him. Yet, we are here, day in and day out. I wish we were safer.

Time: Showers used to be the time when I would think about ideas. I would let my mind wander, sometimes figuring things out in my paintings, sometimes in my daily life and sometimes where I had screwed up along the way. Regardless, it was a time to relax and let my mind unwind. Now showers are frantic races. I am always listening with one ear, with the door open, just like when he was little and into everything. I have to be careful that I dont miss a pee queue or we will be changing sheets and gowns, etc. I scramble to wash/rinse my hair fast so that my ears arent under the water too long. Plus, what if he just doesn't make it through my next shower? I better hurry, just in case. Now, showers have become a place to let my tears flow freely. I am not required to be strong because no one can see me cry in there. But,my long, luxurious time spent in the shower has now become 5 minutes of intense crying, anger and fear.

I am hoping that writing about what is happening here will help. My life has changed so completely in these last few minutes/months. I know that I will never be the same. I am lucky that I have had the opportunity to love such a great kid. And I am grateful that he is still alive. But, I really just wish he would wake up and be fine.

Women I love: Catherine Opie, Harry Dodge, Daniela Sea

Hear what I'm saying?

inside the inside

Dear Cloe,

I know that you wonder if people are out there listening...well, we are. I am thrilled to find your boxes and words. You make the world seem as dark and mysterious as the one in my head. I finger buttons all the time absently wondering how the physics of them manages to hold the waist of my pants together. I pop them so often it seems like sport. I come up with a zillion ingenious ways to keep my pants closed (don't worry, they won't fall down, I am quite chubby in the middle and my hips are ample and wide and nothing gets past them). I like the smoothness of buttons and the bump in the middle from the thread. It reminds me of a pillow case my grandmother had. It had tiny knots all over it in the shape of a grid and where it wasn't knotted, it was silky.

If you ever need a place to drop off your notes, leave them here with me.

http://clohistory.wordpress.com/

Oh, yeah...Lesbians for Supper

Lucky me, I am getting to know the lgbt community here in Chattanooga. This is my material, the work I do, the life I enjoy. I am hoping that my introduction into this part of the community yields some sort of client relationship between me and my target audience. I spent the better part of last evening with a new, young couple who are fun, brilliant and full of those crazy-in-love chemicals. It was refreshing to talk to someone who is viewing the community with new eyes. S is the least experienced of the two and this is her first girlfriend, so she is thinking in terms of not necessarily lesbian, but more specifically 'in love with her and she just happens to be female.' This is an interesting phenomenon that I have witnessed countless times in young, femme women. Butch girls seem to find out and accept who they are easier and way earlier. (Look, I am not generalizing, seriously, I am just talking about the tomboyish girls, so don't get your panties in a wad.)

I was one of those more femme girls: in dance, ballet, tap, played with dolls and dress-up and makeup and house. I was one who had been taught that when you grow up, you get married and have babies and treat your man right. In spite of the fact that my mother was a big feminist back in the 70's, her message still wasn't as strong as society's main message to the young women I knew. Since I didn't play sports or hang out with guys in a one-on-one friend kinda way, I was not privy to gross talks about being a "carpetmuncher" or "lizzy" like my more tomboy counterparts. I simply had never even heard about being a lesbian until I was in high school. And even then there was no dialogue outside of overhearing someone say that "Susan in biology...is a lizzy, i think she likes you, eeeewwww!!"

I am hoping to just hang out here in the South and spread my good lesbian cheer around by being very out and about so that young people, like I once was, may have someone to look up to. It's about educating one person at a time and sharing the wealth of love I have learned from women.

Taking my own pulse

Well I am here but I am scared. I dont know what to do next. I am not sure what go with the flow means.....What is the flow? This is infiltrating so much of my thinking.

Thumbsuckers and Southern Comfort

When did I first turn to loneliness for comfort? When did my isolation before bring me such pleasure and warmth? Why must the darkest part of me succeed in bringing me lower and lower until I am breathing in the dirt that was once beneath my feet?

God has forsaken me....And I have forsaken myself. How will I ever be true when I am so fake, so empty. This then is that empty pool that shelley, emily and amy spoke of. In here, where everything is bleak and dry, I clutch my hand to my chest digging, hoping for there to be something more than nothing. Jealous, envious and alone, I have begged God to just take me away from the misery, for he is the only one that can separate me from myself.

Perhaps that is why I have chosen to be atheist? Because I give up entirely my power over self and sit like a lady in waiting, just wishing for someone to come along on a fine steed and help me down out of this self-made tower. How many years has it taken me to dig that moat, to plant those thorns? Thousands, twenty-five, maybe.

Fuck this thinking....I am going back to my movie watching, drinking and checking out for a few hours. Thank God for mass media, the Internet and a well-brewed glass of something cold.

Letter to myself

I cant believe that i finally made it. I am going to be fine, ok and great! How did I luck up on being ok? Well, I guess it was lots and lots of really hard work. I have been praying these last few days that I would get some kind of peace from my current situation.

How could I have been so silly to just jump like that, you ask? Well, i figured, what the hell? I mean, what did i really have to lose? Nothing! I just wanted to see what would happen and now i will always know and not just wonder what might have been. I really loved my fantasy life...It was quite beautiful and fun, but I dont miss that part of it, because I still have me. I am good in here. I feel centered and quiet on the inside. Not nervous and shaky and scared. Just quiet and peaceful. I feel extremely fortunate to have survived the things I have in the last few years. My old ghosts were fighting hard to overcome my thinking. But, I have persevered and conquered them. In my mind, i found a quiet place and i have taught myself to sit and listen and shush the ugly voices that tell me that everything is wrong or stupid. I guess i finally found the thing i was looking for so many years ago when i was sitting under that little tree in the grass, just listening. I knew it was possible, but I just didnt know how to get there. There was not a map from A-Z just the possibility that Z was there. I have since, over the years, drawn that map (sometimes in piss and blood, sometimes in paint, sometimes in chocolate syrup).

Wherever I was supposed to be going, I feel like I am on the way now. Just floating downstream into the future that welcomes me with warm arms and a full belly.

Good job, Laura, we did it.

I love you.

Thank you, Emily

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part One: Life XIII

THE SOUL selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.
Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing	5
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
I ’ve known her from an ample nation
Choose one;	10
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

New Favorite

http://3quarksdaily.blogs.com/3quarksdaily/2006/01/index.html

Word Portrait

Strong, husky-voice
masculine features
tough
the boss
top
giver
genius
Trivia winner
mis-pronouncer
smoker
butch
sporty
chicken (ha!)

Dichotomy

Hey, what can I say here? I am in heaven. I am scared to death and grinning like a fucking lunatic.

I love moving....I am working on finding a house here in the neighborhood where I live. I want to walk to work every day and hang out by the river. How cool would that be?

So, this dichotomy that I am supposed to be working on....One side of me says, "your work is valid, lyrical and beautiful." The other says, "What? This crap? Who would buy this? Who would want this hanging on their wall? No one in their right mind, that's who!"

I am supposed to come to some sort of terms with these two very distinct and arguing parts of myself.

Maybe we should make a list:

Yeah
My work is beautiful. My drawing skills are exquisite. When I make a mark, I do it with my entire soul. The music in the work sings. The work is unique because it expresses this person (me) at this particular time (now) in history. And since I am different and smarter than your average bear, the work is very important to describe history. As a lesbian, as a Southerner, as a former Christian, as a previously physically and sexually abused girl, as a victim, as a survivor, as an entrepreneur, as a leader, as a capable woman who has chosen abortion twice over children just to do her work.

I have invested so much time and a degree to this work, the least I could do is make it work for me.

Oh, yeah, and it's fun. I really like making things.

Nay
My work is unfinished. Unframed. Not cohesive. Not a body of work. Hard to understand. Cryptic. So out of touch with reality no one will understand it. Too 'highbrow' or, yeah, right, not even good enough to be considered lowbrow or folk.
Many of the paintings still have issues that need to be resolved.
Fucking studio? I am paying $200 a month to have an empty space that I rarely go to. Dunno if it is really worth it. And, Gloria knows the combination anyway.

OMG, i need coffee.

I want a house with wood floors that is cozy and small and easy to clean with a small back yard that hopefully backs up to the woods. A fireplace would be really sweet and air conditioning is not optional.

gee

Weakness In Me - Melissa Etheridge

Oh, yeah i have that one.

How to Survive and Prosper as an Artist: Selling Yourself without Selling your Soul

Caroll Michels

Van Morrison's Moondance Lyrics

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush


Can I just have one more Moondance with you, my love
Can I just make some more romance with you, my love

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait 'til the morning has come
And I know that the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
And when you come my heart will be waiting
To make sure that you're never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own
And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me that you can't hide

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

One more Moondance with you in the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la in the moonlight
On a magic night
Can't I just have one more dance with you my love

......Of course.

Sylvie Fortin

Cornell West (public intellectual)
Writing vs. Curating
Emerging Curators
Anachronism
Building Frenzies
University of Syracuse
UCLA
Ghetty Foundation

Where are the arts journalists?

Switzerland
Germany

What I am doing or dreaming of doing

For Lynden Cline the catalyst

There was the conversation about the brother.....taking time to listen to others' description of what a brother is instead of immediately picturing our own.

Then we talked about 3 Words, 5 Minutes which I will more than likely use as a title for one of my future pieces.


Then I shared the poem Not Waving, But Drowning because of your collaborative piece Drowning from the Inside....thank you especially for that one.

Drowning from the Inside
Lynden Cline (photo by

Ok, so a painting by Monday? Lots of pressure, I reckon, but I am up for the challenge.

4 Bridges poster
The Flower Guy and Lou Gehrig's

Movies:
The Diving Bell-- with words ;) and Jean Doe
Wings of Desire--Wim Wenders

Drawing movie Mirrormask
Persopolis, Closetland, Donnie Darko, Don Juan Demarco
Secret Window
Books:
Writing Down the Bones

Throwing books like Art & Fear

Dirt stories.....note--don't take Lynden's dirt!

New Happenings in the life

Yesterday was another really good day.......I wonder how I am lucky enough to have so many of these days in a row. I have heard that you should never look a gift horse in the mouth and since that sounds very funny, but dangerous, I do it every time.

The day started at the studio, where I began a larger than life sized drawing on my studio wall, read a little art history about the body from cave drawings to modern art and luckily found out about a little art gathering that was to take place at Rivoli last night. I relish my time at the studio. It never fails that when I leave there, I feel both energized and relaxed. The work that I am currently doing isn't harsh and heavy like some of my previous work. I keep having these fantastic lucid dreams and they are having a direct effect on everything I am doing.

My son came to work today to volunteer so that I could go to the Bill Thelen (a.k.a. Lump Lipshitz) Lecture. It was enlightening and inspiring to hear about an artist who has succeeded in the art world on his own terms. Bill's talk was vague, cerebral and comfortingly awkward. I want a t-shirt. You can see some of his gallery's work and his work at teamlump.org. I think I will start my own collective....If you are interested in joining, drop me a line.

The highlight of my day was hanging out at the studio after the lecture. There was an impromptu art party there, which I would like to call "Drumming Session Number One" because of the great live music. I didn't realize that on top of being fantastic artisans, Rivoli has fantastic musicians to boot! I met some wonderful new folks including, but not limited to a fabulous jeweler and her husband. Much to my surprise, this jeweler has been next door to me at InTown Gallery for quite some time. She is an avid blogger like me and has already added a link to avasource.blogspot.com. I am absolutely thrilled!
This picture is for Mr and Ms Florer....it is a page right out of Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children, that comic series collection I was telling you both about. I wish Olga was lying on a couch....

Mad World- Gary Jules from Donnie Darko

Falling Slowly- From the movie Once- The Frames

Alison- Elvis Costello

Wading Through Jello

These last few months have been crazy slow. It seems as though it is impossible to get this business of art off the ground. But, suddenly, I am lucky enough to get my brain around some incredibly useful tools (like google analytics) and between that and learning some basic html, my brain has opened up again.

The paintings that I have been constructing (mostly in my head) are indirectly related. The breakthrough has pushed my always researching mind into create mode! Sometimes it feels like magic when I am creating, but I know that painting is a byproduct of the wonderful amounts of input I get. I don't believe that the brain ever stops making new connections.

I have been courted by a publisher who is asking to use one of my paintings as a book cover. This news has finally proved to me that I won't have to rely on some lucky young woman coming across my work in a long-forgotten trunk to make an impact on the world. It also means that I will have to go to disney world, visit the cinderella castle and yell out, "Ok, ok, I do believe!" And now I have to figure out how in the world did Cambridge University press find me?

Inspiration from a Fellow Blogger

"You can feel 'safe' you know the white picket fence American dream, but every utopia has to have a jail and a graveyard: you're safer finding danger than wasting your time protecting yourself from it."

Practical advice from a quotable lifeguard.

fkfkfkfkfk no there isnt a way around the way i have to go fkfkfkfk

sickandtireandsickandtiredandsickandtiredandmad

aroomofonesown lie

iwillnotpanic

2yearstogobeforetherv?

Guilt: Contrapasso Modern Dance

Indigo Girls: Romeo & Juliette

Melissa Ferrick's Drive

GLBT History Month

I have been back here in Chattanooga for over a year and was not aware that Bessie Smith was bisexual. What a rich history I was missing out on! Maybe you will see someone on here that you can relate to. I have loved her music since I first heard her. She was a major influence on one of my other favs Janis Joplin. Seems like something I should have just known....

Chattanooga has an entire hall dedicated to Bessie Smith, not to mention the annual Bessie Smith Strut. Wonder how many 'noogans are aware of this gay factoid?

Happy GLBT History Month! I feel extra gay after reading up on all this fabulous history.

Hugs to all the stone butches in the world. Especially my favorite: you know who you are.

Ok, I know, it's just the funniest pic ever.

I am currently searching the world (internet and otherwise) for images of strong, butch women. Apparently I haven't the foggiest idea how to find anything. I keep digging and digging and to tell you the truth, I am going to have to become a photographer. I need images to reference when painting (and for my own viewing pleasure, of course). This is precisely why I am working on paintings about strong women. There just aren't enough out there.

Here are a few cool places I did find some cool les pics: http://www.sappho.com/art/ByTimePeriod.html

New Work

Dichotomy Series:
Tender/Tough
These are two in a series of 8 at this point. There is quite a bit of dialogue between the pieces. Boxers, wrestlers and reclining figures.

Happy Painting

Today, with the help of the North Shore community and many visitors, we created a mural in from of the Association for Visual Arts. I found joy in sharing the love I have for painting with everyone around and I met some great folks, too!

The Market Street Bridge is opening for business tomorrow and everyone is out celebrating today. I will post some pics tomorrow of the work.

Bingeing and Purging

Your work reminds me of high school when I was fat....Well, not really, I actually weighed less than I should but was convinced that I was bulging out of everything. I remember reading a novel once about a woman who found her body to be comfortable and beautiful, just the way you describe yourself. It was so completely foreign to me to read those words and I longed to feel the same way.

When I go back and look at images of myself, I am amazed at how completely beautiful I was and the disparity between how I looked and how I felt is alarming. I think this work is important and is a more accurate recording of history than historians will create.

I remember meeting you when you did your "dress me sexy" work. You looked very pretty the day I talked to you and I remember wondering if I should paint you into the work I was doing. Most of my work is about the female body. I paint the figure over and over again trying to capture what it means to be me both now and when I was younger and had a very distorted body image.

I am also working on a series of works about butch women. I am a feminine lesbian who happens to be amazed and in love with the butch mystique (whether male or female) and am using images of wrestlers.....old women wrestlers from the 50's, modern kick boxers and ultimate fighting participants.

Thank you for sharing your work. I really enjoy it even though I find the images, the idea of being paris hilton, the idea of this vacant girl we assume has nothing in her head, very disturbing. As a girl who was told over and over again that I was "too pretty to cry" I know for a fact there is more there than she will ever let us see.

You can view Laura Milkins work at www.myspace.com/lauramilkins or at lauramilkins.com/

While calculating the probability of actually completing a sentence,
I reflected on the cost of water.

She turned to me and said,

"It couldn't have been you there. I am sure it had to be someone else. Although, she really did look like you, it is very unlikely we were ever in the same place at the same time."

As if I didn't know where I had been! I can't believe that she can just snow herself into thinking that. How bad is it if you lie to yourself repeatedly? When do you actually lose touch with reality completely? She was standing there beside me....I could never forget that profile. She has these brilliant green eyes: kind, but hiding a deep intelligence and sadness about the world. I coulda been a goner right then and there, but she just smiled a weary smile reserved for anyone who happened to be in her line of sight at the time. I knew that she was either busy or unavailable in that moment and left it alone. I dunno, I was smoky and bloated from the beer...not my best pickup look.

If only I could have known how much I would love her later. I would have grabbed her by her face and made her look at me.

I don't care what she says, I can still see her in that red dress, barefoot on the beach. Why did she do this? How can she make such a quick decision? She must just be terrified and in denial. Doesn't she understand that I am what is best for her?

We could spend our days discussing art and contemplating the universe! Isn't that what she needs? Isn't that what she wants? Me arranging everything for her while she writes and paints, free from all other distractions? Damn her.

Gertrude and Alice

The entire Chattanooga Locomotion team is full of strong, butch women. How in the heck did I miss that? I am one second from running out the door and right down to wherever they are. How can I get in the middle of that dogpile? I wanna be a rabbit. I know that everything nice that happens to me is because of some wonderful, kind thing I did, right? Isn't that the cosmic way? Yeah, whatever, it seems like when I am at my baddest, I am at my best. Why is it that I have to choose between good Laura and my evil twin? I am gushy, squishy, messy and happy about it. Why do I insist on forcing myself into this corseted way of being when I just want to run and dance and sing? Who is the boss of me? I'll tell ya: the person that gives me money to pay my bills. Damn them. I could try the teenage eating disorder way outta this and control my life by deciding what happens to my body. I am simply too lazy to go to the trouble and what If I get all terrible skinny like anna nicole. She was way squishy-hot before trying the deathdiet crap.

I got this. I mean, I got it. I have figured out that things are just going to keep happening and I am going to have HAVE to get into trouble. I just can't help myself. I try and try to be good, but it is so very boring and I get so desperate. Maybe working out will help. Maybe making work will help. It just seems like the only thing that really does the trick is doing tricks (or turning them). See, there is all this water here and all this green, everything blooming, growing, squeezing out. That is what keeps happening to me. I just get full and it all comes pouring out.

Come and grab this, flip up the skirt and fly in from behind.

Update

This is the updated version. The photo is pretty bad, but it is late and there is no light 'cept for the flashbulb here. I will change this out tomorrow and add some other stuff that I am working on.

Update

Witches

There are witches in the hills calling my name
saying come join us sister, come kiss the flame
"Come dance in the moonbeams, ride the night wind
make love to the darkness and laugh at man's sins
I shiver with delight, I shiver with fear
my heart wants to go but my soul's filled with fear
So I turn to my lover and ask what do I do
do I answer their call or stay here with you
But under spell of deep sleep he moans and turns away
taking his protection and my desire to stay
So I rise to the hill tops, I ride the night winds
I make love to the darkness and laugh at man's sins."

Witches
by Cowboy Junkies
The Caution Horses

Drawing

Charcoal on Paper
18x24 in.

The Swan after Leda

Sketchbook page
Charcoal
18x24 inches

Figure Study

Charcoal on Paper
12x20 in

Babydoll

charcoal on canvas
24x36 in.

Strong Women Cleaning House

Twisting and twisting one garment after another, my arms are tired from washing but they are strong. My fingers ache from the cold water and my skin is cracking from the slippery soap. Nothing is bad as my neck. There is a tiny point where every labor pain I have ever had gathers just there on the left next to my shoulder. If you press there, I breathe sharp and my knees give way.

Sugar Gliders

Have you EVER in your life seen something so cute?

This is one of the babies that StacieGracie is breeding. I get the privilage of helping her with the cages on the days that she lets me. I can't even begin to talk about how tiny these critters are and how they hug your fingers and gaze up at you like you are the jolly green giant. They are marsupials so they have babies and the babies go into a pouch and are called Joeys. They really do fly (well, glide) and they become attached to their owners. They simply make me happy to see and pet. Oh, and by the way, you can carry them in your BRA! You can take your pet anywhere and who could say anything about it?

You can learn more about sugar gliders at glidergoodes.com.

Thank you for the wonderful comments

I just wanted to thank everyone for looking at this site and letting me know whatcha think. Make sure you put your first name or initials at the end of the comment, that way I can hug you when I see you or call you and shower you with the proper praise.

By the way, I just watched "My Date with Drew" (thanks to Stacie the Gracie) and I can't believe this little gem got past me. I am so glad to see that the lovers, the dreamers and me do get to take a crack at things and that all hope is not lost. I can't get through a nervous drive to an interview without thinking about Grease II: "I need a C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R!"

If you see anything else out there I had BETTER see, then let me know. And, if you need a Snoopy Snowcone Machine, I happen to have one!



www.mydatewithdrew.com

Lead Mine Valley Road

Goodbye dirt road, hello pavement. Yesterday I visited the old Waddell farm. When I was a girl, I ran down that dirt driveway to hang with my friend Shelley and her daddy and milked cows. Now it is divided into a neighborhood.

John Mellancamp was right.

I Know You'll Know

Thank you, Fiona Apple, for the beautiful lyrics:

So be it, Im your crowbar
If thats what I am so far
Until you get out of this mess
And I will pretend
That I dont know of your sins
Until you are ready to confess
But all the time, all the timeIll know, Ill know
And you can use my skin
To bury secrets inA
nd I will settle you down
And at my own suggestion,
I will ask no questions
While I do my thing in the background
But all the time, all the time
Ill know, Ill know
Baby-i cant help you out,
while shes still around
So for the time being,
Im being patient
And amidst this bitterness
If youll just consider this-even if it dont make sense
All the time-give it time
And when the crowd becomes your burden
And youve early closed your curtains,
Ill wait by the backstage door
While you try to find the lines to speak your mind
And pry it open, hoping for an encore
And if it gets too late, for me to wait
For you to find you love me, and tell me so
Its ok, dont need to say it.

"I Know" by Fiona Apple

Ruin of the Romance

Congratulations on being FueltheScene.com Band of the Month you guys! Sarah and Charlie, you make me proud.

Check this cool band out on the website and hear some great tunes. Sarah is the bassist and Charlie is the drummer, they are pictured here on the left, Pigtails is she and blue shirt is he.

Love you guys! You kick serious rock Ass!!! 

Feeding Baby Animals in Puerto Rico

 

Pet Portraits: If you would like an artistic rendering of your pet, just drop me an email at GatheringTheQuiet@gmail.com and I will send you a price list.

The Lengths, Intaglio, 30"x48"

storm porch

portrait

the boxer

favorite shirt

the safety of the big red couch

Catalina Foothills

ceremony

the church, the ceremony, the grandma

ARTIST'S RESUME

What time is it when you never wear a watch?











HONORS

University of Arizona Dean's List, 2006
1997 Juried Exhibition, 1st place
National Honors Society Member since 1996
Phi Theta Kappa Member, 1996
National Dean’s list, 1996

EDUCATION

University of Arizona 2006 BFA
Chattanooga State Technical Community College 1996-97
Cleveland State College 1994-1996

EXHIBITIONS AND AWARDS

. University of Arizona Senior Show, January 15, 2006, Student Union Gallery
· “Gathering the Quiet” Joint show with 4 other printmakers, November 10, 2005, Kachina Lounge Gallery, Tuscon, AZ
· “Ripple - Respond : Relieve : Rebuild” October 9th, 2005, Scottsdale Center for Performing Arts, Scottsdale, AZ
· Hurricane Katrina Benefit, Club Congress, September 8, 2005
· Published in Persona, UA art and lit magazine, 1999
· “Chattanooga State: A Juried Exhibition,” 1st place award
· “Meaning of the 80’s” Cleveland State College Mural collaboration

EMPLOYMENT HISTORY

Intuit, Inc. Technical Support Rep, III
Bookman’s Used Books, Display Coordinator
University of Arizona Slide Library
Home-Aid Home Health Care, Nursing Assistant

Welcome Home

Returning home has been one of the grandest experiences of my life. It is amazing to see this landscape, these trees, water everywhere. It all used to carry so much pain and frustration and now it is just beautiful. I feel like the prodigal daughter coming back from 40 years in the desert.

Giving back to the community that helped shape who I am as a person is my main goal. I truly felt as if there were so few people who understood me growing up. I am here to understand those that come after me and thank those who came before. Now that I am an adult, I have become that person who can share insight and perspective with a microcosm that is having a hard time catching up. Viva la Scopes monkey trials! I feel as if I have "inherited the wind" and it is my calling, my lifeswork to share what I know and to learn what the South has to teach me once again.

Thank you Jere Chumley for believing in me. Thank you Brett Butler for being a role model and making me laugh at myself. Thank you Momma for having such a tough life and then showing me how to survive it. Thank you Grandma for calling me Sister. Thank you to every Southern writer who never let me forget where I came from.

Booking My Dreams

Holding everything inside my head.

Waiting to leave is more difficult than I could have imagined. There are things to pack and work to be done, but I am so ready to just bolt. I can't wait to just simply hang out back home. This is the first time I have been in a situation where working was an option. This has allowed me the space and time to work through starting the business:

Imagine waking early one morning, rushing to work to find it is your own space. The bookstore will carry used books that folks can trade and there will be a coffee shop just inside. I will serve biscotti and tea in little teapots. The walls will be covered with my own artwork and I will leave space for young artists to show their work. I can't wait to do the press release for a call to artists.

I want this to be a place where people will want to come and sit a while. I will be scoping out the store space as soon as I arrive and from there, will approach a bank! I believe the startup should be pretty affordable. I have been working on the business plan for so long, I can see every aspect of the business, down to the smallest detail.

ex

 

ZuZu Ginger Snaps
36"x48" Oil on Board 

36"x40" Oil on Board

Fitting in 

 

24"x36" Oil on Canvas  

Please write me at LureYouInFrst@yahoo.com or leave me a message here. 

18"x24" Oil on Canvas

One of 4 small paintings 

Three Daughters 36x48" Oil on Canvas 

Affinity
36x48" Oil on Canvas 

Comfort: The Church House
24x36" Oil on Canvas

Portrait, First Draft 

Close your mouth

Thank you, Takamori

18x24"
Oil/Acrylic on Canvas

in the gut

oil/alkyd
18x24" 

 

 

Helmet II 36"x48" Oil 

 

 

Still dont feel safe, even with a helmet. Oil on canvas, 36"x48" 

Rooms in the mind of a precocious little girl. Underpainting, Oil on canvas, 36"x48" 

Beginning of the album cover painting for Three Rivers. 36"x48" Oil on canvas 

Mother and Child
36"x48" Alkyd, Oil 

Figure Painting I started this past week. The color is dazzling and thick, I want to eat it like Pez!

After adding the blue, I hesitated. I think the painting may have lost the feeling of crawling into the corner. I will probably paint it out.

Seeing the Takamori show in Scottsdale had a profound effect on me.

If you scroll down, you can see one of his prints in yellow and black.

Here is my current self portrait a la south park.

Dear God,
Please let me work in a place that lets me design furniture that is as cool as all this.


Intuit's products could use a revamping to be this great to look at. Why can't accounting be tactile? Money is, right?

Nearly first teen idol ever.

Teen Idol number 23. I shoulda known that I was gay.

Daddy
"Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you."


Sylvia Plath

Burgundy Boutique Dream 

Boutique II
This dream had to be painted at 5 am Saturday morning.

The Burgundy Boutique is full of luxurious fabrics and entryways that lead to room after room of beautiful things that women love. Textures swirl and there is a box of chocolates hidden behind every velvet curtain.

Wouldn't you love to shop there?

Nathan's self-portraits:
Practicing facial expressions.

My Art Opening

So this is what the gallery space looks like with my work hanging in it. The lighting is enchanting. This photo was taken by Tamiyo, a fellow photo history student. She said that she saw a girl sleeping on this couch one day and wished she had a camera as the images of the figures are almost all lying down.

Thank you so much Tamiyo. We will get to study together soon.

Drawing and Automaticality

The following works are my latest attempt at letting loose and allowing myself to explore what drawing has to offer my free hand. I am using the time spent in the studio to practice a type of automatic writing. I want the words and lines to spill out of me unedited in order to get to the unconscious things that I have been working on. There is tension and beauty in each of the drawings. The work has offered me my own inkblot tests with which to create and experience my own stories. This practice of allowing the work to come rather than forcing it has crept into most everything else I have done. I find it extremely challenging not to drive the outcome. This has pushed me beyond what I believed with my conscious mind to be possible.

ARTIST'S STATEMENT

I grew up in the South, a fact I tried to run from, hide from others and deny. I was embarrassed by the limited way I felt some of “my people” looked at the rest of the world. I felt that I too would be associated with the bigotry, “family values” and prejudice that were around me. I have since learned that I have a responsibility to answer to the things that I was taught. I also feel it necessary, like a calling—to quote my Baptist preaching grandfather—to respond the questions that the world around me refused to answer: questions about ethnicity, gender, sexuality and god.

Drawing, printmaking and painting allow my hand the freedom that my words were not allowed to have. As a woman, I was taught to be demure, graceful and charming…all things I fought vehemently, much to my mother’s dismay. Words were never what they meant on the surface, but had many hidden meanings. (“Oh, Bless her heart” sounds really kind but is actually derogatory, meaning that someone usually doesn’t have sense enough to come in out of the rain.) My work reflects the concept of layering meanings both literally and figuratively.

My work is a response to and a celebration of situation and location and how these things can affect the way one views the world. I use the figure as a metaphor for humankind and the sadness and beauty of living.

This is one of the prints I am including in the show. "Gathering the Quiet" includes several different types of printmaking including intaglio, lithography and inkjet techniques. There is a dialogue between the varied works that encourages reflection. Gathering can be defined as harvesting, gathering people together or bunching material together for sewing. Quiet can be defined as calm, without sound, serene, untroubled. The process of making and viewing art is often a quiet, thoughtful process. Creating art requires restraint, concentration and a certain amount of tranquility. Art engages the viewer, takes them away from chaos for a time, and requests a sort of quiet reflection.

The following are recent works. I am focusing most of my time on the figure with special emphasis on line and accuracy of form. 

 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 

here is my family: Gloria, myself, Glorivy, Nathan and Mom

These last few months have been some of my most productive. I have made the conscious effort to focus my work in a limited number of directions so that the work will be considered cohesive when being viewed by future possible graduate programs.

I am planning on taking one year off between my graduation time and graduate school to rest and to prepare work. I am presently researching schools and have been considering one in Savannah, Georgia, one in Tampa, Florida and trying to find information about schools in Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico is my first choice as I feel it will push me to explore what I am working on through another culture’s eyes. This will also force me to learn another language and I can’t help but wonder how this will affect work that is already so steeped in a language that I am fluent in.

The pieces I am currently working on speak to being poor and undereducated. I want my work to reach people from all walks of life. There is a universal suffering and celebration that I wish to share. The times when my works are beautifully rendered reveal the celebration of human ingenuity and the ability to overcome great obstacles. The messages that I share are not always apparent upon first observation, sometimes even to me. This double meaning of the symbols and figures brings me great joy. I like making the leap between what is, what could be and what was. Memory plays a large part and I realize that as time passes these memories are being filtered through my own current experiences and are therefore altered bit by bit like the telephone game.

A recent example of how these meanings come to me was this epiphany I had when I was driving the hour and then some it takes me to get back home each day to Sierra Vista. I was listening to a song that I hadn’t heard in several years. Some of the lyrics speak of a child whose father has passed away, but somehow this child missed it because he didn’t realize that it was his real father. The song had meant so much to me because my father had just died and the lyrics sing “oh, I’m still alive” and it seemed a rebellious celebration in the face of a man I had once thought invincible and godlike. I was thinking about his death, he drowned, I was thinking about my favorite poem: “Not Waving, But Drowning” and a photograph that I recently learned about in one of my other classes that stood out as a favorite. The photograph is of and by Hippolyte Bayard who was angry that he had not been given credit for a photographic technique invention so he posed himself as a drowned man. These things all came together so loudly they clanged like a church bell. This is where the work I make comes from. I have a thought factory in my head constantly making connections between all of the things that have happened in my life and all of the things I know to be true.

Here is a picture of Mr. Bayard and a copy of the poem, the lyrics and the images these all brought forth for me.

Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

This past week I drove up to ASU to drop off some artwork that I donated to the Scottsdale Arts Organization to raise money for the Hurricane Katrina victims. I am glad to give something to people who have suffered so much tragedy in one lifetime. It is bad enough to be brought up poor. Maybe this will help these folks get out of the stuck place they were already in.

Every time I go to a museum, I am both humbled and inspired by the work I see. The works of Akio Takamori are no exception. The body of work presented as a whole was moving. There were about a hundred figurative pieces of pottery altogether with several that were almost envelope-like, teapot shaped and full figures that stood at about ¼ life size. I found the amount of straight drawing in the works to really answer my question from last week about drawing being considered an art. The stoneware works would be lifeless without the drawings on them! There was also a nice collection of prints by the artist and a fantastic self-portrait done in watercolors that was about 4’x4’ and the colors in the work were the same as the colors used on all of the pottery.

Takamori will be giving a lecture this Friday, October 7th at 7 p.m. at Neeb Hall and then giving a ceramic demonstration this Saturday from 10-4p.m. I would love to be able to attend.

This weekend I hope to be going back up to Phoenix for “Ripple, Respond, Relieve, Rebuild” as the musicians that are performing are from Louisiana and will be given part of the proceeds earned by the fundraiser.

My hands are much dirtier now. I have prepared many, many t-shirts, magnets, prints and wall hangings. I am ready for tomorrow and I am going to sleep late on purpose so that I can stay up for the long haul at Club Congress!

This is collage, paint and wintergreen transfers on paper. This work describes a friend who was injured while she was in the military by a fellow soldier who tried to rape her but was unsuccessful. She still suffers from the injuries many years later. She studied geophysics and her favorite rock is galena. It is one of the hardes rocks. I found this important as she felt vulnerable. I wanted the work to portray the body as fragile like paper and the facts about galena describe her injuries. Many victims are matter of fact in their descriptions of what happened to them. The labeling of the parts of the body at the site of injury paired with the description of the way to break galena makes a pretty powerful statement.

another image to be used in the current project

Foot to be used in current drawing project.

This is what I drive by every single day. I am one lucky girl.

dunes

sand dunes

First class back

Dear Mark,

I am sorry that you are gone. Why didn't you wear your damn helmet? I have picked out this corvette for you to ride off into eternity in. I am sorry that the engine sounds like it does, but what can you do about a car with wings? I imagine you can work on it and you'll spend your time doing something constructive.

Thank you for being a good friend to me. I loved being able to talk to you about anything and everything at work without judgement. You encouraged me to take chances when I was feeling timid. You reminded me that life just wasn't that serious. What I would give right now to hear you say for the millionth time, "Sew buttons on a balloon, get a bang outta life." Well, that is exactly what you did. You lived well, you did so many things and you were just embarking on another adventurous chapter.

I will keep an eye on Louie for you. He misses you terribly and he keeps saying, "Fifteen years, I love him so much, I wanted to hear him tell me he got that promotion....This is terrible, he loves you all so much." He needed you to take care of him and he is so small and fragile I just can't imagine what he will do without your strength. He and your family all loved you so very much. Thank you for sharing them. Oh, yeah, and they said to stop hogging all Grandma's mashed potatoes.

I am glad that I was lucky enough to be your friend. I love you.

Laura

My next project will incorporate painting and assemblage. The paintings will be on huge masonite canvases: Five 4'x8' boards, each with a body part filling the space entirely; a hand, a foot, a face, an elbow, and a knee. Between each of these will be a shadowbox containing objects (found objects, painted, photographs) related to each painting. I am planning on painting each body part realistically, but you know how "happy accidents" are. I will let the paintings take me where they will. The shadowboxes will be 1'x2'x4" and will be whitewashed and sanded.

It is my last week before class starts. I am counting down the days til I can get into the studio with Harmony Hammond. I am scared, intimidated, nervous and very, very excited! I am trying to keep myself open to any and all possibilities.

A closer look at the colors used. The paint is wet and I am still learning how to use the digital camera so there is quite a bit of reflection. I am hoping, like the painting, this will get better.

This painting is progressing slowly. I think it is important to share the process. I consider myself still pretty wet behind the ears when it comes to painting even though I have been at it for nearly 14 years. If you think that art is genius, I can tell you it isn't. Artmaking is the near compulsive desire to create and create. If you wonder what you might be able to do, I recommend it. There will never be another person exactly like you. Noone will ever have lived when you lived, noone will ever have seen the world through your eyes. The things you say and the marks you make will never be made again. You are important. Art is about the probable and the possible becoming real. How do you know what you can't do until you have tried it?

The canvas painted on here was donated by friends back in Tennessee. Thank you Les and Amy for supporting me during a time when I was poor in dollars, but rich in friends. Both of you were and continue to be a source of inspiration.

Heat 

Red has many meanings including the color of blood, cherries, tomatoes and precious gems like rubies. Red can be the color of revolution or the color of debt. Here, red is passion and heat and the red-faced shyness so many of us share .

Momma,

Thank you for the opportunity to make things. You encouraged me to believe that I could do anything that I set my mind to. Remember when you sat at the typewriter and I practiced piano in the same room? I would imagine that the stories you were writing were creating worlds around me and my piano. The sound of a typewriter still makes me feel nostalgic. You were an ordinary person with an extraordinary imagination. You helped me to see that regular people make a difference every day. You helped me to realize that there is magic in everything we all do and that each moment we live is a gift.

What would I have done without your stories? You made the Grimm brothers the funniest guys on earth. (What exactly was that big bad wolf after again?) Thank you for reading to me and showing me that quiet time spent with a good book just might be some of the best travelling I would ever do.

I can't wait to drink mint juleps with you in Savannah. You are as magical and wild as any old, Southern city could be. I love you.

Laura

Drawing is like relearning a language every time. It can be quite difficult when there are so many more important things in the world to do. These drawings are like songs to a stutterer. Singing allows the message to flow out freely.

Mother and Child 

Lyrical 

Warming up lubricates the brain and the wrist. 

The past two weeks I have been working on the last of my papers that were due. I am finally over the hurdle and feel free to take courses to complete my studies. The following two works are part of the series utilizing tools for escaping. Do you believe that thinking and reading both apply?

Layout for Thought 

Escape 3 

LaurasWorks

Nathan looking nonchalant.  

Nathan posing in big shoes 

This painting was begun two weekends ago. I have been working feverishly on it this weekend, but I seem to be stuck now. I am sitting it to the side for the moment. It is times like this when I wish I still smoked. I used to smoke like a chimney when I painted. Going for a cigarette break would allow me time to think. I would sit and ponder what could possibly be done next.

This is one of the paintings in the "Tools" series that is about what instrument each woman used for her escape. If you look closely at th original drawing, you will see the girl is holding a hammer in her left hand. I have since painted it out. Painting leads me in the direction it wishes to send me. Each person I paint becomes a character of her own. If she doesnt want to leave this barn using a hammer, then I can't make her. Perhaps her escape took place while I was painting her. She certainly looks happier in the last one. I wonder where she is taking me?

More examples of works in progress.

The painting on the easel is a work in progress. I have included here a photo of the next stage the work has been expanded to. The recording of the works in progress helps keep me from hanging onto parts of the works that may be precious, but may not be useful. I have made the girl's hair longer and made changes to the face. There are several more layers of paint on the one with brown hair.

There is a black and white canvas behind that one that has also been updated and each one of the canvases (red, blue, yellow) next to that are now paintings.

I am currently working on a series of works that describe methods of escape. The women in each image will be holding an object that allows them to be free. This girl is holding a pencil. She is writing her way out.

Each of these represents someone who is opressed by something, poverty, religious ideology, societal expectations, etc.

My first attempt at blogging has proven to be more of a challenge than I had expected. I try to avoid any and all dealings with anything technical. I don't think myself incapable. I am just so uninterested. I know how a combustion engine works and I can change my own oil in my car. I just find the task unsavory, so I hire someone to do it for me.