"I seen some shit in my life, but I ain't never seen shit like that!" says the bum after close examination of my arms.
"Really? Thanks," I smile. "That's the point."
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
You Had Not Always Been...You First Had To Grow To Be.
“Your figures are not what men are, but what men could be—and should be. You have gone beyond the probable and made us see what is possible, but possible only through you. Because your figures are more devoid of contempt for humanity than any work I’ve ever seen. Because you have a magnificent respect for the human being. Because your figures are the heroic in man."
-Howard Roark speaking to Steven Mallory in The Fountainhead
I've started to speak more about my work in the last few days, trying to verbalize to those around me. I've always known what it was about on a gut level. You know how you can understand something, and know all the nuances of it, but never have to actually think about it or explain it to yourself? Well, its been like that. What I keep coming back to is the above quote about Mallory's work. Its not that I feel like my figures are the heroic in man, or that I want them to express that. But if I was given the chance to create mankind in my own image of what is ideal I would create them as I draw them. My work captures the two most beautiful forms that I've found in the world around me. I form the essential, sacred elements of both into something that is, in my view, perfect. To have a human form, rooted into the ground, in perfect synergy with everything around it, melting and becoming part of the earth...no, its not heroic, but it is my ideal.
Last night I was looking through my sketchbook and I found a drawing that I did while I was tripping. I compared it to the sketch I'm working on now and realized that there is no difference. If anything, the work I do sober is more trippy than any work I do high. Max proceeded to ask what the difference really was. "What is the difference between tripping and not tripping?" he wanted to know. In terms of my art I have discovered that there isn't really a line. The experiences I have while on acid have influenced my work more than anything. The connection that I feel to the earth around me; the melding and mixing of my consciousness with the soul of the world; these are the experiences that I pull on when I draw. Plants have always fascinated me, so I tend to spend a lot of time communicating with them. I connect with them and become them, especially grass. When I come down I miss being a plant, and I feel that this contributes a lot to my morphing of the human figure into plants.
I feel like my work is evolving to a different level, as art is prone to do at times. It has become very illustrative. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but it seems to be working. People around me are beginning to get the point very fast. So maybe this is the tangent I need to continue upon: illustrating a perfect world for those around me.
Oh, and the title is from one of the pages of my sketchbook, which is actually a very old 'how you were made' book for little kids.
-Howard Roark speaking to Steven Mallory in The Fountainhead
I've started to speak more about my work in the last few days, trying to verbalize to those around me. I've always known what it was about on a gut level. You know how you can understand something, and know all the nuances of it, but never have to actually think about it or explain it to yourself? Well, its been like that. What I keep coming back to is the above quote about Mallory's work. Its not that I feel like my figures are the heroic in man, or that I want them to express that. But if I was given the chance to create mankind in my own image of what is ideal I would create them as I draw them. My work captures the two most beautiful forms that I've found in the world around me. I form the essential, sacred elements of both into something that is, in my view, perfect. To have a human form, rooted into the ground, in perfect synergy with everything around it, melting and becoming part of the earth...no, its not heroic, but it is my ideal.
Last night I was looking through my sketchbook and I found a drawing that I did while I was tripping. I compared it to the sketch I'm working on now and realized that there is no difference. If anything, the work I do sober is more trippy than any work I do high. Max proceeded to ask what the difference really was. "What is the difference between tripping and not tripping?" he wanted to know. In terms of my art I have discovered that there isn't really a line. The experiences I have while on acid have influenced my work more than anything. The connection that I feel to the earth around me; the melding and mixing of my consciousness with the soul of the world; these are the experiences that I pull on when I draw. Plants have always fascinated me, so I tend to spend a lot of time communicating with them. I connect with them and become them, especially grass. When I come down I miss being a plant, and I feel that this contributes a lot to my morphing of the human figure into plants.
I feel like my work is evolving to a different level, as art is prone to do at times. It has become very illustrative. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but it seems to be working. People around me are beginning to get the point very fast. So maybe this is the tangent I need to continue upon: illustrating a perfect world for those around me.
Oh, and the title is from one of the pages of my sketchbook, which is actually a very old 'how you were made' book for little kids.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
By The Way
"...I did not do this for anyone but myself. I did it because I thought it would be beautiful, and it is. I did it to be provoking, and shocking. And it seems to be. "
I feel like that sentence (the italicized one) is slightly misleading, and that I should clarify. I did look forward to the shock value of what I was doing. I always do. But I did it for the satisfaction I get from twisting people's assumptions. I get a lot of pleasure out of knowing that I have jolted someone's perceptions a bit. In a way its hard to admit that. I feel like people might begin to think that I only do things for their shock value. But that is only a secondary reward. I would never do anything that I didn't truly want to do anyway. If it does end up being provocative and makes people think, along with making me happy, well, that is a wonderful thing in my book. So, just to clear things up, yes, I enjoy being the weirdo. Yes, I like being noticed because I'm offbeat. But not at the expense of what I desire.
I feel like that sentence (the italicized one) is slightly misleading, and that I should clarify. I did look forward to the shock value of what I was doing. I always do. But I did it for the satisfaction I get from twisting people's assumptions. I get a lot of pleasure out of knowing that I have jolted someone's perceptions a bit. In a way its hard to admit that. I feel like people might begin to think that I only do things for their shock value. But that is only a secondary reward. I would never do anything that I didn't truly want to do anyway. If it does end up being provocative and makes people think, along with making me happy, well, that is a wonderful thing in my book. So, just to clear things up, yes, I enjoy being the weirdo. Yes, I like being noticed because I'm offbeat. But not at the expense of what I desire.
"Get Your Fucking Hands Off Of Me!"
It seems that when you make your body into a piece of art the people around you begin to feel that they own you. You become public property. Others think that they can invade your space, interrupt conversations, grab and prod at you. They feel that they deserve answers to questions that they don't always have the right to ask. I've always made it a point to fight against what is seen as normal; always tried to break the molds. But I've never felt that I was on display, or that I had to justify myself to those around me. Now strangers are asking me to justify my actions and all I want to know is why I should explain myself to them. Why justify my actions to people I don't know or care about? In the midst of writing this I had a man walk up and grab my face. He was trying to tell me, in very bad English, that I should not have covered my arms in tattoos. What is it that makes people like him think they have the right to actions like that? Do they feel that I have no regard for my body, and that they don't need to either? I feel that using my skin as a canvas is one of the highest regards I can pay to my body. It almost feels like playing God: I'm making a beautiful thing even more pleasing to look at. If I believed in Creationism I would say that this is why our bodies look the way they do. We were given beautiful templates, shown what was possible, and then left to improve upon what we had. I don't, however, believe in Creationism.
There are, of course, those who understand. They are the people who walk up just to say that they think my arms are beautiful. They don't poke at them, or demand to know why. They treat my tattoos as they would any work of art they enjoy: with respect. Ultimately , these are the people who understand that I did not do this for anyone but myself. I did it because I thought it would be beautiful, and it is. I did it to be provoking, and shocking. And it seems to be. I did it because I feel that successful art, like a successful life takes a little bit of pain at times. I haven't been disappointed on any of these counts. I did not do it to become public property. So if you are one of those people who feels that someone who throws themselves into life and lives it how they want to must answer to you for their actions and desires, all I have to say is, "back off."
There are, of course, those who understand. They are the people who walk up just to say that they think my arms are beautiful. They don't poke at them, or demand to know why. They treat my tattoos as they would any work of art they enjoy: with respect. Ultimately , these are the people who understand that I did not do this for anyone but myself. I did it because I thought it would be beautiful, and it is. I did it to be provoking, and shocking. And it seems to be. I did it because I feel that successful art, like a successful life takes a little bit of pain at times. I haven't been disappointed on any of these counts. I did not do it to become public property. So if you are one of those people who feels that someone who throws themselves into life and lives it how they want to must answer to you for their actions and desires, all I have to say is, "back off."
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Hannah Got A New Tattoo And Ashley Took Pictures!
The title pretty much says it all, I think. I got a new tattoo, or, depending on how you look at it, 16 new tattoos. I have the phases of the moon running up both arms now. Take a look.
Bare Arms
This is Nicole, my wonderful tattoo artist. We sang Tegan and Sara together while she worked.
The first stencil is in place...
Nicole worked really fast. Those three only took about ten minutes.
The upper arm was much less painful than the lower.
First arm done! It took about half an hour to do.
Setting up the other arm.
Yum. A close up of all the drippy blood and ink!
About half done with my second arm...
Last moon!!!
All done!
Cleaning up.
Admiring the work. She did a damn good job on all those circles.
See what I mean?
Getting bandaged.
"I feel like the fucking Michelin Man!"
:D
Friday, August 15, 2008
Liberty City Elementary School
The last week has been fairly hectic for me. In the midst of trying to get my things in order to move, cajoling my boss into helping me transfer stores, working, and making jewelry (technically that falls under working, since I got paid for it), I have been putting in eight hours a day at Liberty City Elementary. In the last five days we have transformed the school's Parent Resource Center from a boring classroom into a beautiful, welcoming oasis for the school's parents. Inner city schools don't always have the luxury of paying attention to things like this, as they are trying so hard just to get through their day to day needs. We hope that this room will make an impression on the parents; show them that if we all work together we can create beauty where there was none.
This is False Solomon's Seal. Very cool plant.
Welcome!
Vines
Okay, so I'm obviously not as good at cutting out flowers as I am at painting them.
I love the leaves though.
:)
Tree. This was totally freehand. All the plants were actually...
Pea Pods!
Ooooh! We love weeds.
That's me.
More vines.
More F. Solomon's Seal.
And more. I really like this plant.
Full tree.
That's pretty much it folks.
Parent Outreach Center
Birds and Clouds!
We made a Liberty City Elem. Family Tree (although it is still missing the teacher's pictures). More clouds and birds. :D
This is False Solomon's Seal. Very cool plant.
Welcome!
Vines
Okay, so I'm obviously not as good at cutting out flowers as I am at painting them.
I love the leaves though.
:)
Tree. This was totally freehand. All the plants were actually...
Pea Pods!
Ooooh! We love weeds.
That's me.
More vines.
More F. Solomon's Seal.
And more. I really like this plant.
Full tree.
That's pretty much it folks.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
They Said That There Would Be A Meteor Shower Last Night, So We Went To The Beach...
So here's how it is (was):
It's sometime in the early hours of the morning and I am half crouching, half floating in the ocean. It is so beautifully dark that I can't quite tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins until the lightning in the distance illuminates everything for me. The lightning is behind a huge cloudbank and when it flashes the light diffuses through the clouds and shines out in rays across the sky. The play of light and dark draws me in, almost to the exclusion of everything else. I can feel the water lapping around me and I allow it to sway me where it will. The sound that it makes as it moves against the beach is overpowering, but fades too quickly from my mind. Eventually I am able to pin down the sound and concentrate on it. At this point it seems that all of these sensations merge and become one. My mind bends and suddenly I am tripping.*
Looking down into the water I see that some tiny green creatures have come to join me, and I make them dance by moving my hands through the water. They follow my fingers, making beautiful patterns on the dark waves. I call Laura over so she can see them, but they seem to be invisible to everyone else. Eventually they dissapear, only to resurface in the sky. Throwing my head back to wach them I realize that I have become the ocean. I ebb and flow around the curve of the world, trying to reach the sky. The sky, at this moment, seems like the most inviting blanket one could hope for, and I take a moment to thank it for its continued presence above me.
Slowly I begin to condense into the form of a crab. The ocean suddenly seems very large around me, and I scuttle sideways towards the shore, where it is less open. Ahead of me is a tall, well light building. Next to the building is nothing but blackness. That is when I begin to understand that I have found the edge of the world. Looking to the right I see that everything becomes progressivly darker. I know that behind me is a void, and as much as I want to look at it I am terrified to see what that expanse of blank space really looks like. The thought of so much emptiness there makes me tremble, and I scuttle faster to the beach.
I am saved from the nothing-ness by someone's desire to leave. Every step I take off the beach is a struggle between me and it. "I'm sorry," I say over and over as I drag myself over its surface. The beach finally releases me and we get in the car.
Speeding down the highway I stick my head out of the window and find that I can feel the universe vibrating. "This," I whisper, "is what the creation of the universe sounded like." I begin to vibrate along with it. I am simultaniously sitting in Andrew's car and standing in front of the universe. It continues to pulse and throws itself at me. I stand there and breathe it in, mixing its particles with mine, helping it to create the world. The whipping winds become more violent. I begin to speak to the energy of the universe, explaining that it cannot harm me just as I cannot harm it, because we are of each other. I continue on this tangent until we have finished creating the world and the winds have died down. I open my eyes and watch the new world fly by. Even with all of its imperfections it seems utterly perfect.
*I did not, for the record, take any sort of hallucinogen last night. This was totally random.
It's sometime in the early hours of the morning and I am half crouching, half floating in the ocean. It is so beautifully dark that I can't quite tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins until the lightning in the distance illuminates everything for me. The lightning is behind a huge cloudbank and when it flashes the light diffuses through the clouds and shines out in rays across the sky. The play of light and dark draws me in, almost to the exclusion of everything else. I can feel the water lapping around me and I allow it to sway me where it will. The sound that it makes as it moves against the beach is overpowering, but fades too quickly from my mind. Eventually I am able to pin down the sound and concentrate on it. At this point it seems that all of these sensations merge and become one. My mind bends and suddenly I am tripping.*
Looking down into the water I see that some tiny green creatures have come to join me, and I make them dance by moving my hands through the water. They follow my fingers, making beautiful patterns on the dark waves. I call Laura over so she can see them, but they seem to be invisible to everyone else. Eventually they dissapear, only to resurface in the sky. Throwing my head back to wach them I realize that I have become the ocean. I ebb and flow around the curve of the world, trying to reach the sky. The sky, at this moment, seems like the most inviting blanket one could hope for, and I take a moment to thank it for its continued presence above me.
Slowly I begin to condense into the form of a crab. The ocean suddenly seems very large around me, and I scuttle sideways towards the shore, where it is less open. Ahead of me is a tall, well light building. Next to the building is nothing but blackness. That is when I begin to understand that I have found the edge of the world. Looking to the right I see that everything becomes progressivly darker. I know that behind me is a void, and as much as I want to look at it I am terrified to see what that expanse of blank space really looks like. The thought of so much emptiness there makes me tremble, and I scuttle faster to the beach.
I am saved from the nothing-ness by someone's desire to leave. Every step I take off the beach is a struggle between me and it. "I'm sorry," I say over and over as I drag myself over its surface. The beach finally releases me and we get in the car.
Speeding down the highway I stick my head out of the window and find that I can feel the universe vibrating. "This," I whisper, "is what the creation of the universe sounded like." I begin to vibrate along with it. I am simultaniously sitting in Andrew's car and standing in front of the universe. It continues to pulse and throws itself at me. I stand there and breathe it in, mixing its particles with mine, helping it to create the world. The whipping winds become more violent. I begin to speak to the energy of the universe, explaining that it cannot harm me just as I cannot harm it, because we are of each other. I continue on this tangent until we have finished creating the world and the winds have died down. I open my eyes and watch the new world fly by. Even with all of its imperfections it seems utterly perfect.
*I did not, for the record, take any sort of hallucinogen last night. This was totally random.
Friday, August 8, 2008
California, I'm Coming Home
Joni Mitchell is totally stuck in my head.
And, California, I am coming home. As soon as I can get transferred to a store in Oakland I'm hopping a plane. Living in Miami feels like trying to walk across quicksand. As long as I keep up an inhuman pace I can survive, but if I want to relax for a moment I start sinking. And for some reason I'm just running in circles around this pool of Non-Neutonian goop. So fuck it. I'm getting off.
And, California, I am coming home. As soon as I can get transferred to a store in Oakland I'm hopping a plane. Living in Miami feels like trying to walk across quicksand. As long as I keep up an inhuman pace I can survive, but if I want to relax for a moment I start sinking. And for some reason I'm just running in circles around this pool of Non-Neutonian goop. So fuck it. I'm getting off.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Musing at Such Great Heights
I got drunk last night. I went out with some girls that I work with, said that I would not get trashed, and then promptly proceeded to. We shared our horror stories, and laughed over the stupid things we've pulled recently. We skinned our elbows on icky bar tables, and sang bad songs really loudly.
What is it about alcohol that makes us want to pour our hearts and souls out onto some beer soaked table? We talk about things that are normally kept quiet, we allow ourselves to examine thoughts that are normally kept buried. We finally are able to confess things to ourselves that we would never, ever dream of during "normal" hours. And then in the morning we hate ourselves for thinking, feeling, saying the things that we did. Why not just own up to being a human, with all the thoughts, desires, drama and pain that comes with it? Why does it seem to take the influence of some substance or other to make us fully human, even as it is making us slightly less so?
Maybe when I'm thinking straight I'll have all the answers. Stay tuned. I may decide to share them.
What is it about alcohol that makes us want to pour our hearts and souls out onto some beer soaked table? We talk about things that are normally kept quiet, we allow ourselves to examine thoughts that are normally kept buried. We finally are able to confess things to ourselves that we would never, ever dream of during "normal" hours. And then in the morning we hate ourselves for thinking, feeling, saying the things that we did. Why not just own up to being a human, with all the thoughts, desires, drama and pain that comes with it? Why does it seem to take the influence of some substance or other to make us fully human, even as it is making us slightly less so?
Maybe when I'm thinking straight I'll have all the answers. Stay tuned. I may decide to share them.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
ART
I love making art. In theory. In reality it makes me angry. I spend a lot of time thinking about the things I want to sculpt/draw/paint/knit/sew. I plan, make patterns, gather materials...and then I sit down to actually work on the piece. That's when it all goes to hell. I spend the rest of the time in a frusturated funk, yelling at my work and throwing objects that offend me. I'm angry at the work for presenting problems; at myself for thinking I can make art; at the fact that I would be even angrier if I wasn't creating at that moment.
But that's all just part of the way I make art. When I really think about it I realize that I can't be calm while I'm making art, seeing as it is frustration that drives me to be creative in the first place. There is a quote from The Fountainhead that sums everything up for me. It is part of a scene where Howard Roark is asked when he decided to be an architect. He says, "...when I was ten years old...I didn't know it then but it's because I never believed in God...I don't like the shape of things on this earth so I want to change them." (Forgive me if that isn't totally correct. I'm quoting from memory here.) I don't like the shapes of things I see around me. So I change them. Most of my work now involves the two most beautiful forms I see around me: the human figure and trees. By selectivly merging these figures I can create the things I want to see in my world. I like when people see me working and ask to look at my sketches. When I hand them over the reaction I enjoy the most is the fearful one. "If you can't understand something than it's best to be afraid," (Bright Eyes). I've had parents scoop up their children and rush off, afraid that the child will be traumatized by the sight of a human rooted to the earth. I hope to never become famous, because if I do my work will cease to become controversial (for the most part), and that is part of what I enjoy about the way I wish to recreate my world.
hraphael.deviantart.com
But that's all just part of the way I make art. When I really think about it I realize that I can't be calm while I'm making art, seeing as it is frustration that drives me to be creative in the first place. There is a quote from The Fountainhead that sums everything up for me. It is part of a scene where Howard Roark is asked when he decided to be an architect. He says, "...when I was ten years old...I didn't know it then but it's because I never believed in God...I don't like the shape of things on this earth so I want to change them." (Forgive me if that isn't totally correct. I'm quoting from memory here.) I don't like the shapes of things I see around me. So I change them. Most of my work now involves the two most beautiful forms I see around me: the human figure and trees. By selectivly merging these figures I can create the things I want to see in my world. I like when people see me working and ask to look at my sketches. When I hand them over the reaction I enjoy the most is the fearful one. "If you can't understand something than it's best to be afraid," (Bright Eyes). I've had parents scoop up their children and rush off, afraid that the child will be traumatized by the sight of a human rooted to the earth. I hope to never become famous, because if I do my work will cease to become controversial (for the most part), and that is part of what I enjoy about the way I wish to recreate my world.
hraphael.deviantart.com
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