tell me i’m pretty…

just a random art journal page inspired by my own insecurities….

meanwhile…over on my patreon page….

fallen continued

in a parallel universe

about me

so fucking responsible

defeated

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this is my life

i was squatting in a stream this morning to wash the mud out of misha’s clothes when i thought
“this is my life”

how did i get here?
which twists & turns & choices made
led me to this place

i am both grateful for a place to be
to figure out my next step
& anxious
about where that next step will take me.

to help support my journey in exchange for art & writings by me…check out my patreon page.

today on my patron page i share two art journal pages & my recent brush with misanthropy & theories with how isolation feeds a dark part of one’s soul.

my demon spawn

at first misha was
disturbed
as she watched me draw
myself
as a demon.
but before long
she was asking me to draw
her
as a demon
like mother
like spawn

(color done by misha)

contemplation

i have been thinking a lot
about crossroads
decisions
choices made
going the wrong way
like a runaway truck
i have been
thinking
a lot
about fear
why was i so afraid
of you?
why did i run away
every chance i got?
i have been thinking a lot
about needs
about spending my life
unwilling
to need
anyone
would you believe me now
if i said
i am ready
willing
able
to need you?

artist’s note: do you ever get done with a sketch, just waiting for some ink to dry, admiring your work & feeling pleased with yourself, and then the small children chase the dog over to where you are working & before you know what’s happening, the dog jumps up and paws your wet ink? i am pretty sure this is why virginia woolf told us to find a room of our own…..

freckles

as the sun rises
i wake up
to find poppy & the puppy
already awake
as the chores wait
i lay in bed & listen
to these early morning musings
by poppy
as he imagines that the puppy
has feet
like a person
insists
really
that he had made a potion
to give people feet
to puppies
i love the bedtime & early morning
musings
of these little people
who enchant
my life.

just messing about. this reminded me of a poem i wrote about iggy when he was four and as we were cuddling & reading bedtime stories he told me he wanted to eat a live pigeon .
if i could just do all my momming while laying about in bed.

my poem for iggy:

pirates in disguise
“they’re made from recycled money,” says the woman
handing out pencils at the bank.
“recycled money,” i repeat.
“that’s cool,” i tell him.
“noooo,” he insists. “recycled bunnies.
she said ‘bunnies,’
‘cause the bones are hard like pencils.”
when it is bedtime he tells me he wants to eat a chicken
boil off the feathers and eat it.
i remind him that he has eaten a chicken.
“oh,” he says. “i mean a seagull.
i want to eat a live seagull.”
he asks me to dye his mohawk purple.
he asks me to sharpen it when the hair on his head grows too long.
he changes his clothes many times a day
just like he changes his mood.
he is fierce & he is powerful.
only four years old;
he is mighty & the world belongs to him.
i know he is mine because i see
the stubborn
feisty
rebellious
warm & fuzzy
miracle that he is.
we cuddle together & tell each other secrets
like
i love him all the way to the moon & back
& he loves me for all the sharks in the ocean
& sometimes i feel halloween is the only time we show who we are
every other day
we are pirates in disguise.

too many fish in the sea

the minions are away so i can spread out
& take over
& work on all those projects i have been 
waiting 
to do.
someone commissioned some quixotic mama under the sea cards
my biggest problem?
picking the sea creatures to paint.
so many awesome sea creatures!
she only asked for 10 cards but i was all
“better do more…just in case”
and because i had too many fish 
i wanted to paint.
also! 
i am working on painting a portrait other than my own!
what? 
really. 
i was scared about it at first…as if my brain would not be able to
process
a face other than mine.
turns out, i am so enjoying it.
new lines
new shadows
new demons.

and if that were not enough.
i made a list of my top priorities right now.

that is just about as organized as i get. 
so exciting!
i am hoping i can get a rhythm going that i can maintain
even after the return of the minions…
without losing sight of my 
commitment to my kids.
time to don the tiara & grab my golden lasso & get to work.

update: on my desk

having art to work on
really helps that urge
to just disappear

i have started a new page of moses jones. oddly, it is very similar to some panels in the first episode. i did not do that on purpose, but it creates a nice continuity? maybe?

also! someone has commissioned work from me! well, he wanted three pieces of art, but only one of them was actually available. one is a journal page & one is a piece i am pretty sure i gave to dusty a long time back?
so!
i am re-creating both pieces. which is both fun & daunting because i have that “don’t fuck up!” voice in my ear & 13 minions (actually four but with the combined chaos score of 13) literally bouncing off of me as i am poised with a brush full of ink trying to make a straight line. and i’m all in my head saying, “fucking michelangelo didn’t have to put up with this shit.”

maybe i should strap myself to the ceiling & do all my artwork suspended in the air.

part of the charm of my work is all the fuck-ups & messy bits, right?

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