Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Tuesday Without Rain (Finally)

Eleanor Wood

The Nonist



How marvelous is that collage from Eleanor Wood?

I made the last picture for my sweetheart (the hippie-haired centaur) for our second anniversary many moons ago. I tried to salvage what I could from four years of high school French classes, but I probably botched it, but it's okay because I suspect that between the two of us, I paid way more attention in class. Please pardon the sneaky cat hairs on the frame, which was made by wrapping a thrifted wooden frame with faux suede and then gluing on lace strips. The image was inspired by an old illustration I found in a Dutch Graphic Design book from the 60s. It all turned out way better that I was expecting (note: I always set out with low expectations so I'm always pleasantly surprised) and the faces made me happy. He loved it, of course. If it wasn't out on display it was stowed safely away with his few "special" mementos.

Then I ripped it up after a fight last year and was immediately the world's silliest asshole. Has anyone else ever done something that ridiculous and awful and shameful?

After we calmed down, we picked up all the pieces. I just haven't had the heart to put it back together.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

friday with rain

"Strange" and "sad" sum up my headspace this week. This year. Every year? I just don't think the rest of it means anything without the bittersweet, mind-bending, heart-aching parts. Some people focus more on it, the strange & the sad, and that's just fine. I just wish I were as adept -- adept as say, Rozz Williams, brilliant dark magickman -- at channeling said brainwaves into something helpful. Helpful as in, a psychic hand-holding with other beautifully melancholic minds. Music, images, words, the results of creative transformations nothing short of magick. I like them. Others like them. It's the beauty of being human, seeing, feeling, thinking, appreciating the thoughts, sights, and feelings of others. Why? What's it all for? The infinite unknown? I don't know. And around we go.

My brain is constipated. Bloated, churning gassy, painfully unproductive. Sigh. Brainfart. Sigh.