paper wasp nest

i am really enjoying doing ink brush work on canvas.

ps. they are totally for sale. i don’t have any more room to store all my inkings.

Advertisements

the scars we wear

this is a poem i wrote some time back. i found it in a file i had titled “one up on sylvia plath; i have an electric oven.” the image is another ink brush on canvas.

The literati mafia

the scars we wear make us
interesting
the scars we wear make us
devastating
the scars we wear do not heal
when we need them most
to heal
i wear my scars proudly
i wear my scars with profound misery
i glorify my scars
i fail to hide my scars
mostly
i joke about my scars
until someone is cruel to me,
knowing or not knowing
sticking fingers deep into the tender scar
twisting, prodding…
but most painful of all…
walking away from me
from my scars
look at me though!
aren’t my scars pretty?
don’t they make me charming & unique
don’t they even make me…beautiful?
in a way?
how can you leave me?
look at me now…
covering my scars
wallowing
weeping
until a light breaks
& i can see your scars
how did i never notice your scars?
scars i had poked & prodded
&
worst…

View original post 35 more words

enough

i have been wanting to play with ink on canvas. i am not sure yet what i am doing–but that’s par for the course for me. i am playing. seeing what happens.
these are just little canvases i’m working with–though i do happen to have a canvas in my closet that is bigger than i am.
one day i will cover that fucker in ink.
until then…practice & experiment.

so.
surprise!
a self-portrait on canvas.