Day 1

All right. I cook too much and I don't draw enough... and it's time to switch the balance. For some reason I'm even getting sick of imagining kumquat cupcakes and goji toast all the time... so I'm hereby promising myself and the world one (1, uno, une, a) drawing per day. At the very least. I just need to get back into the habit of using my pencils as therapy, release, entertainment, and stress-free noodling. Like a kid in a sandbox.

Anyway, she's called leafbutt candlehead ---

Expect more tomorrow!

gah, no ideas, I cut and paste instead...

"the fruit is health and life"

"...one in a million"

Okay, I'm a lazy dreamer and completely without focus right now. Other people have no idea what they're doing, right? Should I run away to Malaysia? Send away for an apron and my choice of acceptable addictions? Continue on living... slightly mechanically? DROWN IN DIET CRANBERRY SODA??? This is only because I don't have an idea for my summer drawing project yet... I'm so predictable. *eyeroll*

And indulgent. :D

a spoonful of sugar...

We had to make trinkets for our last day of drawing class - a "useless accessory" to trade, while we drank from jugs of wine and basically reveled in the least drawing-y assignment ever assigned. I got my days mixed up and only just finished mine this afternoon, but they will get handed out later, during one-on-one evaluations. Aaaaanyway.... they're spoons. Printed with sobering thoughts, dipped in candy apple sugar coating and only slightly burnt. Medicine for the soul! Chicken soup need not apply. Did you know that plastic melts like a mofo if you're not careful about dipping it into boiling pots of sugar?

Sweeeeet.

angelus... or like, maybe doctors.

Just a quick piccy for now... the last few weeks of school are involving a lot of studio time and stress and not so much in the way of carefree blogging. Plus I'm feeling nicer these days and not so willfully ambiguous, so I'll even tell you straight up that these are angels. Sort of. Anyway, I'll post my final painting series later, not that anyone reads this page (schroedinger's ending statement or just horribly ironic???? true logicians are laughing at me). Ta!

lesgo to the belgo

when I talk to you, I absorb your manner into me

and I hear snippets of conversational echoes from the kids across the city

you say it's probability

and it might be science

and it might just be that we're not so different

/hit the floor,wham,thankyoudrunknow/// :)

he wrote poems to people on the bus and managed to make those suck, too

"...we danced with the tin in some exhibition rooms and were strangely unimpeded by every security guard in the place. Except when liz touched some hollow truck, I think it was james angus's hollow truck. I don't like his work all that much."

*** EDIT: it wasn't James Angus's truck, it was Geoffrey Farmer's. I saw more of his annoying art at the Musee d'art Contemporain today, and it was bloody interestingly boringly annoying, which is just the reaction I'm sure he'd be pleased to know got elicited. Why does he refuse to say anything but still use everything to say it? Why do I hate his work so much when he's basically succeeding at the lame-ass intention I had for my art when I was a pink-cheeked yea-babe of the studio? A reasonably aware person says "duh. that's how it works, hating things much like yourself and yet more annoying than yourself." Maybe I just suck at liking stupid art. Gah.

I was pleasantly enchanted by Yannick Pouliot's furniture, however, and I stared at Riopelle's the Landing for as long as a pretense of sanity would allow. That painting is a speechless expanse of awesome and I lurrrrrbe it like kitties (gimme any Riopelle, yes!).

ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow my head no seriously fucking ow

Mineral spirits cause debilitating headaches. Who knew? I don't feel like I'd be spastic to wear my shiny new ventilation masks either - I saw a veritable surgeon in painting room B-whatever slapping paint around like a mad beekeeping science man.

Anyway, new stuff. the contrast in the photo is shit, but squint for appropriate effect.


WEAR YOUR MASK, FOOOOLISH CHILD!

TSK.