Thursday, April 29

and finally

finals are here with a vengeance.

i am missing home like crazy. it makes me feel better to paint things that remind me of home, so here is one i did of my dog (chachi) and another i did of one of my best friends (christa). i recently got a pack of 3 little sketchbooks and i decided to dedicate one as portrait-only, because i love doing portraits and want to get better. the one of christa is the first (and only so far...ahhh i'm so behind) and it's nice to open it up during class and see a friendly face 

watercolor and acrylic



i'm thinking my roommate rachel will like/hate this. we've had a few crawling creepsters around our apartment and this ode poem was inspired by one particularly traumatic run-in i had

An Ode to the Flushed 

Cough drop body, jelly bean head
and those whiskey ticklers! tentacles! 
antennae! antlers! horns! No!
No–you're framed in wire wisps,
sand dune limbs!

I first spot you loitering 
sickeningly near
to my crinkled toes, stone stiff and quick
as a skipping rock over the still pond
of my bedroom floor. 

You saunter 'cross the hardwood
with your burnt walnut of a body – feigning
innocence with that pinprick halo.
How do I know you won't feast on
my peach-fuzz lining, on my flesh coat,

on my sleeping skeleton?
I shake and crawl these timid
trembling hands to the closest cage–
an empty mug.
I've got chaos inside now, I've got organs

playing bumper cars, I've got an empty mug
with your name on it. In a moment of
sagacity, of which I don't recall
I must have slammed down that tea-damp cup
housing you–walnut jellybean whiskey ticklers

and all. I slid a thin board between the floor you stole
and the mug you stole and carried you to the toilet bowl.
I've got to admire your tenacity, tickler.
I would never have groped the inner walls
of that toilet's mouth for one more toxic breath–

but you ran porcelain laps! dodging my
pointed jabs! inhaling that pungent air! 
Oh, the will to live!

And you do–

Even after I flushed you
every small reflection, every flicker
every disc of movement tiny as breath
was another you.

fountain wishing

an ekphrastic (i'm about 90% sure i spelled that wrong) poem is one that is written about a piece of art. i went to the MOMA last week to see the William Kentridge exhibit. i was inspired by many of his pieces and wrote about this one... (which didn't really have a name, it was from a series)

Fountain Wishing

Let this fishless pond be the last
I swim. Let the charcoal dust
of these walls house me well.

Let my leathered skin turn to stone
or marble, like the great statues
above penny seas.

Let this suit, heavy as a tortoise shell
be lifted, or allowed to sink to the
dirt of this forever pond

and let my marble skin breathe
the dusty air that my flooded lungs
will miss.

Let me stay an eternal fountain
rather than just another
wishing well.

Monday, April 26

i am on

devendra banhart kick at the moment. this song is called at the hop

Put me in your suitcase, let me help you pack
Cuz you're never coming back, no you're never coming back

Cook me in your breakfast and put me on your plate
Cuz you know I taste great, yeah you know I taste great

At the hop it's greaseball heaven
With candypants and archie too

Put me in your dry dream or put me in your wet
If you haven't yet, no if you haven't yet
Light me with your candle and watch the flames grow high
No it doesn't hurt to try, it doesn't hurt to try

Well I won't stop all of my pretending that you'll come home
You'll be coming home, someday soon

Put me in your blue skies or put me in your gray
There's gotta be someway, there's gotta be someway
Put me in your tongue tie, make it hard to say
That you ain't gonna stay, that you ain't gonna stay

Wrap me in your marrow, stuff me in your bones
sing a mending moan, a song to bring you home

Sunday, April 25

oh and

last week i saw the runaways with dakota fanning and kristen stewart and now all i want is to bleach my hair blonde and wear only clothes from the 70s.

right now

i'm loving the work of Vincent Hui

Hush-Hush, acrylic on panel, 10" x 10", 2008

Kappa, acrylic on paper, 12.5" x 11.5", 2007

Friday, April 23

if you can

go see the William Kentridge exhibit
at the MOMA
before it ends may 17th.

it was incredible.

kentridge, with one of his self portraits in the background

one of my favorites of his, from the exhibit

Thursday, April 22

miles and milesss anddd

i created this piece for a concepts class assignment. it was inspired by japanese textiles, 1950's hairstyles, and military nurses (plus my love for old photos and war films)

(wood, acrylic, scrap paper, pen, ink)

on a different note, this quote from Jack K. feels right to me at the moment. i guess it's right to everyone, because it's so true, and it doesn't just describe right now, but always. am i making sense? does it matter? no and no.

“We follow the turn of the road, and it leads us on.” 
- Jack Kerouac, Journal Entry 1949

Sunday, April 18


i mean no offense, emily dickinson
but this is what i drew during literary foundations
when i was suppose to be discussing your poetry.
your words are sweet, but i like his story better.

and for this one, i had to illustrate an urban myth or legend.
ever hear the one about crocodiles living in the subway?

Friday, April 16


this is one of my all time favorite images. i found it on the found magazine website like two years ago and i've saved it ever since. for a while it was the background on my desktop. i love to imagine who robert and judy are and what their idea could have been and if it worked out.

i was just on the website today and found this gem: 

click here to see this entry on the site - sometimes the backstories make the found-image ten times more hilarious/interesting/wonderful.

i switched to the BA/BFA program at my university, so now I'm earning a degree in illustration and a degree in creative writing. i'm feel so lucky - i can't imagine doing anything else with my life that isn't related to drawing and writing

Thursday, April 15

night people

here is a short stop motion i made for a class
using linoleum cuts and watercolor.

inspiration: insomnia.


also, i just finished reading walt whitman's leaves of grass. have you read it? what'd you think?
to me, the words and ideas were so incredible (too incredible?) to digest the whole thing in one read. i think i will reread it in a few months.
but wow, what a poet.

Thursday, April 8

for the love of art

in honor of the sketchbook party i'm having tomorrow night with some friends in my teeny apartment, i give you suzi blu, who's passion for art and sketchbook-journaling is infectious and wonderful. i find her hilarious, too, as you'll see in the short video below. and she's incredibly right – once you start using your sketchbook daily as an "art journal", it becomes so second nature and involuntary, it comes easy as breathing. (and it's kind of relaxing...?)

Tuesday, April 6

late night


oh and i went to the jimmy fallon show today (!!!!) and i'm still on cloud nine. i love him

Saturday, April 3

eliot knows me

"the meal is ended, she is bored and tired" 
- the waste land, t.s. eliot

(image via etc, i think?)

Thursday, April 1

who are your monsters

oil on bristol
acrylic on bristol

both are a bit unfinished.

today is supposed to be 70 and sunny (!!!)
so i'm finding a coffee shop with big windows
and big mugs