“Where is home? I've wondered where home is, and I realized, it's not Mars or someplace like that, it's Indianapolis when I was nine years old. I had a brother and a sister, a cat and a dog, and a mother and a father and uncles and aunts. And there's no way I can get there again.”
Kurt Vonnegut 11th of October 2005
Friday, November 12, 2010
it seems my inspiration has been lacking lately so i looked up some images that i knew would get me there. maybe they will do the same for you...
in the mean time i am searching for a second job so i can move into a house this coming dec or jan. things are happening. fast even though it seems slow.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
i have slept through the storm of my early twenties limbo, whose game for a night of remembrance?
I am aching for a night of fun. Halloween can’t come fast enough.
Friday, October 8, 2010
I have the ability to smell the decaying leaves outside my window, as well as the now deconstructed cornfields of my childhood. But what I choose to do is neither of these, what I willingly and wholeheartedly do is stare out my window wishing for the scent of you.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
laughing at the men that fell behind me
i am complete in their repulsion
smile from the moments before
eyes regretting why i am sore
stomping these once nazi
turned blackberry hunting shoes
once condoned now disowned
taking control of this empty town
in my conscience
within my body
within this urban facade
once the queens city
now the dumping ground for the diseased whites
and displace teens
it seems i am bleeding?
to my last night in manchester
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
new pictures are up or my new work check out me on facebook (click that) and check it out!
in the mean time...
women like me...
Its the repetition
its the non stop emotion
its the constant flow of aggravation
that keeps this brian connected
to these two breast
to these two knees
to these two hands
that one day will make a living
and my bones ache
while my brain splits
hoping for the next motion
of these female parts
while bombarded by religious fiends
telling me of hell
and its consequences
I tend laugh
and make a sign
to the one across the room
across these mystical vibes
that trace one symbol, an a
to the state a thousand miles away
but yet across the room
these men dressed in white robes
with their parts dangling from their hands
will tear me apart limb from limb
as I stare at the crossed symbol on their calf
built up by steroids and homosexual tendencies
only learned from their prosecutors
(if anything needs to be asked, ask it)
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
It has been a strange couple of days both personally and creatively. Went to bed on a thursday happy as a fresh bottle of wine and woke up a friday stuck in a rut. But I have to say that I am proud of myself I have created work this summer that I never thought I would be able to make, a personal goal has been fulfilled. I am still waiting for my professional photos to be sent to me but in the mean time here are two images of some recent work, greenware, waiting to be fired this up coming weekend.
The journey to the east coast was a mental shock to the girl. “Is this my new home?” she said. How could someone have a connection to such a naked city? Fueled by the need to prove herself to a family that didn't see her strength, and needing to prove to herself that this could be home, she rushed through two years of school with abandon.
One image always popped into her head when thinking of home. “My mother would cook my family dinner every night. She would stand there in this two person room surrounded by white cabinets, stained yellow, rummaging through the shelves looking for the Worcestershire sauce. She didn't belong here, although she was content she could have done so much more. She wanted to be an Astronaut, what happened?” After a pause and an irritated grunt she continued, “My father happened. The smell from the grilling meat would float in the air towards the adjacent living room. My father would be watching Star Trek or Channel 6 News, in his Lazy Boy, his chosen surroundings. He was a hero. Did you know that? He saved a boy from a burning house, or something like that. A police chief who brought his work home, a hazard of the job.”
Friday, July 9, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
In a quaint house, on a decaying farm, on the outskirts of Indianapolis, there lived a family that exhausted tension. Relationships developed then lost. A father's death, a brothers decision to leave, all causing a young girl to be lost in the ways of relationships. How could she recover, was it possible to express these emotions of turmoil in a self realizing way? This young girl's only want was to run away and be left alone. Only to realize that what she was running from was the very life she was hoping for. She would then live a life of regrets, social anxiety, and the need to express these burdens through an outlet. This outlet would be clay.
In the years to come this girl grew up. Developing through the awkward years glasses and pimples. Flying through the years of first independence, art school, drinking, smoking, and a two year college degree. Only to move one thousand miles away to the land of Patriots and snow. The East Coast, a land never before seen by the eyes of this Hoosier. Could this be the place to sort out the years? Would this be the venue for her maturing artistic stance?