i put up another page of my memoir in progress, don’t tell, over on tumblr.
like my art journal, this memoir is a way for me to exorcise some demons. right now it is not really formatted…i am just ranting about what is on my mind for the day. connecting it all together, in the way i think it fits.
so it’s a mess. which is true to my history.
in this self-portrait, i have long hair. fun fact, for my first child, before my second pregnancy, i was guilty of having the mom bob. i had long hair for my first pregnancy because i just always pictured it that way…plus dusty wanted the long hair on me.
but then i had a baby that wouldn’t stop pulling my hair.
i freak out when my hair is pulled.
so i got a mom bob.
then i got pregnant again. had an identity crisis about being a stay-at-home mom. started wearing doc martin boots and shaving off my hair.
but for a brief time in my life. i did have long hair.
i started working on a memoir over on tumblr (link is on the right hand side there… “meet me in the sunroom”)
i am writing it on tumblr because, frankly, i fit in better with the hopeless romantics over there…the open hearts & injured souls. i get more of a response over on tumblr than i do here. i mean, i totally appreciate y’all who do read me, but there just aren’t very many of you.
so i will keep this as my “website” for business (if that ever happens) purposes…but i might start doing my ranting over on tumblr.
i am trying to decide if i should delete my blog & just keep my artwork up? we’ll see.
anyhoo. in more efforts to exorcise demons, talk to ghosts, and figure myself out, i have started a memoir about seymour and myself. i used a stock photo of matt dillon to do this quick portrait. it doesn’t look like either one of them…but it does what i need it to do.
that’s all for now.
sometimes depression can help my art.
art helps with my depression.
and who better to embrace while severely depressed than my tragic alter-ego, moses jones: superstar.
doing this little bit of this page really helped. before i started working on it i was just listening to goyte tell me “your heart’s a mess” on loop (& i’m all like, “no shit, goyte…way to state the obvious….”)
so much crying.
i’m sure i will art journal about it…this feeling so fucking alone and of waiting for someone to throw me a line….
oh, wait, i guess i ended up throwing myself a line.
(threw myself a line/drew myself a line…you get it)
so this is where i will be if you need me.
drawing the line.
okay. my very first comic was a soap opera based on the nursery rhyme “hey diddle diddle.” i would draw it on a chalkboard in the basement of the house i grew up in. there are not actual pages. i erased before doing the next page. but i assure you–it was amazing and proof of my undiscovered status as a child prodigy.
my first comic that i can actually share with y’all was a neurotic comic based on my own experiences in love & relationships. i started writing it in the late ’90s. i was living in a one bedroom apartment with my dog norman. we were right near the bar i waited tables at by day and would go to at night to drink & watch bands. i moved into this apartment about a month after i married my ex-husband.
i met him.
we eloped in tennessee.
i moved in with him.
he told me he didn’t think he loved me after all.
i threw up.
i moved out.
i started this comic.
it starts out pretty goofy & light…or lightly dark…um…sepia? but then morphs into an experiment where i see what stories of mine i can turn into comics (testing my theory that anything can be a comic)
i have made a page for it on my website here: confusion perfume. i am afraid the print might be kind of small. having had “serious” comic book man friends who told me the “right” way to do comics, i did the originals on large board & then had them shrunk down at a professional printer. these days you’re lucky if my art is on real paper & scanned rather than half-assedly photographed before i share it with you.
so! if y’all are like, “we can’t get enough of the inner workings of quixotic mama’s neurosis and relationship history…”
but is is kinda cool to note, for future biographical historians of mine, that this was when i first started seriously drawing again after having given up drawing in favor of fiction writing when i was 13.
note–confusion perfume is fiction based on me & my experiences. it is not straight-up memoir. some of this stuff is made up…some is true…i won’t tell you which is which…. okay, i probably would if you asked. i am terrible at keeping secrets.
(i think i have it so the print can be read now–let me know if there is a problem.)
i have quit facebook…again.
here’s the thing. i feel like my desire to connect & form a community is hindered by the mentality of social media.
does that make sense?
so i’m quitting the number one social media site in an attempt to form actual authentic connections.
or that is how it is playing in my head.
sharing my art on facebook to a lukewarm response from most of the people i know in the world (i do have some friends who are awesome & supportive…but very few) always made me sad. but when i share it on tumblr & get a response from the handful of people who follow me–it’s exciting because barely anyone knows i’m even there.
yup, lower them expectations for a delightful surprise.
& without the distractions & easy access to stuff on facebook, i will actually have to reach out more & dig around more–thereby discovering more stuff (information, opportunities, etc.)
that’s what i’m thinking anyway.
so i’m reaching out & connecting more…by disconnecting.
that makes sense right?
one more thing. can anyone tell me–should i do a patreon account? will people give me money to create in exchange for virtual hugs & homemade postcards?
i’m pretty excited about this.
i don’t care anymore what “real” comics are supposed to look like.
i do not give a fuck.
i am doing what i’m doing
& even if i die without turning a single head
i am doing
in efforts to stay true to my art
& to myself
i have adopted the mantra
“what would van gogh do?”
…now i find myself wanting
to have drunken fights with other artists
losing body parts
& giving them away
to ones i love.
fuck mainstream comics. fuck “real” art. fuck convention. fuck fitting in. fuck it all. i am what i am.
i want to go back to a more raw appearance for moses jones. back to when she was just a prototype
back before i was trying to make her look like the world tells me she is supposed to look. i want my mojo to be rough & raw & ready to fight zombies.
ps. this was the last page of my journal. year of the dog, y’all. new things to come!