Exploring childhood memories, I’d like to reimagine the stories I think I know. A new twist on an old tale or perhaps a different perspective completely. I have to start with a stunner in those shades. Beauty Queen has a new daydream.
Rear View Lover
We’re all machines, complex codes of energy, waiting for our next protocol. Some days, I feel like I only have one battery of a duo going. I’ve had this vision in my mind since teenhood. Where’s my other battery gone off to? Belle needs more than this provincial life.
Mechanical Machination Mockation (mmm)
It’s finally happening. This dreamboat kitten’s staying up all nite and catching Santa in the act. Though, seriously, this is what cats are trying to do when they roll themselves up in your lights. I’m just glad it’s almost over, folks.
Made it through the holiday with only a food baby to moan about. One hot dish was the green bean casserole. It’s all about the homemade soup and gosh darn is it easy to make. Vintage Dolly had us making 6 different batches of cookies. Well, we both made a batch extra and only five people to eat them all. Cookie Monster was all too happy to be the hero and save us.
Elvis & Pricilla
Prezzie from the bestie is a dandy; a new set of pens for doodling. Now I’m feeling all fancy poppet with my pen for every room of the house. They feel good for sketching.
Model can’t help being a mannequin, can I help being a spectator? Belle will never leave the providence. I suppose all she really wanted was a good read and there was a snazzy nook full in that airy abode. Were books just books in the castle or also innocent employees swept up into the curse of tween? Was the witch the wicked one? Now that story sounds familiar. Belle was only a damsel in distress (and thereby a stereotype of Stockholm) because of the witch’s curse on eleven year old Adam.
Old friends coming back into the mix has me missing the cats I’ve known. I should have taken more pictures when I had the chance. Their patterns are already lost to my memory. I have another pet request come in and I’m in the feels.
Feline Fine
The renewed innocence of childhood nostalgia has me going floral once again. In my mind, the cicadas fiddle and fireflies light the nite all year round. Daisies remind me of youthful days. Dusted and gleaming beneath the flapping of wings, they straighten their pose for the stars.
Who Do You Think You Are?
Living to counter the nonstop negative in the world, I’m reminded bleakly of the time at hand. From local government to the country, to the globe at large; I am disappointed and distressed. The only thing I feel is certain is that we all bleed red and enough has been spilt.
Rust revival, in the belly of the beast Workers on the picket line, rising from the east Swamp-fire gospel, justice in the fight Voices in the millions, marching through the night
contrition
And yet there’s a call of the void. A sort of solemn satisfaction in knowing the outcome and feeling the pull of the siren’s song. It’s never to become. Perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel truly is the birth canal to the next life. Reincarnation has me rethinking my perspective.
Hello, Goodbye
Sleep, perchance to dream. I went through a sleep study and will get the results this week. I use to sleep so well as a kid. I use to dream deeply. I remember waking up feeling renewed by slumber’s sweet kiss. Where the world fades and slumber takes hold. A portrait of stillness, the allure of the unseen, cradled by the earth and blooms.
Surrender
It’s been a busy week and I’m roused by backs again. The quiet beauty of curves and lines entrances, hypnotic in its energy. I don’t mind this resurrection.
Fragmented Memory
I feel rejuvenated by the arch of the spine. Backs are sexy without overt sexuality. The stories they tell are whispered in the ear with a tickle of the tongue.
Boo-Tay
Fleeting moments of reflection, stolen glances of lighthearted life, this is what I hope to capture. A regeneration of the soul, a wanderer through the darkness of the universe, finding a connection between texture and tone. Reanimating from tragedy to comedy.
Another floral mood hits. I’m fine with this. It’s soothing to the soul to think of the wonders of our universe. I’m dreaming of soft breezes wafting the delicate scent of life. It’s certainly not fall in my head, nor outside in the below average chill forming.
In the Air Tonite
Feels like the new year is getting impatient. Settle down. One holiday at a time. Stay in the moment, stop and enjoy the roses; it’s your only chance to indulge in that consciousness of life.
Blood Roses
Float amongst the beauty, don’t struggle. The jellies are in bloom and I’m just a spectator in this endless ocean.
Nebula Within
A pair of doodled hands get mistaken from afar for a raccoon, so now I have to doodle a trash baby. Little heart bandits, that’s what they are. There’s one that’s made itself a home in the bamboo forest of the yard. I’ve caught glimpses of it stealing from my thriving compost bucket. Go ahead, get you some grubs.
Night Stalker
I see an ai dress online I’d like to doodle, but dislike both the stereotype model with five feet of pure legs and the generative (buy art from real degenerates!) nature of the image. That witch needs a ride and some healthy thighs.
See how high she flies
I’m feeling tension as the week passes. The holidays feel like more stress than they ought to be. I have two thanksgiving’s to go to this year, so I won’t complain, but feel blessed. With all the color lately, I had to go a bit dark.
Cipher’s Point
I’m into balance and a sucker for a surprise in the color palette. I attribute this to Kevyn Aucoin. Makeup is shockingly similar to painting. Just a canvas waiting for inspiration. Perspective is all we need.
The Hex Girls
Of course the Aurora Borealis is hitting most of the US and I’m back to wanting color, color, color. I see a local photographer snap a gorgeous shot of the beach. Tried as I may, I couldn’t see the aurora for myself. It inspires me to doodle a picture of my own.
Magnetic Mayhem
Time and space, color and darkness, these concepts swirl in my head like the corkscrew. The murmur of a dream; the croon of a glitched reality. The digital ghosts are looped.
Corrupted Canvas
I’m one of those people who likes to push myself to do what scares me artistically. While I oil paint mountains, digitally rendering these peaks have alluded me. A friend shows me a stunning photo from Pikes Peak and I’m instantly drawn there. It’s almost sepia toned and even the sky is tepidly colored. Always one for balance, I have to even out all my colorful pieces lately. I have to practice depth in my landscapes with this one.
Above the Clouds
Some colors run deep, skin deep. I’m reminded of the soul of pigment; How color makes me feel when I interpret it. The richness and texture of tone are singing a duet, I just need to let it flow.
Chromatic Prophet
I love working with people of color. The way skin reacts differently with each shade, it’s exciting. Listening to Bob Marley and seeing his colors before me like an aura.
Luminary Soul
Dang it’s getting cold. The shades of the season are fading, but refusing to leave. A snowstorm hits half the country and I’m in awe of its power and beauty. I’m missing the easel. Maybe someday I’ll be able to sit for long enough again.
Sculpted Snow
So many fun requests come in, but I get one for an interpretation of the goddess Ananke that steals my attention. Responsible for weaving the essential, the inevitable. She has no mercy, nor will. Simply puts fate into play. I’m asked to include a grid. Not bad, but it’s not quite it. The grid needs to be more organic.
Astral Loom
She is the weaver. Between her fingers, necessity converges with compulsion. Reminds me of a certain kind of neurodivergence. My ADHD brain went a little bit overboard, but it’s well received by the one who requested it.
Cartographer’s Threads
Flourishing with prosperous color, there’s a blossom to be caught and I’ve got a mason jar in my hands. Life is staggeringly splendid to behold- blushing and smiling with refrain.
