Projection of Opinion

Here we reach an uncomfortable place in which we place on the wall a picture. Then the crowd leans in and begins to verbally rip and tear the image to shreads disregarding it's place. I found, my first year in art school, this to be the most barbaric of acts against the artist and the piece presented. The "wall" was but a peg board. The "critics" a bunch of students. The room, a simple concrete classroom, nothing more. I found this place empty of knowledge, void of depth and increasingly anti-art. I left the department, even with a professor hounding me across campus. It's only mid-term. You could pass this class. Did I really want to "pass"? I would have rather failed it. So I dropped it. I dropped the entire department and moved on. It wasn't working, I walked away. I met Jacey that year. I remembered Jacey because she had the same earrings and was incredibly talented. I never found out what happened to her but I wished her the best. She deserved it. Remember your feet when faced with critics. What do they really know? These so-called experts of the aesthetic. They go by formula. Art is not formulaic. If it is, it's not art. I would rather exist on the periphery of this thing we call art than suffer formula, acceptance by a conditioned crowd or passing a class. This is your life hanging on the wall. How do you judge it? How do you critique it? The lines and colors, the days and the experiences. The texture, the inspiration. No, I'd rather exist completely outside of art than deal with this. I sat across from Karenina, drawing her as she drew me. Her drawing was delicate and wonderful, mine looked a little flat. Karenina smiled. She took the picture and we swapped movies. Her Santa Sangre vs. my Nosferatu. I must say I enjoyed Santa Sangre as much as anything. I sat alone watching it and wishing it were yet another existence. I suddenly wanted to jump into that film or into her drawing. Another connection made, another memory added, yet another lovely venture into art and the making. I was cradled from beginning to end by the memories of sweet faces and working hands. This is th e way I wish to remember it. The impression. Bringing any critique from the land of the lost I will say that another artist recommended "one color". I choose them all.

co-create

As it seems the shapes will change in front of my open eyes and move to something recognizable. Then the shapes will change and the hands will move. The image becomes obvious, the path clear. I have found a new direction a million times over and it never wants to stop. I enjoy these journeys. A million journeys a month into oblivion, pulling out by the hair in a rather neanderthal scene an image from my psyche. Then the delicate dance of creation begins. Popping the pages with razor sharp edges. Crystallizing the air. This is my little creation dance. My fire dance within that abyss. Tools work, hands move and suddenly a face emerges. Hello to you friend! Where have you been? Well these things would tell me their story had they the time, but mostly they choose to move within their own realm leaving me in mystery for some time before the break in the dam begins again. Movement. I detect movement just up ahead. Running like blood, the pen acting as a hatchet carving out the space, the ink gushes. Hold it up and move again. It won't be happy until it's unleashed on the page.

thoughtz

Wild Berry zinger, Peppermint, lemon, stripes and origami, polka dots, swirls and curlicues, zebras, fan dango, elephant blue. Artistic maze, labyrinth styles and stilettos. cosmo mama ivy, cinnamon and plums. Nook and cranny. Like to be a granny. spindles, tendrils, sea green and orange. In the night kitchen, mommy? Dishes make me feel fun when I'm with Curty.

the Eagles have landed!

Check out this unique view of a bald eagle's nest. It's located in Virginia. I tried checking it out at night and realized it would be dark... so daylight for me is the best viewing time for online.
http://www.wvec.com/marketplace/microsite-content/eagle-cam.html

image recall

As I study and buckle down seriously in my reading endeavors, I am thrust into images and places where my visualist is constantly taking notes. I have met new characters in pen and ink, acrylic and polymer as I pass over the endless words of inspiration. There is indeed no place like home because for me home is my library, my studio and my writer's desk. Home is my dream place and my cradle. My mind wanders home. My hands wish to create that which congeals in my minds eye. These things I had felt were separate entities are indeed cast from the same well of inspiration. They are connected functions that depend on eachother. I find this limitless space where creation is possible and although I sometimes stand on the porch wondering how to get in, I then have access through an open window. The seasons and natural cycle and wheel of time affect the creative process as well. These readings come to me as buds of a tree, inspired by the season from which they burst. I deliberate over the choice of those to take, to ingest and to use for inspired creation. The world within flourishes as it mirrors the world without.

Building Momentum

Firing up all engines in the art output stage I have also delved into that ever-elusive area of my artwork - presentation. I finally have a website all my own and this makes me very excited, nervous and overwhelmed. www.penhooligan.com
I am currently working on five different aspects to be represented on my site: photopaint photography, polymer clay, acrylic paintings, scherenschnitte and pen and ink drawing. I appreciate any and all feedback/critiques as they will help me use this platform more efficiently and effectively. I do not look to sell online as of now but I am using this site as a gallery to bring my work into the open. Also if a party is interested, I am more than willing on working on a meeting place to be able to physically show the art. I am also happy to be announcing movement of the artwork. I am hoping on bringing two large-scale, framed pen and ink drawings a piece to two different galleries and pushing that showing on my site along with the other artists in the area. On the backburner-for now-are the cards and prints I wish to produce. So now the creative crazies are flowing and my mind is exploding with different ways to go, which in the past has always been my downfall, but lately I am finding a path in the dense forest of my thoughts.