The End of the Beginning

I've been noodling around on a baby-wearing, art-nouveau-style tattoo design for my sister-in-law for probably close to a year now, and today I finally (finally!) nailed the pose (and got approval):

Like a Boss

I'm suuuuuuper excited to get to work on this piece: there is a lot of symbolism I want to work into the background, and chances are I'm going to have to finish it, and then produce a simplified version for the actual tattoo, but oh well when the mood strikes it strikes.

Stay tuned for more...

These Tools Will Move You

I walked out of the gym and it hit me- the lovely smell of too-hot metal.  I inhaled deeply, letting myself travel back to a time in my life when welding was a near-daily occurrence.  It was in college- specifically junior year- and working with metal made me feel like a powerful, fiery goddess.  It was a good time in my life, a very good time, and the smell inevitably fills me with a sort of giddiness.

tool of the trade

I knew the source (forgive the pun) of today's smell, of course- Michael and Brian had earlier asked if I minded moving my bike inside, as they were on a mission to move the bike racks.  So I came around the corner and watched them work for a bit before pedaling home, brain still dancing with memories.

Layers

I was sitting at the podiatrist today, my feet up at a ridiculous angle, wondering if they make you wait as long as they do in an attempt to let your feet "air out", when I glanced down at myself and saw this:

It's possible that I like bright colors.

which made me think of nothing so much as beautifully layered kimonos, and I was sad that you don't see much in the way of bright layering in the West, and so I took a photo to commemorate the occasion.



(I would gladly wear kimonos/yukatas as everyday wear.  Saris, too.  In fact, once a friend brought me a sari [and choli and lehenga] and I sure the hell did wear it around town on a semi-regular basis.  Got a lot of looks, but I'd long ago resigned myself to a lifetime of that experience...)

She Dreams in Ink and Flashing Needles

My infatuation with needlework is a relatively recent development (it was kindled back in December of '08; one of Nathan's Commercialmas was a lovingly cross-stitched towel that says "NARDDOG") but I am fairly certain it's going to turn into a life-long love affair. I've had a recent resurgence in my interest, which means that not only have I been doing it, I've also been reading about it (as I am wont to do with my various obsessions). I came across something Jenny Hart said in an interview that really struck a chord with me: "I like that embroidery serves no function. It's unlike knitting, crochet or sewing in that regard. Embroidery is pure embellishment. It's the frosting of needle arts, but it's almost always secondary to a functional object. It decorates something useful like a jacket, a tea-cozy, a pillowcase."

Or, as I paraphrased it to my mother during the conversation that made up part of the inspiration for this post, "Embroidery is purely ornamental- it serves no purpose other than to beautify."

This whole concept is kind of a big Thing with me. Form versus function, I mean. I am very much a Divided Person on that topic- on the one hand, I have this very pragmatic side that is very much concerned with useful things, and so long as a thing does what it is intended to do, who cares what it looks like? On the other hand, I'm a friggin' visual artist- you're damn right I care what things look like. Well, things that I make, at any rate. But at the same time the pragmatic part of me (which has a voice mush like my grandmother's, come to think of it) can't help but be slightly scandalized that I would "waste" time creating things no one "needs", rather than putting time and energy into something "useful". Because let's face it- we don't need beauty to survive. We need water, food, and shelter. Beauty is a luxury. It feeds the soul, sure- but we don't need it to propagate the species.

And yet.

Every culture that I'm familiar with finds some way to to create art- or at the very least find it in the world around them. Food for thought.

But back to the conversation with my mom. I also mentioned that I feel there's a real kinship between embroidery and tattooing- the needle goes in and out, leaving behind beautiful marks. She made what can only be called a noise of distaste at this observation, but the more I think about it the more I'm convinced it's a valid comparison- what is tattooing, if not embroidering the skin with ink rather than thread? It serves no survival purpose... but we do it, anyway. We embellish ourselves, have been embellishing ourselves for far longer than we've been embellishing pillow cases (...as far as I know. If an anthropologist in the crowd would like to give me an academic bitch-slap, by all means please do- I like learning stuff...)

Anyway my point is that it makes sense that I should be drawn to the decorative art of embroidery, since I'm so utterly besotted by the decorative art of tattoo (someday, someday I shall wield a needle of a buzzing sort...). And of course my brain is just exploding with art projects right now... ways to tie together my drawings, my tattoos, and my embroidery. Ink, thread, and needles...




(I honestly think this recent surge in creativity is directly tied to my recent bout of depression. Muses are joy-vampires I swear it...)

Witches Stitching With Heart Strings

I was in a bit of a Mood yesterday evening... really quite restless. I'm kind of annoying as hell when I get that way, and I know it, which in turn makes me feel even worse about it. It's one of those moods where even tho' I have plenty of things I could be doing, I don't want to be doing any of them. I hate that mood so much... but then out of the blue it struck me that what I really wanted to do, damn it, was some cross-stitching.

I hadn't done any stitching for quite a few months... not since I started this blog, I think. But I pulled out my shoe box marked "X-Stitch" and rooted around until I settled on a project. I got to work and let me tell you- I was one seriously Soothed Artist. There is something so... well, to re-use the word, soothing about making all those find little stitches. Very meditative, very calming. Settled me right down. (Nathan was relieved.)

The truth of the matter is that I am absolutely fascinated by the fiber arts- and highly envious of the women (and men) who do them well. I've dabbled in many of them- quilting, crocheting, knitting, embroidery... even mending (which if you don't think is an art then you haven't ever had to do it yourself). I'm not exactly hopeless at any of them, but I'm pretty sure I'm not overly gifted, either. Nonetheless, I always feel incredibly satisfied when I start plying needle and thread. (I have much the same relationship with with clay, actually, but that's another- and messier- entry entirely).

I think one of the things I like best about stitching is the way you can really put intention into every pull of the thread. It occurred to me last year, as I was making a "muse focus" for a friend of mine (in the form of an embroidered handkerchief); each color I laid down I imbued with a certain trait: Now I'm sewing in courage, now loyalty, now empathy, now joy, now love... It's a process that lends itself well to magic, I'd think. Not flashy magic, but secret magic: women's magic... a magic primarily used for protection, crafted with needle and heart-string.



(By the way, young adult author Tamora Pierce happens to agree with me [or perhaps I agree with her, since she is my elder]. She has several instances of thread-based magic in her books, and I love what she does with them.)

See Jenny O Draw. Draw, Jenny O! Draw!

Today we are going to focus on Things Jenny O Hates Drawing.

Specifically, Jenny O hates drawing backgrounds. Like, a lot. I am pretty much only interested in drawing people. Rare is the compulsion to draw anything else, especially man-made thingies like architecture, so when the urge hits, I must submit, even if it means I don't get to go inside and see famous dead people with everyone else:

(did I spend two hours drawing the incredibly detailed North Face of Westminster Abbey? Yes I did.)

But that's not what we're talking about. No, today we're talking about the fact that I'm giving you an update on the pencils of my little Serenity fanfic, because I am conceited enough to believe you are interested in the process. Hell, you already read my ramblings, you may as well be subjected to the visual components, as well.

(There's a point here, I promise.)

The point is that you will notice that in not one but two of these panels there are backgrounds. What is up. Yes, Georges Jeanty, I finally took your long-ago advice and put something in the background.

(page one is further along in progress than...)

(...page two)

And... and I have to admit that... that I kinda like the effect. Damn it. Stupid grounding of objects in space (this sentence is hilarious to me because that's the name of the episode of Firefly I watched last night for interior-Serenity reference). It's just so friggin' obnoxious, because it means I'm going to have to do it more often. Ugh and horrors and stupid suffering for stupid craft...

On the other hand, it means I'm depriving Nathan of the opportunity to look at my work and raise his eyebrows and say in That Tone, "I notice there are no backgrounds..." so that's cheerful.

Speaking of that dude to whom I am married, he's out of town, which makes me grumples (although it does tend to leave me with more time to spend hunched over the drawing desk). He'll be back tomorrow, however, and then I shall be grumples no more! And in the meantime I think I'll just comfort myself with crack-n-cheese and maybe some Netflix... mmm, carbs...

Pretty Is Apparently Not Always As Pretty Does

Wow, I don't want to write. At all. I have used up all my creative energy working on my little two-page Serenity comic (thought I forgot about it, didn't you? Well I didn't) and putting together the first half of a photo album chronicling our UK adventures for the purpose of sending it to my grandparents. Run on sentence for the win. Anyway I had to stop the first one when I screwed up Simon's face three times in a row (he is the easiest of the grouping to draw, and normally I can bust him out no problem- it is a definite sign that I've gotten Too Tired To Work when I have to keep erasing "easy character"). And then my back hurt, because it had been a long damn time since I'd sat and drawn at a desk for more than a few minutes. It makes me irritated with myself for not using my gifts... but then I tell myself there is no point in being irritated- just acknowledge that I need to do better, and then do better.

That being said, it is too hot in here, and I have a headache. Blargh.

Nathan took a picture of me while I was being all cranky and horrible earlier. It blows my mind that that man not only puts up with me in all my moods, but still thinks I'm attractive and worth being married to. But then, I guess that's why I married him.

There is a hairball on the floor that I so don't want to clean up. ::sigh::

Ugh (I'm So Vain)

I knew it was going to happen eventually. It's kind of the major problem with being a Muse (as opposed to being Amusing, which has an entirely different set of troubles). Enough people take your photograph and/or draw/paint/whatever your image, and sooner or later someone is going to not just turn out an image you don't like, but actually use the damn thing for their 365 Project.

My husband, of course, insists that it's not unflattering at all. He is obviously biased and a bit touched in the head (and also enchanted with the colors, something I cannot really fault him for because he did capture some sumptuous colors on that bad boy). And lest you think this is some sort of compliment-fishing scheme on my part, I want to point out that I am not questioning my own level of attractiveness (which I happen to think is quite high, thankyouverymuch)- I am speaking as an artist (both one who creates images and one who inspires them) critiquing an image of a person and whether or not said image portrays them in the most flattering light.

Which this image most decidedly does not (well, minus the ironic fact that the lighting itself is one of the most flattering you can get- "golden hour" and all that...). For instance, the placement of various shadows give me a pronounced brow-ridge, emphasize the bags under my eyes, and over-define the folds around my mouth, all of which add haggard years to my appearance. And speaking of my mouth just what the hell was I doing with it? I don't know! It's weird and uncomfortable to look at. Also my hairline appears freakishly straight. And I'm squinting. But that's only to be expected since I was looking into the sun, which normally I can do just fine for photos but if I'm forced to hold it for too long (which I was, in this instance) the result is Unflattering Squint.

Basically what I'm saying is that I am dissatisfied in a professional capacity with the image I helped to create. But since my artist is pleased with it, it doesn't much matter; he didn't take that photo for me, he took it for him- and he likes it. So I just need to suck it up and enjoy the colors.

Or something.

Now, all that being said, it is a good photo, technically speaking (just not of me); you've got your composition broken into thirds, your extreme sharpness, and of course the gorgeous, gorgeous contrast. The play of light across my irises (emphasized by the shadow of my lashes) is especially pleasing, and the copper-red of my hair just glows against that diffuse green and blue background. Strictly speaking I think it's not the best cropping choice on the lower part of the image (and not just because it emphasizes the roundness of my face) but I don't think that was actually chosen- I think it's just how the shot ended up being framed. All in all, it is a good photo....

...just not of me.




(Also, I think it's only fair to point out that Nathan did offer to take it down, once he realized how much I truly dislike the image- but I told him if he did so he'd waste a perfectly good blog entry... ;) No but seriously- I meant what I said. He didn't take that shot for me, he took it for him, and he likes it- so as long as he's satisfied with it I don't mind so much. Besides, it's probably good for my character to see images of myself that aren't 'perfect'...)

Voracious

The problem with muses is that they don't work for free.

Not that they want coin- which may or may not be fortunate for we starving artists who worship them. No, there is only one currency those creatures are interested in, only one currency which holds any sway-

Mortal joy.

You see, mortal emotions burn so much more brightly than those of the immortal beings, because they are compressed into such short life spans. Everything we feel- joy, anger, sadness- in comparison to how the immortals experience things, they are emotional concentrate. More pure than purity itself.

You might think that the muses would be satisfied with any emotion, so long as it was mortal, but the truth is, things like tragedy and despair hold no interest for them. They are too familiar by far with those experiences (hence the tragedy inherent in so much of great art). And love, what some mortals would think to be the most divine of all mortal experiences- that holds even less interest for them. After all, they have too often seen the results of this most destructive of emotions. Thus they content themselves with joy, with happiness, even with serenity and contentment. These are the emotions they are hungry for, and these are the sacrifices they demand of their supplicants.

How do I know these things? How could I not? Have I not noticed, time and again, that my highest art emerges only when I am sunk in the depths of despair? They say you must suffer for your art, and I know it to be true- because unless I surrender what is joyful and good in my mind, in my heart, in my very soul- how shall the muse be fed? And if the muse is not fed, whence my inspiration? So I welcome gray depression with open arms, because I know the muse must have her due- and soon I will create again.

Random Brain Blurbs? Sure, Why Not...

I love the smell of spring in the South (pollen count notwithstanding). Summer, too, for that matter. It was one of the only things (emphasis on things rather than people) I missed while I was living in the northwest. There are many wonderful scents up there, but none of the flowers can even begin to compare to the riot of jasmine, honeysuckle, and magnolia that takes over the warm summer nights here in the Heart of Dixie.

My brain is a little bit all over the place tonight- I've been in a rather Industrious mood, which means things are getting checked off my To Do list with abandon, but the fact of the matter is that I just spent about four hours working on a stupid play list for my H2O Bootcamp tomorrow night, and I'm really starting to question my sanity. Don't get me wrong- I like making play lists (never would have lasted so long as a DJ, otherwise) but it does bring a certain level of irritation to it when I also have to figure out choreography for the darn thing. And this is the third one I've made since January. And I only get paid like $15 a class (if that- I haven't seen a paycheck in few weeks, and I'm about to bring it up with the Powers That Be). What is wrong with me??

Anyway, putting so much time and effort into that thing means that I didn't get to the spate of other things on the To Do list for the evening (although Nathan sweetly did a few for me) which makes me feel a bit grumpy. And I'm supposed to have read the first ten chapters of Moby Dick by tomorrow, and I haven't even finished the first five.

Also, I haven't been drawing lately, so when I tried to render Sallie the other day it came out embarrassingly awful. Why do we have to practice our skills? Why can't they just stay sharp always, ready to come out and play whenever I want them?

Whine whine whine.

I think I'm done for now. Hopefully we'll return to our regularly scheduled program of useful writing tomorrow... (also, I like Nate's picture today so I shall link to it, in spite of lacking the energy to write it the short story it deserves...)

Manic... Thursday?

So today was one of those days on the more manic end of my emotional cycle. I was (to say the least) Restless with a capital R, infused with a sort of borderline panic/desperation, with no identifiable source. It's an unpleasant sensation (as much as I'm familiar with it at this point in my life), but it signifies that I need to do something- generally create something- or I'll implode. As such, I started scripting out a comic that's been percolating in my brain for close to three years. I'm not certain how well, exactly, that sort of thing will translate to this sort of thing (this sort of thing being blogging), but it's what I wrote so here it is. I'm a little loathe to post this, because even though obviously everything I post on here is in rough-draft form, this is like super-ultra rough, without even the benefit of my thumbnail sketches to help show you what's going on (I don't do a particularly detailed script when I'm the artist, 'cos the descriptions are already in my head). It may be that in the future I will decide to make this blog either/or regarding writing/art, but for now we're sticking with the written part. It may or may not make any sense to you, especially my shorthand.

(Also, I must warn you- this "short snippet" takes up almost seven word processor pages, so if you're brave enough to bother reading any further than this, there will be a lot of scrolling involved...)


PAGE ONE

Panel One: The exterior of a large book/music store (NOBLE EDGES) at night.
NAR: Like many good love stories, this one begins in a book store. Also like many love stories (both good and bad) the narration concludes in an airport...

Panel Two: tighten field to front window, hazy view of info desk
NAR: ..but we'll worry about that when we get there. For now, let us focus on the bookstore, and the players who are even now about to meet in a manner most cute.

Panel Three: info desk, a girl at a computer, a man (Co-Worker) walking up to her
CW: Hey EDIE, I need you to check on something for me.

Panel Four: EDIE has turned to look at CW, questioning look on her face. CW is gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb
CW: I need you to go talk to that guy in music.

Panel Five: EDIE leans over to look

Panel Six: music is deserted, save for a nice-looking young man listening to music, wearing an over-sized coat

Panel Seven: EDIE looks back at CW, confused.

EDIE: Um, sure.

PAGE TWO

Panel One: CU on the young man, who is taking off the headphones.

Panel Two: Same angle (further back), but EDIE pops up in the background. She is considerably shorter than the boy.

Panel Three: Boy gets suspicious look on his face, eyes shift to left. EDIE grinning like a damn fool.

Panel Four: Boy startled, EDIE grinning
EDIE: Hi!
PIRE: Ack!

Panel Five: EDIE looking contrite, PIRE still vaguely heart-attack-y
EDIE: Oh I’m sorry! I was just wondering if I could help you with anything.

Panel Six: PIRE is straightening up
PIRE: Oh, well, yes, actually.

PAGE THREE:

Panel One: PIRE is holding out a few cds, EDIE is looking at them
PIRE: I was trying to decide which of these I want to blow my meager horde of cash on. Any recommendations?

Panel Two: EDIE making a “Hmm” sort of face, considering the selection
EDIE: Hmmm…

Panel Three: EDIE pointing to them.
EDIE: To be honest, I’ve never heard of these guys. THIS album is pretty decent, but THIS one…

Panel Four: CU of CD (The Eraser), w/EDIE’S finger
EDIE: …THIS one is amazing

Panel Five: CU on EDIE’S face as she grows glowy-eyed, looking particularly attractive
EDIE: This one sounds like what falling in love FEELS like- sort of terrible and wonderful and frightening all at once, like you have no control- you just have to be taken by it.

PAGE FOUR

Panel One: CU of PIRE, looking stunned

Panel Two: PIRE shakes himself

Panel Three: the two of them looking at one another
PIRE: Well…

Panel Four: still looking at one another, but PIRE with a goofy grin
PIRE: …that sounds pretty good.

Panel Five: EDIE grinning back at him
EDIE: Oh it is.

PAGE FIVE

Panel One: EDIE ringing PIRE up
PIRE: Thanks for the input.
EDIE: You’re very welcome!

Panel Two: EDIE watches him leave.

Panel Three: EDIE still staring after him
EDIE: Huh.

Panel Four: EDIE leaves the register.

Panel Five: Back at the info desk, EDIE leans casually against the counter. CW, focuses on the computer
EDIE: So, uh, why did you want me to talk to him?
CW: I thought he might be a shop-lifter.

Panel Six: EDIE looks shocked, CW withering
EDIE: What?! Holy crap, I didn’t even think of that. I just thought you were being nice by pointing out a cute guy.
CW: Um, no. Great as my middle-managerial power is, it does not extend to match-making.

Panel Seven: EDIE looks rueful, CW disgusted
EDIE: Well… definitely not a shop-lifter. But definitely cute.
CW: Snort.

PAGE SEVEN

Panel One: NOBLE EDGES again, with a car screeching to a halt in front
NAR: some weeks later…

Panel Two: EDIE clambering out of the passenger-side door
EDIE: thankyouthankyouthankyoucrapcrapcrap!

Panel Three: Birds-eye of the store, EDIE leaving a trail as she zips through to the back
EDIE: latelatelatesorrysorrysorryheythere!crapcrapcraphow’sitgoing?CRAP…

Panel Four: PIRE, looking at a book

Panel Five: PIRE, startled, wind-blown, as EDIE streaks by
EDIE:latelatelate…

PAGE EIGHT

Panel One: PIRE looks after the streak
PIRE TB: …was that…?

Panel Two: CU on EDIE clocking in at :05 past

Panel Three: EDIE, triumphant
EDIE: MADE IT!

Panel Four: CW handing EDIE her lanyard, but she is looking distracted
CW: I will pretend I did not witness that
EDIE TB: Wait, did I just see…

Panel Five: EDIE looking around the corner- but no PIRE

Panel Six: EDIE makes determined face.

Panel Seven: EDIE looks around another corner- she cannot see that PIRE is behind her

Panel Eight: Repeat

PAGE NINE

Panel One: EDIE walking up to the info desk, looking disgruntled. CW is already there, working.

Panel Two: EDIE looks thoughtful. CW continues to work.

Panel Three: EDIE looks at CW from the corner of her eyes.

Panel Four: EDIE bursts out, CW looks freaked
EDIE: I think that Shoplifter guy is here!

Panel Five: CW looks angry enough to kill someone, EDIE taken aback
CW: What?! Where! I swear if that punk takes any more manga…
EDIE: What? No, no, not an ACTUAL shoplifter- that cute guy you THOUGHT was a shoplifter.

Panel Six: now CW is confused, EDIE sheepish
CW: …huh?
EDIE: A few weeks ago? The music department? You told me to go talk to him?

Panel Seven: EDIE still all sheepish grin, CW annoyed.
EDIE: I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy.
CW: Ooookay.

PAGE TEN

Panel One: They continue to exchange Looks

Panel Two: EDIE whirling away, grabbing a lone book. CW rolling eyes
EDIE: I’m going to go shelve!
CW (UNDERTONE): AKA “stalk”

Panel Three: EDIE walking down an aisle, looking hopefully to the left…

Panel Four: ..and to the right

Panel Five: EDIE looking down at the book in her hand, scowling, but in the background PIRE’S head has popped up.
EDIE: Grumble.

Panel Six: EDIE is shelving a book, PIRE trying to look nonchalant as he approaches.
EDIE (UNDERTONE): Make room, you!

PAGE ELEVEN

Panel One: EDIE turns to her right and sees PIRE, they face one another, looking startled.

Panel Two: EDIE stands and they face one another
EDIE: I’m sorry, I know maybe this sounds crazy, but are you the one…
PIRE: (overlapping her) YES!

Panel Three: They break into embarrassed laughter.

PAGE TWELVE

Panel One: Both blushing, EDIE trying to appear alluring as she looks up at PIRE
EDIE: Well alright then.

Panel Two: EDIE tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, PIRE is grinning like a maniac.
EDIE: Um, did you like-
PIRE: YES!

Panel Three: EDIE looks a little taken aback, PIRE mortified.
PIRE: I mean, you were right. It was very good. Definitely worth my time.

Panel Four: EDIE smiles at him tentatively
EDIE: I’m glad you thought so.

Panel Five: They continue to smile like idiots at one another

Panel Six: EDIE starts to look a little uncomfortable, PIRE looks blurt-y
EDIE: Sooo…
PIRE: …I need a book!

PAGE THIRTEEN

Full Page: EDIE is grinning up at PIRE, who is looking inordinately pleased
EDIE: Well you’re in luck. You just so happen to be in Noble Edges, home to both music AND books, and I just so happen to be phenomenally good at my job. Which is telling you what’s worth your time.
PIRE: A skill you have already proven in the music half of the store.
EDIE: That I have. What kind of book do you need?
PIRE: It’s a gift, for my sister’s birthday.
EDIE: What’s your sister into?
PIRE: I’m not sure, exactly- but I know her sense of humor is like mine.
EDIE: Oh? And what kind of a sense of humor are you in possession of?
PIRE: Undoubtedly twisted.

PAGE FOURTEEN

Panel One: CU of EDIE, making a Thinking Face
EDIE: Hmmm

Panel Two: CU of EDIE’S A-Ha face
EDIE: I know!

Panel Three: EDIE reaches for PIRE’S arm, looking determined. He looks surprised but happy
EDIE: Come with me!

Panel Four (long): She drags him through the bookstore
EDIE: Nope, nope, nope

Panel Five: They are standing beneath a sign that says “Humor”, EDIE making a thoughtful face, PIRE still looking pleased
EDIE: Gorey, Gorey Gorey…

Panel Six: EDIE finds the book
EDIE: HERE it is!

Panel Seven: EDIE presents PIRE with a book, he looks down

Panel Eight (inset): CU on the book
PIRE: “The Gashlycrumb Tinies”?

Off to a Bangin' Start

Let us take a moment to appreciate the particularly "Oh no, Jenny O!" moment I am having: this is my 365 project (which I unofficially began yesterday and am officially beginning right now). Shall we take a quick glance down at the time stamp on this bad boy? What's that? Does it say that I waited until exactly 2315 to begin this entry? (No really- does it? I'm not sure if that thing catches the start time or the post time...) (EDIT: Yes, yes it does)

Yeah, that's right- all day long I have been worring and wondering over what to write- all day long I have said, "I need to get online and write!" But it wasn't until just now, less than an hour 'til midnight (and way past my bedtime) that I finally screeched, "OmigodIneedtogowritethisthingrightthehellnow!"

::sigh::

Part of the reason for this last minute start is that I've spent quite a bit of the day laboring over the design for my brother's next tattoo- a tattoo which he is getting tomorrow, before he flies back to FAFB on Sunday. So there was something of a time crunch- and I'm down at my Mom's house, without all my tools. That particular combination has put me in a full-on Snarly Artist Funk... a mood which, oddly enough, is almost comforting- because it means I am doing art. Wandering around delerious from lack of sleep, muttering obscenities under my breath, feeling put-upon, under-appreciated, and generally martyred- it's almost like I'm back in school. Except there's no one here muttering with me. Granted, Nate began his project today, as well- he is currently processing his photos- but he is irritatingly non-fractious about the whole thing. Which of course only serves to futher grumpify me. How dare he be creative and not insane.

It's a decent start to the year- did three miles this (semi) morning (not all of it at a run, but hush); spent some quality time in the bosom of my family; bought two new books on philosophy; hammered out a (if I do say so myself) freaking sweet piece of art; and (finally) wrote something. Before midnight. All in all, not a bad way to spend the day.

(nevermind the fact that I still have no theme)