Snapdragon from the Kabuki comic was another of my favorite chick comic book characters...why are the cool chicks always villains? I did this one in the late '90s.
We had to pick the title of a book (2007) we hadn't read and then do a print based on the concept in the title (Beginning Printmaking). Mine is "Women Who Run With The Wolves" and when we did the art critique and everyone was intellectualizing their concepts, all I had to say about it was, "There's chicks AND wolves in it." This was one of the defining moments that made me realize I wasn't an art major; because I can't intellectualize my art and my psychological reasons for the things I create are private. I believe artists should let their art speak for themselves and let the viewer interpret it through their own filters and let what it means to them be the meaning...but that's just MY interpretation of the interpretation of "art". Slippery, slippery, slippery.
Now playing: Portishead - Undenied
via FoxyTunes Once (2002?), Kim Gassen let me borrow one of her digital cameras and we walked around Springfield, MO taking pictures of all kinds of things. This was one of my first experiences with a digital camera and this is one of my favorite pictures I have ever taken. I call it "Purple Dog" and I have like five different variations of it on my computer.
I love taking pictures of graffiti. LOVE it. This is another from that fateful Springfield day and it's usually my desktop background.From 2006 Basic Design at MSSU. Burt Bucher (instructor at MSSU) reawakened my love for art in this class (also when I decided to be an art major which lasted about a year) my first semester back to college in 4 years. It was how an art class SHOULD be: basic guidelines, lots of time to complete projects, philosophical/nonsensical discussions in class, and lots of freedom. For example, I did a collage for this class made entirely from porn magazines (without showing any naughty bits, but just barely).
Now for the self-portraits: This one I did with colored pencils (my trusty prismacolors) in 2000 or 2001, right before I graduated high school in Mr. Buchanan's independent study senior year. I was in a detrimental relationship (he and I were BEYOND incompatible, his childhood was BEYOND horrific, and my compassion for him wasn't enough to bridge the gaps, though it was BEYOND huge) and one could say this picture represents this pain I felt for him, felt because of him. Like I was manifesting his pain onto myself with flesh wounds, which I did metaphorically and physically over the 5 1/2 years I was with this Gemini. Gawd, how goth is that? Back in this time period I drew chicks sewing their mouths shut (communication issues, anyone?), chicks without hands (to keep themselves from touching his darkness?), and blood blood blood. In many ways, this is just a teenager thing. I was experimenting with my own mortality and the limits of my compassion and pain. Back then, I refused to call this darkness, but it stings me when I see it now. I will never need to go back to this dark place, though I will always cherish what I learned from living in it.