Art Goes Here

Creative stuff!~

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Creative Type…Insanity

Me with kermit arms.

Sometimes I wish I had a second set of arms so I could get more done. No what I really need is to win the lottery so I can sit on my butt all day and draw. Not have to worry about food and bills and various other pesky things.

There seems to never be enough hours in the day. I feel as I can never produce enough as if I’m in some sort of race with…someone. While working on one piece, I’ll be thinking about another, then sometimes I’ll go do that. But then no I need to finish this first… I end up wasting more time waffling about then doing anything productive! >.<

Then there are the days I don’t do any art at all. Can’t be arsed. Nope not interested. I feel guilty then. Yeah I know craaazy! I should be doing something. Not wasting my time… Then I get all moody and flounce about. No wonder so many creative types have some sort of bad habit. They are tortured! TORTURED! I’m not too tortured though. Maybe first-world tortured, thankfully. Yes I’m thankful, so I’ll shut up now!  :D

– Fini –


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Winging It

Going to experiment with some random incoherent ramblings.

Winging it, making things I’d like to see. Going on a whim. Pretending to know what I’m doing ( I do to some extent ). Having a blast! It seems to work so what the eff.

I’ve thought about further education in Art. Only slightly interested. The negatives out weigh the positives as far as I see it. I can see myself in class;

Why? How come? Who says? Why? That’s boring. WHY?

I feel that if I do I’ll lose my style.  School I would like to take a class in Sumi-E though.

Now don’t let my confession make you believe that I am not the master of what ever I churn out though. I’m pretty confident about it. I rule myself, oh yeah. I wonder if you can still be an Outsider artist if you call yourself an Outsider artist.

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Boss Horse


I was looking through all my kid art, you know that stuff moms and pops put up on the frig, when I came across this picture of a horse.

This horse… This horse rides other horses to go places.  The Duke doesn’t ride this horse, this horse rides The Duke. Yes my friends, this is the Boss of Horses! Look at that stride, the regal mane. His eyes! Look in his eyes! They’ve seen things…

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I used to be an artist

I don’t talk about it. I don’t ever let on but I used to be an artist. Surprising? People who grew up with me know this but in general I don’t talk about it. I don’t like to explain. For about fifteen years me and art have been broken up. Until now. Times are a changing.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, why don’t I do art anymore? Why don’t I draw or paint when that used to be all I ever did? I’ve been disgruntled and discouraged you can say maybe even a little ‘butt-hurt’.

When I was in High School, in art class I had an art teacher who used to say to me “What does this mean?” Seems like an innocent enough question but this infuriated me. A sensitive artist hissy fit perhaps? I don’t know but I will tell you some of the things that ran through my head:

Why does it have to mean anything?
What do you think it means?
What does it mean to you?
fuuuu <– especially

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