Enthrallment Treasury

This lovely art treasury was collected by sewsilldesigns. I love the huge variety of art on etsy, and I spend way too much time just going through page after page of masterpieces.

It includes the following etsy artists:
irenesuchocki
seasprayblue
ihavethreeheads
groundwork
ellemoss
corid
julzevi
papermoth
johnwgolden
kalla
yuuco

Fairy circles take me away to fairy lands;

Just looking at pictures I took last summer makes me feel dreamy...

I was included in this fun Pirate Treasury

Arrrrgh! Sunny shores and rum. This treasury was currated by Perlenprincess, and these etsy artist are included with me:
Kumitwist
TrishWA
jolijoli
teamzvonik
jdeandrade
karingrow
petracollection
KatrinLermanJewelry
ShopClementine
idreamicanfly
SimpleLiveDesigns

The snow is falling

The snow is falling. I thought it would never come. For some reason, I am convinced anew every year that winter will never come again. I am surprised by the invasion, even though I shouldn't be. Millions of moth wings float to the ground, covering it in their iridescent dust. They whirl through the air, dancing and avoiding the ground. Little currents come up, licking them back toward the sky. It turns out to be a passing promise. The flakes continue down to the dirt to melt.


Ice is starting to cover the roads. The police have stopped counting the number of accidents. It is not surprising; people always find a way to crash in burn in even the most innocuous conditions. Right now, the layer of snow is just a tease, a dusting. More moth wings are promising to come down, global warming or not. We will not be neglected, at least this year.


I can hear their voices, soft and lulling. "Settle, softly, sigh". You will miss me when I am gone, they whisper. I can't hear them with my ears. The echo is in my mind. It is heard so quietly, I have to strain to hear. It is the sound of millions of voices. No single voice says anything in its entirety. Each voice breathes a part of a word, a millisecond of the whole. You have to concentrate to put it all together. The sounds pulse softly, like a faint heartbeat. They create a tune – one that you've heard before but you can't quite remember.


You want to walk into the woods to that sound. Maybe lie down and let the moths encapsulate you. You can lie in your cocoon, forgetting the cold and curling yourself around your own steaming breath. As you lay there, you forget about the places outside your new domicile. Your memories blur and parade before you like an old VHS tape, distorted and jumbled and lacking a sound track. Of course, you cannot hear yourself. You are surrounded by the moths singing you their lullaby. Lie still, and we will hold you. Nothing else will matter but you and us; we can shut out the world with the blinders of our wings. We will make the world one color, muted and stoned.


There are different intensities of the gray, even some tinge of hues. The red brick looks like it is forgetting how to be red. But the green of the holly bushes revolt – they scream green in a world of gray pillow stuffing. The leaves refuse to be silent and forgotten.


Traffic is rolling now. The discarded wings are being torn and soiled by the tires. Someone will put salt out on the asphalt, dissolving the veins in the wings. They break apart and succumb to the slashings of the tires and the plows. We fight back stubbornly, wanting to still get to work or the liquor store despite the onslaught of the moths. Why would such little things presume to interfere with us? Most people don't hear the music or the heartbeat in the air, nor do they care to. They don't stop to acknowledge the apparitions. Eventually, the moths give way. The heat and sun overcome in the end. Even the last little colonies in shady corners sly away. But they promise to come back to us again. My ears are ringing with the silence of their leaving.

The sparrow plaque project

This is a little sparrow wall plaque that I just finished. I love it! It is layers of mat board, decorative paper, vintage paper, a vintage sparrow illustration, and buttons. I made sure that the back looks as good as the front. Most of the time, I spend my free time drawing and painting, but sometimes I just need a break, and projects like these are fun since you are just cutting and glueing.

Summer Fish

This is one of the few pictures that I have taken that I like. So I'm sharing it. It makes me miss summer and warm weather. It's so cold already! I want to fast forward to spring...

It's a little late, but...

This was Phi's costume for Halloween this year. The little elephant distracted her long enough to snap some photos before she tried to eat the hat. The wings are made out of artificial lilly pads, and they turned out so adorable. I don't know if I love them or the hat the best. We didn't go anywhere this year, but I couldn't let her first Halloween go by without making her a costume. She looked so cute. Now, she loves to look at pictures of herself in her woodsprite outfit.

"Candid"

"Candid" 7.5" x 11" watercolor and graphite on coldpress paper

Sometimes, I have a hard time keeping things to myself...

"Shears"

"Shears" 7.5"x11" Watercolor and graphite on paper


Her legs sometimes get in the way while she is gardening...

"Tigerlilly"

"Tigerlilly" 7.5"x11" Watercolor and graphite on paper

The wild Tigerlilly is a rare flower of extraordinary attributes. In the early spring, before the trees get their leaves, it emerges from the soil on foggy mornings. It only fully blooms for one morning, and it disappears before the sun reaches it's apex. They are gone by the afternoon as they are cannibilistic and tend to eat each other. They are safe to be picked since they dislike nibbling on people.

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I am so, so pleased with this painting! From the foggy trees to the sublime expression on the girl's face, it has a wonderful flow to me. I like literal takes on words, and tigerlillies really lend themselves to this concept.

"The Tortoise and the Hare"

"The Tortoise and the Hare" 7.5"x11" Watercolor and graphite on coldpress paper

This painting represents a new breakthrough for me artistically. Before, my paintings were very abstract, and the most common comment I got was "It makes me think of Tim Burton." I don't want to be a hack and do paintings that people immediately associate with well established characters. I want my style to be my own, and while painting children and animals in surreal situations is nothing new, each of them have my own unique perspective.

I like to use children in my recent work. They are innocence confronting the big, scary, confusing world. Through their eyes, you can see from a different perspective. Things look more amazing and daunting.

This painting, "The Tortoise and the Hare", is a study of hue, saturation, and dimension. The tortoise will never win the race because it is tethered by the girl wearing the rabbit mask.

Phi's Bunny

I made this cute little glove bunny for Phi after I saw how to on the martha stewart show. She loves it! It makes me so happy to know that I made her something that gets her smiling! Her favorite part is the little flower on the bunny's ear.

Touch Me Shadow

India Ink

Spank Me Shadow

India Ink

Need Me Shadow

India Ink

These boots were made for walkin'

My newest etsy treasury:

Featuring these awesome artists:
Adagio725
LesFrivolites
AureliaandAnnalise
atwhim
zerkahloostrah
Unraveled
BabyBootique
dollmofee
PeriwinkleBlink
racheltrouble
elefent
cyzuki

Treasury West Feature - Heartbeat

Today, my "Bonjour Colette" painting was included in a lovely treasury west etsy list curated by lindesigns.

I was included with these other wonderful etsy artists:
divinerose
ElegantSnobbery
kcmosaics
BeadFloraJewels
lindesigns
JessicaDoyle
DewOnAPetalHome
CricketsCreations
AFineDistraction
miasophia
thefunkyfelter

Walking Shadow

India Ink

Slide Shadow

India Ink

Building Homes

The details on PetitHouse's tiny domiciles are amazing. I wish my home was as charming.


http://www.petitehouse.etsy.com

Home charms from hutchink lets you take home with you wherever your road may take you.


http://www.hutchink.etsy.com

This cute little house from coffeebnz is so cute, and you never have to vacuum the floors!


http://www.coffeebnz.etsy.com

ASilverGarden says it so eloquently.


http://www.asilvergarden.etsy.com

Smoking Garden Shadow

India Ink

Picnic Shadow

India Ink

Boyshort Shadow

India Ink

Umbrella Right Shadow

India ink

Umbrella Left Shadow

India ink

Clever Clever Girl treasury

I featured the following amazing etsy artists:
wickedpen
loveyduds
bestiaryink
cherrycreek
NoveltyGallery
brendasbridalveils
memopause
phippsart
microcosm
vintageopulance
eggmanstudios
Linotte

Turtle - a short story

God, it was so muggy out. Not to be melodramatic, but it was miserable. Absolutely miserable. Everything stuck to you - your hair, your shirt, your panties. Even the air seemed to stick to you. The atmosphere felt heavy and dense, and the humidity hugged the heat to your body, creating a choking, clinging cocoon. The sun was harsh and combative, and between it and the humidity, it was almost painful to be outside. Even breathing felt like too much effort.

I was wearing an old gray t-shirt with "Tiger's Baseball" barely legible on the front and holes under the arms. The collar had separated from the body in places and the sleeves were gone. It was a relic from junior high, an artifact from my first boyfriend, whom I held hands with on the bus and let feel me up behind the concession stand at the run down football stadium. I was also wearing a sports bra, cut off jeans, and my torn up doc marten's (another relic from the days of grunge that I kept around for just the right occasion). Today, that occasion was going down the street to help my aunt with cleaning up her yard. The brush was growing in stubbornly despite it being the end of summer and the time of the year when everything was giving up to brown. The weeds were defying every environmental obstacle the earth threw at them. Despite the humidity, it hadn't rained in over a month, and the dry soil sucked any moisture down with greedy intensity. Everything else was dying from the sun's heat, but the nasty, bristly plants that we battled constantly were thriving.

Of course, she insisted on taking care of them in the middle of the day, after church but before supper. To her, it made perfect sense to do it in the heat of the noon sun as that was the only time that fit into her schedule. My aunt was not human, I was sure of that. She didn't sweat, she didn't smile, and she didn't tolerate laziness. She kept plastic covers on her furniture, and even her knick-nacks were lined up with rigid precision. She was a machine.

When I made it down to her house, she was just coming out from her screen porch. The door banged shut behind her, and I took a second to marvel at her appearance. My aunt was a she-demon from another era, a time that demanded proper dress and accessorizing in every circumstance. Even in the heat and humidity, she was dressed with aggressive perfection. Her dyed black hair was shockingly artificial against her paper white, cracking skin, and it was set in a high bun atop her head. Her lips were painted a rich scarlet, and her fingernails matched them. She was wearing black cat eye sunglasses, a red and white, long sleeved gingham blouse tucked into snug tapered leg jeans, and prim black gardening gloves with a dainty white bow at each wrist. It was as though she were a sun vision or a hallucination. She shimmered in the heat and looked like she had been superimposed on the landscape. She was completely incongruous to the weather,and she stood out blatantly against the brown, withered lawn and the bright white house.

"Let's get started," she said without preamble, handing me a dull machete.

"I'm looking for a turtle shell," I said. "Even if it has a little bit of flesh still in it, I would like it. I'll just put it on an ant hill and let them clean it up." I knew that turtles lived in the brush, and every time we cleared this part of the yard we found some live ones and some empty shells. I didn't really have a good reason for wanting one. I just did.

She frowned and replied, "Alright." Then we got down to work. She was never one to waste words.

After about half an hour in the miserable heat, she straightened from picking up something from the ground. "I found one," she informed me. I looked up from the vine that I was struggling to cut, and I saw that the turtle was still alive. Without a change in the expression on her face, she tore off the hind legs, then the front legs, then the head. Until the head was removed, it thrashed wildly from side to side, and the little legs kicked in a desperate struggle to escape, it's claws straining for purchase. At least, they did until they were torn off. She handed it to me, and without thinking, I took it. There, in my hand, was a dismembered, beheaded turtle.

My aunt turned around and continued cutting through the weeds.

My baby loves Blondie!

Well, her dad loves Blondie, so I couldn't pass up this rockstar shirt. She outgrew it in about 2 minutes, but she doesn't need it to be the coolest baby out there.

Lovely Ragdoll

This absolutely lovely sculpture called "Girl with Flowers and Crow" by primoriginals (www.primoriginals.etsy.com) absolutely took my breath away. Her face has so much depth and beauty....

"Pantomime"

I know some people are weirded out by mimes, but I really am intrigued by them. It is interesting how they exaggerate the subtle body language that everyone uses. This type of interaction is so universally relateable. That they can say so much without breathing a word speaks volumes about the way we communicate. It carries across cultures as well. Regardless of language, we as humans can still speak to each other through the commonality of our humanity and the shared human experience. After all, every culture in the world has a word (or words!) for love.

She turned out even better than I envisioned her. Her face is so sweet, and she even looks a little surprised to find you in front of her. The traditional mime styling of the makeup looks lovely with her little outfit and the topiaries behind her. To me, it looks a little bit French...

Watercolor and graphite on coldpress paper - 9"x12"

Do you remember "The Dark Crystal" ?

I've been watching tons of old movies lately because we haven't gotten cable yet for our new place. I can't stand reality TV, and this is the only genre available on network stations most of the time, apparently. It seems so pointless most of the time (project runway excluded, of course). I mean, how much plotting and backstabbing for cash can one country stand? Apparently, a lot...

Anyway, I just watched "The Dark Crystal" again - I always forget how much I love this film. I remember watching it as a kid, and I had no idea then how creepy it really is. You should watch it again. You will be surprised at how dark it is. A classic good vs evil plot with wonderful characters and beautiful artistic design. The puppets are breathtaking, and the visual theme of decaying beauty and gilded ugliness is compelling. The ending is sort of ubiquitous, and the duality of dark and light is visited. It reflects the good and bad that exists in all of us. Such an interesting story, and it is so lovely to watch.

I found this mash video on youtube. It's so awesomely 80's

Hats need to make a comback

I have a new favorite etsy artisan - Kim Dye of Topsy Turvy Design (www.topsyturvydesign.etsy.com). She has the most amazing skill at making costume hats, and her pictures in her shop are to die for. I am smitten! This is a great interview with her:

I heart David Bowie!!!

I am rewatching The Labyrinth for about the millionth time, and I fall in love with David Bowie all over again every time! I have no idea ho a man in tights wearing eyeshadow can get me so hot and bothered... I love brooding intensity.

It is such an amazing film, and of course the ball scene is my favorite. It is all gossamer and cobwebs, and so beautifully creepy and romantic. It makes me want to run over to my sketch pad and go nuts.

Seahorse Mermaid

We'll ride out the waves
And the storms in the sea.
Oh, it's you that I crave,
And you that I need.

We'll throw caution aside
And cast out our fear.
For this reckless ride,
Love, I just want you near.

Nothing can touch me
With you by my side,
So we'll ride out recklessly
Breakneck through the tide.

We are soul mates, my dear.
Oh, it's you that I crave.
My love, this much is clear,
That we'll ride out the waves.

Original - watercolor, graphite, coldpress paper

Holy Crap! I'm genetically Catholic!

I just realized the other day that I am actually genetically Catholic. When I was very small, my parents could just say "I'm disappointed in you" and I would cry and fall right into line. I have always wanted to please people and feel so bad and guilty if I am out of line. How do you explain the fact that I have felt guilty since birth? I am genetically Catholic.

"Domesticity"

Just call me Betty f@#%ing Crocker....

I like to do domestic things, I just hate the feeling of obligation that women are made to feel in keeping up a home. For example, I hate it when my husband wants to know what I'm making him for lunch - you can make yourself a sandwich..... you're a big boy now....

This lady is probably drinking a martini to wash down her xanax so she can make it through the rest of her day without slapping anyone.

Watercolor and graphite on coldpress paper

DEER Plushie

I am obsessed with plush monsters! This one from post on etsy is so cool. I would put it in my new baby's bed - the graphic nature of it would be really captivating for her right now.


http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5031541

The audacity of fictional fiction

I finally read my Rolling Stone from November 2007, and it contained a story about the author JT LeRoy, a person dreamt up by the mental illness of Laura Albert. She sells this alter ego of hers to celebrities, literary giants, the public. Everyone. She has random people dress up as the fictional street hustler/messed up kid - everyone from street kids to friends. Everybody got their turn being JT. The story is so long and sordid. You'd just have to read it, because it is so convaluded it is almost impossible to relate without going into all of the details.

Long story short, I could relate to Albert. Not in the mental illness and sexual abuse sense, but in the fact that she compartmentalizes and sells it. I have so many different parts of me, and they don't always seem to mesh. But I won't be paying homeless kids to play me for public appearences, thanks.

Albert and her friend Savanah, whom she hired to play JT (I am shocked people thought she was a he - Albert calls it the "emporer's new clothes" effect).