Tonight I worked on my two paintings for Mindy's class. One I was loving and one I hated. Not just dissatisfaction, but a venomous, angry hate. Both paintings are so similar, it is stupid. I realize I hate this girly, tidy, cutie pie character because she is too sweet. The point of the class is to remember our innocent childhood selves and create from that place. To paint for the joy of it and not to fret and edit everything down. I start to think maybe I can't recall that time. Maybe it was too far back. Maybe I was born with worry and mistrust. I think I hate this girl because I never was her. Wearing a frilly skirt with a ribbon sash? The bright colors. She is way too optimistic. Too good. Not rebelling against anything. I collaged in a piece that will become a big white dandy owl with purple boots. It also toned down the brightness and I have hope for it now.
Piece number two, I fell in love with. Really hard. She is a girl with a big, sad, moon face. No hair yet. Sketchy antlers. I saw her carrying a pack on a stick and quickly added it. I put a pink ball in her hand. She is the child I was. Dreaming of running away into the forest. Holding my favorite silly gift from my dad. The Pinky Ball. It was stamped on the ball in fancy script so that was what I called it. When I lost that ball in a monstrous bush of thorns, I cried and tried far too hard to retrieve it. It cost exactly eighty eight cents because it was from Boyd's 88 Cent Store. Dad bought it for me on one of our sporadic weekend visits. When I lost my Pinky ball, I knew I wouldn't be able to bounce it everyday and remember that weekend. I could get another, but I'd had that one for close to a year. We'd bonded. I loved its patina of dirt. I had grown too fond of it. It became my very heart, always in my hand or my pocket. I knew that it didn't make sense. This proof of my melancholy preciousness. It was a mirror of desperate, clinging, sadness.
Similarly, I let myself fall too in love with the deer girl. I got very precious with the lace on her dress and I know she needs hair, but I'm afraid to lose that fragile homeliness that I love about her. She might be too cute, which is what I hate about the other one! I added a house she is running from and a tree. Need more trees. Also, it is getting too bright. So yellow! I want to give her stringy hair. I like to give my characters big noses and thin stringy hair like I had. And slutty makeup and sadness. I might be slightly fucked up, but this is what I need to work out and it feels good right now. Maybe I'm not ready to make those frolicking innocent girls. These are closer than anything I've ever made before anyway.
So, I wrote this a while ago. 6 weeks or so? I never posted it because I didn't get around to adding in the photos. Now I can't find the photo of the finished deer girl with hair, so I'll have to take another. These are the little things that halt me. Little tiny peas under my mattress. They stop the flow and start the downward spiral that end in me feeling like everything is nothing. None of it is anything. What is the point? I hate you, peas. I'm chucking you out. Flipping the mattress over to get at the tiny pea though, that is quite a process. It's worth it though. I carry on.
Piece number two, I fell in love with. Really hard. She is a girl with a big, sad, moon face. No hair yet. Sketchy antlers. I saw her carrying a pack on a stick and quickly added it. I put a pink ball in her hand. She is the child I was. Dreaming of running away into the forest. Holding my favorite silly gift from my dad. The Pinky Ball. It was stamped on the ball in fancy script so that was what I called it. When I lost that ball in a monstrous bush of thorns, I cried and tried far too hard to retrieve it. It cost exactly eighty eight cents because it was from Boyd's 88 Cent Store. Dad bought it for me on one of our sporadic weekend visits. When I lost my Pinky ball, I knew I wouldn't be able to bounce it everyday and remember that weekend. I could get another, but I'd had that one for close to a year. We'd bonded. I loved its patina of dirt. I had grown too fond of it. It became my very heart, always in my hand or my pocket. I knew that it didn't make sense. This proof of my melancholy preciousness. It was a mirror of desperate, clinging, sadness.
Similarly, I let myself fall too in love with the deer girl. I got very precious with the lace on her dress and I know she needs hair, but I'm afraid to lose that fragile homeliness that I love about her. She might be too cute, which is what I hate about the other one! I added a house she is running from and a tree. Need more trees. Also, it is getting too bright. So yellow! I want to give her stringy hair. I like to give my characters big noses and thin stringy hair like I had. And slutty makeup and sadness. I might be slightly fucked up, but this is what I need to work out and it feels good right now. Maybe I'm not ready to make those frolicking innocent girls. These are closer than anything I've ever made before anyway.
So, I wrote this a while ago. 6 weeks or so? I never posted it because I didn't get around to adding in the photos. Now I can't find the photo of the finished deer girl with hair, so I'll have to take another. These are the little things that halt me. Little tiny peas under my mattress. They stop the flow and start the downward spiral that end in me feeling like everything is nothing. None of it is anything. What is the point? I hate you, peas. I'm chucking you out. Flipping the mattress over to get at the tiny pea though, that is quite a process. It's worth it though. I carry on.
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