You will let me look into your eyes and turn your heart to stone.
pencil, marker, plastic crayon
He told me he hated cats; they were more useless than fucking pigeons. The corners of his mouth turn up, but only a little. His eyes are still empty. He told me that when he was a kid he used to catch kittens and place them in pillow cases to be tossed in the Hudson River. He would watch them struggle and finally drown. Sometimes it took a couple hours. He found it to be relaxing to imagine what it felt like to be them.
He hated cats. Maybe I really was dead when he tossed me into the river. I couldn’t see him through the bag, but he would have waited for me to sink. If he imagined my thoughts of fear, he was wrong. I thought, “I never wanted to be a mermaid.”
(I love this painting, the photos do not even begin to do it justice.)
I miss the collaborative effort that used to happen on this site. I have been rolling a few ideas around in my head about the direction that the site should go or starting my own site. Either way, I will post the idea here. If I do end up starting my own site, I will always put my art submissions here. I will also be interested in administrators. I know a couple of you who read my private site expressed interest in getting the scavenger hunt thing going again. I think it is a great idea for this site, but I do not know how the administrators would feel about me taking over this site. I will have to ask.
I always knew I didn’t belong on dry land, but I have been parted from the sea for far too long. I can no longer call it home. I’ll continue to breathe air that doesn’t sustain me.
I have this quote from The Dollhouse stuck in my head. “How can you remember and not remember something at the same time?” or something similar. I often wonder when I will feel like my life is my own.
Oil pastel, wax crayon, ink
Acrylic, marker, fingernail polish
If darkness, ugliness, and evil can plant a seed inside you and grow, beauty can be regrown and flourish.
Bored holes through my skin
I tried to hold myself together
but the pieces of my body were too heavy
and my soul was too light
and I am ripped and leaking
When I gave up trying project the images perfectly, I finally got it they way I wanted it to be.
This piece is going to drive me mad. I started it and can’t seem to get to the point where I am satisfied. For five minutes I thought, tonight will be it. I stepped back, took the pictures, and edited them for dramatic effect. Then the voice in my head said, she doesn’t tell a good enough story. Sigh. Stop taunting me before I put you back in the trunk of my car.
These pieces started out as ways for me to start to love my body again. They were a way to begin to feel emotions again. Now they are just ways for me to try new techniques.
I will finish this soon or set it on fire.
Acrylic, ink, marker, finger nail polish