inktober 15…invisible

which is how i feel…invisible.

if i’m on social media for the sake of my art…and i get extremely very little feedback on said art…then why am i on social media when it just seems to contribute to my depression & anxiety?

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pages 12, 13, 14, and a do-over page 1

IMG_5449

after taking this picture, i looked up about how messy desks are a sign of genius. i mean, wow. look how smart i am.
ha!

i am enjoying this project. it allows me to experiment.

page 14

and being–once again–optimistic about my art, i spent money i didn’t have on more art supplies.
but, in my defense…art supplies!
i don’t buy shoes, clothes, or technology.
but i do splurge on art supplies
seeds & plants
and
of course
livestock.

i dunno.
i think i have my priorities straight.

pages 10 & 11 and a do-over

page 10

two new pages…and then i had to do another version of this page:

page 7

for a laundry list of reasons that i put already in another blog.

page 7(2)

and i like the new version better. i do. but i wish i could stop hating my work. i try really really hard to look at it like someone would who isn’t noticing every little mistake. i try to look at it like i would if it weren’t mine.

that’s the trick, isn’t it?

this has been a difficult project for me for that reason. knowing that it is for someone else and that i can’t just squirrel it away and say, “well nevermind” is difficult for me. if it is a picture only the artist can love–fine. but since i am going to be putting this out in the world, i have that added vulnerability of knowing someone else is going to be looking at it–judging it.

moses jones once received a review from some comic blog. it was not a good review. but i was able to brush it off because i didn’t care what the review said and moses is my baby so who cares what other people think?

do i sometimes care what other people think?
no. i really really don’t.
i mean, i want people to like it…but if they don’t, it’s no big deal.
just like i want people to like me
but i really don’t care what people think of me.
however, i’m still aware of what people might be thinking….
i mean, i don’t live in a vacuum
no matter how hard my shell is
or how tall my walls are
criticism still hurts…

and compliments still confuse me….

my mom liked to tell me, “no man is an island.”
and i would answer her that i was a peninsula.

pages four, five, & six

so much ink. i’m not sure if i should re-do this one or go with it. i am playing around a lot with intentional ink stains. i am no van gogh however.

i’m still undecided on some of my results.
some i feel really strongly about…others, i’m not so sure.
i could point out all of the things that bug me…but i’m not going to. i’m working on managing my anxiety, and i think this somehow falls into it.

so here are some pages.

done-ish.

pages one, two, & three

i wrote the following poem/facebook post for my new moon manifestation

internet dating
with it’s oozing
toxic
masculinity
both the profiles
(sports! sports! & sports!)
and the interactions
(ass-hole-io!)
have caused me to swear off men…
a new moon
(new beginnings!)
& an eclipse
(feminine moon blocks out masculine sun)
methinks i should explore
the ambidextrous nature
of my heart.

so ever since i said i’m not dating men anymore, men keep approaching me via facebook. friend requests, message requests, and–today–one “god fearing” man offered himself to me (or any other of the single ladies) on a post i had written about how much internet dating sucks ass. i suspect my frequent postings about internet dating has put me on some sort of demented facebook singles page.
gross.
what really really really pisses me off is that not a one of them took the time to see who i am. seriously? all my information is right there–pagan anarchist single woman seeking other women. how difficult is that to research?
do you research, fellas.
i’m done.
so done.
i just want to do art. hang with my minions & other critters here. contemplate the mysteries of the universe…and not be a single lady.
no more.
i am not single.
i am complex. and amazing. and wonderful.

would i read this book…?

you know how your own voice
sounds so fucking weird
when you hear it recorded
and played back to you?
my art sometimes
hits my ear that way
i hear my speaking
and it is irritating
and i wish my voice were huskier
and more
melodic
i want my art to sing to me
like tina turner
but
instead
it is off tune and without soul

when i check out picture books for my kids–or look at graphic novels, i almost totally choose stories based on their illustrations.
you can see me in the library pull a book off of the shelf, open it up, blurt “ew!” and quickly re-shelf it with a wince.
so as i am making illustrations for my friend’s story, i keep wondering, would i choose this book?
except it’s difficult. like looking at your own face in the mirror and trying to figure out if you are pretty. what do other people see when they look at you because all you can see is that one eyebrow is higher than the other and your nose is asymmetrical.
ack!
so i don’t know if this is actually a finished page…or just one more step towards getting it almost right…
close enough that i’m not embarrassed by it, at least.

on a side note, i think my inner catholic is peeking out again as i try to illustrate this story.

update: i literally just started this inking, but i already like the sound of its voice better….

mom (2)

if you’re not nice to the mama…

“i’m a good father!”
he tells me
& tells me
& tells me
and to paraphrase shakespeare,
i think the fellow doth protest too much.
who is he trying to convince?
and i say to him,
“but you are a crappy partner.”
and something eggs at me
until i realize
you can’t be a crappy partner
and a good father
you just can’t…
to be a good father
you have to be good
to their mother.

(i had a full post written…and i lost it. so now i’m pissed off & trying to remember what awesome things i had written….)

page16

dusty came for the weekend because it was misha’s birthday and maybe–just maybe–i was trying to sabotage myself because i was feeling too happy…too healthy…too on top of my life….

was i trying to sabotage me?

well, if i was, it didn’t work! the day after he left i finished my application for the sustainable arts award for moms who are artists &/or writers. i got my shit together and even figured out how to make a pdf file of my pages of moses jones.
two days after he left, i finished all my rough drafts for “mistress of mud.”

page17

of course, why he was here, i was sick to my stomach. literally. nauseated the entire time. so so sick.
my body does that.
if my brain won’t listen…my body goes on strike and some sort of illness manifests. so many boyfriends have resulted in flu symptoms.
meanwhile, dusty is telling me what a good dad he is and thinking that my passivity due to nausea means i am flirting with him?

holy crap.

we were having a good conversation one night. we went out and watched the moon rise and stars fall out of the sky. it was amazing & awesome and we were there together.
then
i was like, “okay, i’m going to bed” seeing as i am always up at sunrise and pretty much always sleep deprived.
and it was a light switch.
gone was nice dusty
& out came hostile dusty.
fuck that bullshit.
he thinks we are going to somehow someday have some fucking happily ever after? and if i don’t reciprocate, i get treated like garbage?
i don’t want to lead him on. i want to be honest with him that it is over and would take a miracle of biblical proportions for us to ever be a couple again…
but i am afraid of his reaction.
i feel stupid for it. silenced.
why can’t i be civil to him without  him thinking that means he is going to get laid?
i want to be able to say, “no” without it turning into an attack on me.
fuck this bullshit.

fuck it.

page18