bunny moon

part of my process
when i am getting familiar with a character
is to draw that character over & over
until i have gotten to know her.

i really like this character
i am excited about being part of her story

i also started another ink stain drawing

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it’s kind of chaotic, but i think i can pull it off
that’s part of the fun for me
making cohesion
out of chaos
that is actually my life
gluing together the good bits
arranging the parts that work
filling in the blanks and drawing out the whimsy
to make a perfect picture…
or something like that.

i mustache you…

does this make me look silly?

i also thought of naming this one “matti-rex” because of a family joke. we know this man named matti who is somewhat flamboyant in his appearance, and one time we hadn’t seen him in awhile and when we did see him, he had a very impressive handlebar mustache. after we left him again, my minions started grabbing anything they could find to use as a mustache and proclaiming, “i am matti!”

it has, of course, become a running joke. even my three year old does it–not having any idea why he does it–just knowing it will get a laugh.

so, matti-rex.

this is one of the inkings i have done–like quite a few others–where overall i am not sure i like it, but certain elements of it really appeal to me. it’s kind of a goof-off drawing. but i did have fun with it. i mean i decided, laying in bed this morning, that the ink stain most looked like a mustache (after a few days of wondering what it was.) then i looked for the face and found a t-rex.

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okay…i am going to name it matti-rex. because, why the fuck not?

swan princess

to say i loved fairy tales as a little girl would be a gross understatement.
i lived in my own private fairy tale.
a changeling waiting to be discovered and rescued from the trolls who were trying to raise me as one of their own.
rescue me from the evil stepmother who murdered my real & devoted mother…
fairy tales were my escape from a frightening real life.

of course, i blame my fairy tale escape route for my love of kissing frogs and marrying beasts in hopes that i can release the prince that is surely trapped inside.
oh what a horrible thing to do to our daughters, right? teaching them that that awful asshole is probably just under a curse but will one day realize what a treasure she is and love her like no one ever has.

still, i loved my fairy tale escape. and maybe it helped part of me to flower despite its setting me up for disastrous relationships….

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ah fuck.

i am a fairy changeling in a troll’s world.
i am an abandoned witchling among misunderstanding mortals.
i am a princess trapped inside a snarky, nippy swan.

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ha!

so i sit alone in my castle as my children have been taken to the mortal world of wisconsin to live for 10 days with a family of trolls.
but they will return to me, my magic children. and we will continue our real fairy tale of homesteading in rural illinois free from tormented princes.

10 days.
i hold my breath and wish on every star in the sky for their safe return.

 

blooming

okay. no wait, this one’s my favorite. wow. i really like this inking that i did. right? green. and weird. i mean, why is a monkey wearing a hummingbird outfit?
i love this one.
it’s in the top three if not my very most favorite.

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blooming, i called it.

i am blooming. look at me bloom.
i mean, i still have buckets & buckets of issues, but i no longer feel like a complete mess. an incomplete mess? ha!

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tomorrow is the winter solstice. the shortest day of the year followed by the longest night. our ancestors would light fires and pray for the sun to return. and it would. every year, without fail. and i bet it will this year as well…despite an impending trump presidency. the light will return.

and with the light, hope.

hope.

i have buckets and buckets of that as well.

fungus amongus

i always wonder, as i work on ink blot doodles, while i wait for misha to have her speech therapy, i always wonder if anyone walking past notices my pictures.

her speech therapy sessions are in the same grade school i went to as a child. a small protestant town. a farming town. a very straight, white community (they are getting better–more diverse!)

so i feel weird just being there. weirder working on my art. but i think most people don’t notice. and i am generally treated as if i do not have two heads. to clarify, i do not have two heads–but i often feel that that is how i appear to strangers. as a complete freak of nature.

anyhoo. today a little girl walked past me as i doodled on this inkstain.

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she said, to herself, not to me really, “what happened to that notebook?”
i answered her, “i spilled ink on it.”

when i interact with children…even my own…i have a tendency to be on their level. maybe because i have never really grown up? maybe because i feel intimidated by everyone–even your newborn child. i never approach a kids like, “i am the adult.” it’s more like, “hey, can i share your sandwich?” i always noticed how kids seem to like me, and i think it is because i make eye contact, i smile, i talk to them like they are people…because, well, they are people. when i worked in daycare, when i worked with teenagers, i never was able to be the authority figure. i was just me, hanging out with a bunch of kids. i don’t know if this is good or bad–but it is something i like about myself…so let’s call it “good.”

so when the little girl commented to herself…in surprise? in disapproval? in wonder?–about the state of my ink soaked journal. i answered her with a no frills no judgement this is what happened kind of answer.

she walked on.

also! i remembered a dream i had last night. i remembered it while i was driving today and wondering if there was car insurance on my parents’ truck which i was driving. i had talked with the insurance lady who kept calling (i hate talking on the phone and avoid it like the plague) trying to let me know that i needed insurance…but it’s my parents’ car, right? so i told her i would have them deal with it. and i called them and left it up to fate that they would actually call the insurance lady whom i was avoiding talking to….
so apparently this is weighing heavy on my conscience because last night i dreamed i was flying and in the clearing where i usually land, the insurance lady was working. so i had to acknowledge her existence as i flew in.
“did my mom call?” i asked her.
“yes,” she assured me. she did not seem surprised that i could fly. i waited for her to comment and she never did. so off i flew.

once my therapist had me write a list of good things about me. that was on the list, “i can fly.”
when exhusband#2 scoffed at that, i told him, “well, i have never tried…so i just assume i can.”
another thing i like about me.

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yet something else i like about me
(isn’t this nice? this is nice, right?)
is that i find things like this in ink spills.
i like that these things live in my head to haunt and to inspire me.
i like that i can look at a blob of ink and think, “well that is clearly a tree’s ass.”

yellow!

i don’t like all of the pictures i do. i put them up whether i like them or not. but i don’t like them all. i am always surprised when someone loves one of the pictures that i hate.

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i guess it just goes to show how different we all really are.

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then i am equally surprised when a drawing i love & cherish gets no reaction at all. then i start digging around for approval…and am devastated if i cannot drum up the enthusiasm from others that i feel for my art.

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it feels like a rejection of me.

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so how come when someone embraces a picture i make that i deem ugly & unworthy, that doesn’t somehow validate the part of me that feels unlovable?

it’s a puzzle.

in case you are wondering. this is one of the ones that i love. so i will wait
quietly
impatiently
urgently
desperately
for y’all to sing it’s praises….

so i can feel like i matter.

(no pressure)