Every once and a while I realize how much I miss the outdoors. Even though I'm a bit of a homebody, retreating to the indoors most afternoons/evenings to hunker down in pseudo-hibernation mode, the fact remains that deep within me resides a deep love of fresh air. Especially this time of year. The weather has been absolutely perfect lately; not cold, but not yet that stifling heat that makes my soul wither and my skin turn a nasty shade of flaky crimson.
So I've decided to take advantage of my mother's covered balcony attached to the dining room. With the sliding glass door part way open and my computer cord trailing outside from the interior wall socket, I can type this while enjoying the evening as the sky fades and deepens from pastel blue-grey to rich turquoise and royal blue. I can't really feel my toes, and I think I probably should have put on some socks before I ventured out here. And granted, it's not like the view is any marvelous mountain range or a rippling meadow that seems to stretch across forever, but the orange and brown condo buildings against that blue sky isn't such a bad combination. And for all the traffic I hear from major intersections not so far away, the occasional frog reminds me that there are SOME similarities to where I grew up.
Anyway, it's the same sky. Even if the horizon looks a little more angular and a little less green.
I feel like I'm on the edge of larger changes. Well, on the edge of gargantuan changes; big changes have already commenced. I have a solid relationship that's continuing to evolve, my relationships with my parents are changing, my art is changing, I'm making small steps towards a healthier life; so much all at once. I think I need to make the step towards not being so much of an indoors person (at least for the season). Goodness knows I felt more alive this last quarter than I have in a while, mostly due to art, positive relationships, eating better, and exercising regularly.
I've thoroughly enjoyed my break so far, but since I haven't been exercising as much (or eating well, at all), I've noticed a huge shift in my energy. My body is in pain, I'm not really motivated to do much, so my body continues to be in pain. I'm not at all depressed about it though (for once), more making a mental note so I can switch gears before I go in to total self-destruct mode. So tomorrow morning I'll get up and walk to the park nearby so I get let loose the creaky joints and run for a bit. I've been trying to jog on a treadmill but my legs cannot handle it at all.
I may or may not go on another page and discuss some of the shifting ideas and purposes in my art as of late. If not, I bid you all good night!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Window
It began with a room not unlike the one I grew up in. A little drafty, with various spider friends coming to visit periodically. But unlike me, the girl of this story didn't mind the spiders.
A big window stretched across one wall of the room; a window outlined in purple curtains of mother's choosing. The girl would rather have orange, like her old fat cat, but that's the way things go sometimes.
Even so, the girl mostly kept the curtains pulled back, letting the light of shifting seasons push through double paned glass with admirable persistence. These days the light shone softly; it was Old Winter light, not as misty as January, but not unfiltered like April or May.
This one morning the girl stood, as she usually did, in front of the window, one shoe not quite tied, her hair not completely in braids (some loose ends were quickly unraveling, those pesky things). The rest of the house was in the midst of morning bustle, voices repeatedly calling too loudly to each other:
“Don't forget!”
“Do I ever?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Are you ready for the bus?” Not so much a question, more a word of warning I suspect.
The window glimmered unevenly under the pressure of relentless morning rays and greasy finger prints made only so high. The girl could see the remainder of her latest smudges: a roughly constructed face. She had been bored, or perhaps in need of a companion, she guessed. It was a little fuzzy now.
The high white walls quivered as the front door slammed.
“Are you ready?” the voice called again. The girl barely began to turn on her heel, when the face in the window appeared to move, just slightly.
She paused.
Maybe it had just been a trick of the light. Then again, characters always assume that in the beginning.
Once the girl had gone, back to schedules and regulations, shadows in the room slowly twisted, shifting as the sun revolved up, up, and over. All the while the face in the window smiled, waiting patiently.
But when the girl arrived home again, all thoughts of windows, grease smudges and faces had been pushed to the back of her consciousness. While she immediately shut her door to escape the winding tendrils of busy energy permeating through the rest of the house, she went to her little brown desk instead of her favorite spot at the window. Good girls do their homework when they're told, so I've heard, and though the girl couldn't be considered wholly proper and well mannered, even she owned a pair of goody two shoes.
Yet the face on the window watched her.
Muted by heavy clouds, the sun began to sink. The face changed as the minutes cycled by, more dimensional and pronounced. The few smudged lines spread, rounding out to a well developed cheek, nose, eye, eyebrow, chin indention... until an entire set of human features seemed to leap out from the glass.
Still, the girl did not notice.
“The sun is going down, you know, you'll miss the sunset.”
The girl squeaked a little, and rightly so; I would have too if I heard a voice and turned to discover a window talking to me. Her braids whipped around, eyes two round circles on her face.
“You like to watch the sunset.”
She watched the translucent lips move. She blinked. “Um, well, yes, but... I didn't finish my school work last time. Mother said not to waste time when grades are concerned.”
“You like to watch the sunset,” the face repeated, “Didn't you paint it a few times before? I remember. I was just a small smudge back then.”
The girl dropped her pencil and inched closer to the window, eyes scrunched up and mouth quirked, “How long have you been around?”
“A few weeks I should say,” the face wriggled a bit, which must have looked quite funny, considering it was nearly a floating head. “I started out as a smudge two Mondays back. You'd noticed a little blue bird chirping relentlessly and pressed your nose against this here glass.”
“You're a nose smudge!” the girl smiled.
“I was at first” the face replied, “Then you traced the pattern of a lady bug crawling on the glass, hence my jaw. That was the Thursday following.”
“What about your eyes? They look a little funny.” The girl sat herself down in front of the face, craning her neck upwards to peer at it from different angles. I do admire her so, the plucky thing.
“Your fault,” the face quipped, cheerfully. “Sunday. The hanging flower pots the neighbors put up that morning.”
“Ooh.”
“You're missing the sunset,” the face reminded her.
The girl looked through the face and gazed at the rich purples and golds expanding across the sky, partially hidden by treetops and houses and telephone poles. The purple reminded her of her cousin's freshly painted periwinkle nails. The last time she saw those nails her cousin's hands were clasped around a dead bird they'd found. She remembered the distorted angle of the neck, how beautiful it was.
But she twisted her head around to the lonesome desk in the corner of her room, furthest from the window.
“You haven't come to the window nearly as much this week, you know.” The brows on the face furrowed, as well as a window face can furrow.
“Mother says I should tend to my studies. She says I have lots of... what did she say? Oh, potential.”
“What do you say?”
The girl paused.
“Academics are important-” she began.
“Yes, yes, they have their place. Not to say you should completely disregard them, but that's still your mother talking.” The face bobbed impatiently, “What do you say?”
“That's not fair!” she protested, “I do think my school work is important! I like it, sometimes. I like figuring things out, and learning. But-”
“What fills you with joy?”
The girl's eyes flicked outwards, to, and through the window, through the gaps in the trees, through the deepening hues of the sky, through the few birds passing by, through the hints of stars, through the thick air as it grew in size and decreased in density, all the way to something she couldn't even see with her own eyes. All of it, and more.
“Have you thought of it?” the face's crystallized voice was gentle, almost like a soft hum of a harp string.
She did not answer. Her knees drew up, her arms wound around to clasp them to her chest. She imagined the glass was no longer there, and if she reached out a small hand, she could caress the very texture of the sky.
Time passed. Minutes? Hours? I couldn't begin to tell you. By the time her eyes focused back to the reality of her little room and the window just inches from her nose, the sun had set, and a spatter of stars and street lights filled her vision. She blinked.
“Oh!” she remembered the face. She leapt up, switching on her light, and scanning the window. But no well-defined face was there. Only a collection of faint smudges, varying in size and frequency.
She looked up. The closest streetlight reflected a strange shaped light, warped within the fog descending upon the evening.
“5 minutes until dinner!” a voice outside her bedroom door pierced through the pocket of silence the girl had been encased in.
Slowly, she raised her hand, pressing the pad of her index finger to the glass, and began to draw.
A big window stretched across one wall of the room; a window outlined in purple curtains of mother's choosing. The girl would rather have orange, like her old fat cat, but that's the way things go sometimes.
Even so, the girl mostly kept the curtains pulled back, letting the light of shifting seasons push through double paned glass with admirable persistence. These days the light shone softly; it was Old Winter light, not as misty as January, but not unfiltered like April or May.
This one morning the girl stood, as she usually did, in front of the window, one shoe not quite tied, her hair not completely in braids (some loose ends were quickly unraveling, those pesky things). The rest of the house was in the midst of morning bustle, voices repeatedly calling too loudly to each other:
“Don't forget!”
“Do I ever?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Are you ready for the bus?” Not so much a question, more a word of warning I suspect.
The window glimmered unevenly under the pressure of relentless morning rays and greasy finger prints made only so high. The girl could see the remainder of her latest smudges: a roughly constructed face. She had been bored, or perhaps in need of a companion, she guessed. It was a little fuzzy now.
The high white walls quivered as the front door slammed.
“Are you ready?” the voice called again. The girl barely began to turn on her heel, when the face in the window appeared to move, just slightly.
She paused.
Maybe it had just been a trick of the light. Then again, characters always assume that in the beginning.
Once the girl had gone, back to schedules and regulations, shadows in the room slowly twisted, shifting as the sun revolved up, up, and over. All the while the face in the window smiled, waiting patiently.
But when the girl arrived home again, all thoughts of windows, grease smudges and faces had been pushed to the back of her consciousness. While she immediately shut her door to escape the winding tendrils of busy energy permeating through the rest of the house, she went to her little brown desk instead of her favorite spot at the window. Good girls do their homework when they're told, so I've heard, and though the girl couldn't be considered wholly proper and well mannered, even she owned a pair of goody two shoes.
Yet the face on the window watched her.
Muted by heavy clouds, the sun began to sink. The face changed as the minutes cycled by, more dimensional and pronounced. The few smudged lines spread, rounding out to a well developed cheek, nose, eye, eyebrow, chin indention... until an entire set of human features seemed to leap out from the glass.
Still, the girl did not notice.
“The sun is going down, you know, you'll miss the sunset.”
The girl squeaked a little, and rightly so; I would have too if I heard a voice and turned to discover a window talking to me. Her braids whipped around, eyes two round circles on her face.
“You like to watch the sunset.”
She watched the translucent lips move. She blinked. “Um, well, yes, but... I didn't finish my school work last time. Mother said not to waste time when grades are concerned.”
“You like to watch the sunset,” the face repeated, “Didn't you paint it a few times before? I remember. I was just a small smudge back then.”
The girl dropped her pencil and inched closer to the window, eyes scrunched up and mouth quirked, “How long have you been around?”
“A few weeks I should say,” the face wriggled a bit, which must have looked quite funny, considering it was nearly a floating head. “I started out as a smudge two Mondays back. You'd noticed a little blue bird chirping relentlessly and pressed your nose against this here glass.”
“You're a nose smudge!” the girl smiled.
“I was at first” the face replied, “Then you traced the pattern of a lady bug crawling on the glass, hence my jaw. That was the Thursday following.”
“What about your eyes? They look a little funny.” The girl sat herself down in front of the face, craning her neck upwards to peer at it from different angles. I do admire her so, the plucky thing.
“Your fault,” the face quipped, cheerfully. “Sunday. The hanging flower pots the neighbors put up that morning.”
“Ooh.”
“You're missing the sunset,” the face reminded her.
The girl looked through the face and gazed at the rich purples and golds expanding across the sky, partially hidden by treetops and houses and telephone poles. The purple reminded her of her cousin's freshly painted periwinkle nails. The last time she saw those nails her cousin's hands were clasped around a dead bird they'd found. She remembered the distorted angle of the neck, how beautiful it was.
But she twisted her head around to the lonesome desk in the corner of her room, furthest from the window.
“You haven't come to the window nearly as much this week, you know.” The brows on the face furrowed, as well as a window face can furrow.
“Mother says I should tend to my studies. She says I have lots of... what did she say? Oh, potential.”
“What do you say?”
The girl paused.
“Academics are important-” she began.
“Yes, yes, they have their place. Not to say you should completely disregard them, but that's still your mother talking.” The face bobbed impatiently, “What do you say?”
“That's not fair!” she protested, “I do think my school work is important! I like it, sometimes. I like figuring things out, and learning. But-”
“What fills you with joy?”
The girl's eyes flicked outwards, to, and through the window, through the gaps in the trees, through the deepening hues of the sky, through the few birds passing by, through the hints of stars, through the thick air as it grew in size and decreased in density, all the way to something she couldn't even see with her own eyes. All of it, and more.
“Have you thought of it?” the face's crystallized voice was gentle, almost like a soft hum of a harp string.
She did not answer. Her knees drew up, her arms wound around to clasp them to her chest. She imagined the glass was no longer there, and if she reached out a small hand, she could caress the very texture of the sky.
Time passed. Minutes? Hours? I couldn't begin to tell you. By the time her eyes focused back to the reality of her little room and the window just inches from her nose, the sun had set, and a spatter of stars and street lights filled her vision. She blinked.
“Oh!” she remembered the face. She leapt up, switching on her light, and scanning the window. But no well-defined face was there. Only a collection of faint smudges, varying in size and frequency.
She looked up. The closest streetlight reflected a strange shaped light, warped within the fog descending upon the evening.
“5 minutes until dinner!” a voice outside her bedroom door pierced through the pocket of silence the girl had been encased in.
Slowly, she raised her hand, pressing the pad of her index finger to the glass, and began to draw.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Winter quarter results
So I don't have all of the paintings/drawings/videos I did for art readily available, but I do have some. Just a heads up, they probably would be considered part of the "mature content" department, but all parties involved were consenting adults (adult, rather), and you have been warned. That being said, it's pretty damn tame considering what else is out there.
So enjoy!
First up is the beginning of a short series I ended up doing for the second half of the quarter. This was for my drawing class, but actually inspired me to challenge myself and try to replicate it in my beginning painting class, in oil.
This is the second of the series. Earlier in the quarter I did a drawing of a body contorted to be confined within the limitations of the page (I'd been sick for the last few weeks and wanted to express my frustrations with feeling trapped in my own body). That translated, in the later works I did, into other more conceptual expressions of confined spaces combined with other ideas: voyeurism, sexuality as self expression and as a taboo, and both physical, and mental isolation and confinement. I could probably do 50 more of these, so once I can afford more paper (all of these were large scale) of an even larger size, I'll do more. And for those who were wondering, the model in all of these is myself.
I apologize for the fuzzy quality of this one; I'll have to go back and take a better picture.
I wanted to try a looser piece in ink. It's not as polished as the others, but it's a good start for what I was working with.
This is the oil painting I referenced at the beginning of the post. I should mention, I had no idea I could paint like this. Most of my painting experiences in the past weren't the best or most exciting (though Grandma did give me a few lessons when I was a kid, bless her heart). I'll try to take pictures of the other paintings I did, but this really is the one I'm most proud of. It's 30 by 40, which was a bit bigger than the 2ft by 3ft canvases they provided for the final project (I wanted to go bigger, so I bought my own canvas). The result is not perfect, and there are things I may go back and change as time goes on and I get better at painting, but I'm pretty happy with it for what it is and the time I had.
So enjoy!
First up is the beginning of a short series I ended up doing for the second half of the quarter. This was for my drawing class, but actually inspired me to challenge myself and try to replicate it in my beginning painting class, in oil.
This is the second of the series. Earlier in the quarter I did a drawing of a body contorted to be confined within the limitations of the page (I'd been sick for the last few weeks and wanted to express my frustrations with feeling trapped in my own body). That translated, in the later works I did, into other more conceptual expressions of confined spaces combined with other ideas: voyeurism, sexuality as self expression and as a taboo, and both physical, and mental isolation and confinement. I could probably do 50 more of these, so once I can afford more paper (all of these were large scale) of an even larger size, I'll do more. And for those who were wondering, the model in all of these is myself.
I apologize for the fuzzy quality of this one; I'll have to go back and take a better picture.
I wanted to try a looser piece in ink. It's not as polished as the others, but it's a good start for what I was working with.
This is the oil painting I referenced at the beginning of the post. I should mention, I had no idea I could paint like this. Most of my painting experiences in the past weren't the best or most exciting (though Grandma did give me a few lessons when I was a kid, bless her heart). I'll try to take pictures of the other paintings I did, but this really is the one I'm most proud of. It's 30 by 40, which was a bit bigger than the 2ft by 3ft canvases they provided for the final project (I wanted to go bigger, so I bought my own canvas). The result is not perfect, and there are things I may go back and change as time goes on and I get better at painting, but I'm pretty happy with it for what it is and the time I had.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Busybusybusybusy- oh wait. We know.
Have I reached a new length of epic silence? I hope that isn't an award I have to take home. Nevertheless, there IS a reason for my prolonged absence from pushing "New Post" and "Publish Post." Are you ready for it?
I've been... doing ART.
Every so often I reach a point in my life so far and think "You know, I'm really happy." This moment is one of them. Granted, my overeating issues and occasional freak out moments of "how the hell will I complete everything on time" are still present and I am doing my best to battle the former (more later), but overall, the fact that I am in a creative space is absolutely fantastic.
But wait, there's more! (Only that sounded really really cheesy and terrible, so I won't be doing that anymore.)
My final projects are going by easily, because I started them with enough time to finish, and have worked consistently. Final video project? Finished it last night (I may or may not post it on youtube and link it here. I'll have to update on that later). Painting project? Almost done. Just need one more class period on it. Drawing? I could very well finish up my current drawing (I believe the paper I've been working on is 38x50 or similar. Point is, it's big) and call it good; I've done three large pieces for my final. But since I still have some paper left, I want to try a loose ink drawing in the same subject matter I've been working with on this final.
Yes, there will be pictures, after my quarter is over. So you can all see what the hell I'm talking about.
Since I was smart and signed up for weight training and aerobics, I've also been feeling loads better. I finally (after two goddamn years of being here) figured out that students have free access to the campus gym (duh), so I've been taking advantage of it. Since my PE classes are on Monday and Wednesday, I go use the machines on the off days, usually Tuesday or Thursday, and Friday. So that, combined with regularly getting about 8 hours of sleep, and drinking lots of water has given me tons of energy. Hell, I woke up at 6:50 this morning (on my own; my alarm was set for 8), so I got up, had a nice morning, and got to the gym by 9. One hour, 650 calories, and 15 minutes of stretching later, I felt like a million bucks. Still do, in fact.
So now that the quarter is almost over, I can reflect back on the last 9 weeks or so and marvel at how far I've come. But I'm not really in the mood for a bunch of sappy bullshit; I just want to talk about how awesome I feel and share some positivity.
My relationship of current is absolutely fantastic as well. B and I are doing our best to balance our hectic school schedules. On average we've gotten part of the weekend together, and a weekday night visit. What's great about this arrangement of ours, in my opinion, is that we are so supportive of the other's respective life and interests, the pressure to find time to spend together isn't as imposing. We know we're busy, so we deal, and find other ways to keep in touch or make the week seem shorter. We know we want to see each other, so we make it happen when we can. I'm particularly happy because I'm able to be relatively independent and maintain my own life and interests, but still have a supportive partner and a safe place to unwind and let my hair down, as it were. My hair is still pretty short.
One more week! Then a two week spring break. Keep rollin!
I've been... doing ART.
Every so often I reach a point in my life so far and think "You know, I'm really happy." This moment is one of them. Granted, my overeating issues and occasional freak out moments of "how the hell will I complete everything on time" are still present and I am doing my best to battle the former (more later), but overall, the fact that I am in a creative space is absolutely fantastic.
But wait, there's more! (Only that sounded really really cheesy and terrible, so I won't be doing that anymore.)
My final projects are going by easily, because I started them with enough time to finish, and have worked consistently. Final video project? Finished it last night (I may or may not post it on youtube and link it here. I'll have to update on that later). Painting project? Almost done. Just need one more class period on it. Drawing? I could very well finish up my current drawing (I believe the paper I've been working on is 38x50 or similar. Point is, it's big) and call it good; I've done three large pieces for my final. But since I still have some paper left, I want to try a loose ink drawing in the same subject matter I've been working with on this final.
Yes, there will be pictures, after my quarter is over. So you can all see what the hell I'm talking about.
Since I was smart and signed up for weight training and aerobics, I've also been feeling loads better. I finally (after two goddamn years of being here) figured out that students have free access to the campus gym (duh), so I've been taking advantage of it. Since my PE classes are on Monday and Wednesday, I go use the machines on the off days, usually Tuesday or Thursday, and Friday. So that, combined with regularly getting about 8 hours of sleep, and drinking lots of water has given me tons of energy. Hell, I woke up at 6:50 this morning (on my own; my alarm was set for 8), so I got up, had a nice morning, and got to the gym by 9. One hour, 650 calories, and 15 minutes of stretching later, I felt like a million bucks. Still do, in fact.
So now that the quarter is almost over, I can reflect back on the last 9 weeks or so and marvel at how far I've come. But I'm not really in the mood for a bunch of sappy bullshit; I just want to talk about how awesome I feel and share some positivity.
My relationship of current is absolutely fantastic as well. B and I are doing our best to balance our hectic school schedules. On average we've gotten part of the weekend together, and a weekday night visit. What's great about this arrangement of ours, in my opinion, is that we are so supportive of the other's respective life and interests, the pressure to find time to spend together isn't as imposing. We know we're busy, so we deal, and find other ways to keep in touch or make the week seem shorter. We know we want to see each other, so we make it happen when we can. I'm particularly happy because I'm able to be relatively independent and maintain my own life and interests, but still have a supportive partner and a safe place to unwind and let my hair down, as it were. My hair is still pretty short.
One more week! Then a two week spring break. Keep rollin!
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