lincoln tree & sheep fingers

a reader of my blog asked the very important question of where the fuck did these sheep fingers originate anyway (to paraphrase.)
here.
this watercolor done years ago, titled “lincoln tree & sheep fingers” (& available for the low low price of $85)
why did i arbitrarily give the sheep human fingers for legs? i guess that is a question for my psychotherapist…if i were to have one…. however, to answer why i continue to do them–it’s because the swirlyness helps ease my rabid mind. and the fingers help the cynical & creepy part of me feel okay with the cuteness of sheep.
and i do love sheep.

my most recent inking of sheep fingers

sheep fingers

i’m sending off the bits & parts that will hopefully become confusion perfume & other neurotic comics published by tara caribou’s raw earth ink.

i guess i will be re posting all of the moses jones pages next? y’all ready for that? maybe i’ll hook a publisher for it as well….
i also need to try again at the sustainable arts foundation award for artists & writers with children. it opens on february 1st. i am thinking i am going to submit my latest pages of moses jones.

meanwhile, here are some sheep fingers for you to enjoy…they are good with ketchup.

circles

the free store i started is a month old now. it is packed full of goodies. so many awesome people donating.

i have only noticed one problem.
all the accolades i have been receiving have triggered my impostor syndrome & sent me into some serious dark & downward spirals.
weird, right?
like when people tell me i’m doing a good thing, i feel like i am somehow fooling them.
when one woman said, “way to pay it forward,” i flinched. of course, for me it is not about karma. it is about giving the people what they need; keeping crap out of landfills; putting one over on the man….
but am i a good person for doing it?
i don’t feel like a good person…
then i start to wonder…if my art took off, would i suffer in a similar way? spin out to a dark & devastated place where i fear everyone will realize i am actually a fuck up in sheep’s clothing?

however, i can’t help hoping all the spinning i have been doing will leave me standing still

surviving myself

i’m staring out the window of a bus
a bus parked forever more
in the hills of western wisconsin
clouds, forests, wildflowers, birds, & bugs (so many bugs)
are right outside my window
& all i feel
is paralyzed
trapped
unable to move forward
because renting requires income
getting a loan requires income
& i am on a bus
with four kids
my ex-husband trying to lure me
back to him
back to life
in an apartment
with him
& each day
i think a little more seriously
about committing
that crime
about sacrificing
myself
to make sure my kids
have a roof over their heads….
i just wish i could look at this amazing view
& feel free
& feel inspired
& feel hopeful
instead
of feeling
doomed
but right now
i have no idea
how to be
that person
how to be
anything
but miserable
& alone.

so i do still have a patreon page where–in theory–y’all could help with my income issues….

though i am not posting as much as i usually do as i am struggling with depression right now as well as the instability of being homeless–er, between homes, rather….
but i will try to get pen to paper & get some new posts up over there soon.

on the road again

from the flatlands of illinos
to the rolling hills of wisconsin
squatting
both literally & figuratively
in the wild driftless region
waiting for fate
to open a door
(or window)
to a new home
for me & the minons

i am still doing art. mostly doodles. and writing in my journal to keep myself sane as my whole world is turned upside down…in a good way…but still terrifying.

between homes

summer 2015
while trying to convince the dad to move away
leaving a “commonwealth” scam
leaving a doorstep haunted by a predatory woman
leaving a sadness that soaked my bones
just leaving, i begged
or not…
i tried to to convince the dad to move away
somewhere cheaper
far away from his predatory “other woman”
i tried
& failed
he would not leave her
& stupidly
i agreed on a rental that would not be open until
the end of
summer
summer of 2015, between homes
bouncing around
crashing, house-sitting, visiting relatives
only to land again
in my own
sadness

i have been thinking of that summer, if only to remind myself that i have been “between homes” with four children before…& survived.
i am hoping that this time i do not land again in my own sadness.
the dad has been trying to convince me to come live with him again….
right???
what insanity would that be?
i have broken free of him & to give up that freedom would surely mean the end of me…
but, i might have to turn to him for temporary shelter. i am trying to find other options, but having a safe place for the minions to be trumps all other concerns. & where the minions go….
i’m trying to be excited about a change, even an uncertain one. i mean, i am excited about it…but also worried sick. i turn every scenario over & over in my head. i do everything in my head, first, preparing myself for anything unexpected.
this is how i survive.

to help support my traveling circus & our search for a forever home, check out my patreon page where i am working on character development of a comic book hero who has been in my head for about five years now….

and being a patron of mine of the $5 a month or more, gets you personalized art postcards like these:

ding dong

i was at the doctor’s office yesterday as i have been avoiding a physical for a number of years. you would think after four kids & not even knowing the number of people who have seen my lovely crotch in baby related matters…i wouldn’t be fazed by having my lady bits cranked open & ogled…but maybe one never learns to enjoy that experience….
anyhoo.
my doctor–literally–said to me, “tell me about your mother.”
it was everything i could do to not launch into a re-enactment of the scene from blade runner...you know the one–and if you don’t, you better get the fuck to a library & check that movie out (the original one.)

i can’t remember where i was going with this.

so my dead dad was going to be shipped back to illinois (aka the place where i live) to be buried with his family in the local catholic cemetery. i have had a stress headache about it since monday. i have been cleaning (i hate cleaning–it seems i do not have a domestic bone in my body) & dreading the descending judgement of my family who would be returning to our childhood home & how i would be viewed. bracing myself for enduring snide little comments about cobwebs & dust & having microwaves & coffee makers (i also hate most appliances other than blenders) brought from the basement to clog the counter space. and do i need to take down my pagan alter & put away my art & witchy things?

then this morning i got word that my mom has decided to cremate him & keep him in texas.
i suspect she is doing it as a last ditch effort to keep him away from his mom whom she was always jealous of & who is buried in the cemetery he was headed for….
but! whatever reason that crazy lady has for keeping my dad in texas, i am grateful.

when i heard my dad had died, all i felt was relief. like the scene in wizard of oz…then dread when i realized that his death meant i would have to see my family.
though i am lonely & isolated, i am not so desperate for company that i would relish a visit from my family.
knowing my little world is safe once again, i feel at peace.
yikes, right?
either i am the most awful person in the world…or…i dunno. maybe i am the most awful person in the world.
ah well–fuck it.

oh, & here are snippets of projects available over on my patreon page…an art journal page plus the final page of “fetish” & two more pages of “stolen”

checking in

i have been working on getting my patreon page up & running. i have posted several times for my patrons.
i totally have two patrons!!! yay!!!

i was thinking. for those of you who are as poor as me. if you have a way to do trade, i would totally do that. like i be your patron & you be mine? something like that…i’m trying to figure out a way to be accessible while also making some income.
it’s just a boost to know someone thinks my arts, writings, and random ramblings are worth anything.
it’s nice.

also! i am applying for the sustainable arts award for mother writers & mother artists. it’s a nice award, and the best part is how much i realize i value myself when i fill out the application telling them who i am.

meanwhile, i have gotten to second base with my goat magdalene. she is producing lots of milk which i share with her kid, claudia. claudia gets one teat, i take the other. so i have fresh goat’s milk for my tea.

in other news, i had a weird thing happen last week which i am just getting to in my art journal.
an epiphany? a moment of enlightenment? a breakthrough?

at the very least, a new story, similar to “fallen” in being a fictionalized telling of something real to me–this time about my most formative past life.
so…become a patron & you can hear all about that.

or, just talk to me on google hangouts, & i’ll tell you all about it.

here are some teasers for my patron page:

including a journal page about my little voices and one about my imbolc meditation on longing (for my work on the healing wheel.)
and two pages of illustrations for a collaboration i am doing with benjamin davis on his story fetish.

the image is based on my childhood memory of making my first ever comic series on a chalkboard in my basement. a version of “hey diddle diddle” where the members of the nursery rhyme were some sort of soap opera.

meanwhile….

this is my playing around with a bamboo pen. i did it awhile back, but realized i had never posted it. i thought it looked kinda cool…so.

meanwhile,
my day is filled
with my day job of artist
on demand
for some
demanding
children,
fists full of magic markers,
shouting out scenes
for me to draw.

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