And it's off!!!

Fingers crossed that someone other than close friends find my art acceptible...

Seppuku

My paintings usually don’t have a deep meaning to them. For the most part, I love taking some of my favorite topics, like Alice in Wonderland or the Macabre and translate them through the beauty of the female form. That’s not to say I haven’t painted some with a message or meaning...of which those usually fell under the times of emotional distress or the confusion of love, heartache or pain. Then all the sudden I become a big weepy vagina and quite literally paint shit like a woman offering her heart in her hand; translation: total literal girly emo dribble.

Through my quest of higher education, I have discovered the joys of funding-or rather-lack there of. Thus, I am aiming pretty high for a scholarship through AOL that would fund a full year of school and then some. Due to this, I decided to challenge myself by working with acrylic paints; I’m not so much a fan…yet. It’s a long slow process that finds me getting sick(literally hacking as I type this) from long hours of painting, lack of sleep, and drunk quicker during the process, than with the quickness and ease I find while I work in my typical medium-Gouache (sounds like gwash). This painting is a huge step out of my comfort zone. So I hope by doing that, I am expanding my horizon of style and technique. I will continue to work on it after submission, as I want to do more but for the sake of the scholarship, I hope that I've put forth a clear and concise message while expressing the beauty of women that I love and my knowledge of colors. I find sometimes that some artist's messages are so convoluted under paint that it puzzles the viewer all together.

(painting starts with this)

(involves a whole lotta this)

Some can’t fathom what emotions the metaphoric human heart can endure. Some build walls around it and some just lay it all out there in open abandonment. In a not too distant world of Mel, in a time not far past, I experienced an amazing opening of my heart. Someone dared to break down the epic battle resistant walls that surrounded my emotional ooey gooey girly puke. Thus I wore my heart openly, the way my art subject wears hers for the world to see. It was amazing, I am thankful; it was the best and worst thing to happen to me. I however, failed to grasp this new openness and see it to fruition...thus my heart now bears a tremendous pain that I still struggle to dull to a mere ache...

This painting is something of an experiment in the emotional band-aid sense as well. I am hoping that by pouring my heart’s pain over this person into this piece, I will gain some inner peace. Much like she is about to preform Seppuku on her life, I am preforming a form of it by gutting myself of this pain.

The walls that were previously knocked down, have been reconstructed with a stronger mortar. I still desire the ability to love and be loved…but for now, the healing needs more time as this person still very much dances through the arteries of my heart.

(too much drink+sloppy painter=paint on face)

and with that, my purring companion says ":p...go to bed"

When something comes up and emotionally side swipes you...

God Arcade Fire, you melt me. There’s something about Funeral that brings a flood of heart attacking memories. And it always knows when my guts are reeling with emotions

In 2005/06 my life was in a self induced upheaval. I had never ventured life outside of Southern California and the previous paths I had chosen were doing me great injustice. Of what you might ask? Well the fact that there is so much to explore, learn and live through and I was merely picking my ass while I rotted away in an area nicknamed “land of the dirt people”; I had to move, I had to get the fuck out. I remember when I heard the Funeral in its entirety; it was whilst sitting down to a beer, with a fellow redhead. That album bookmarked the already known subconscious decision in to solidification, that I was about to embark on new adventures.

My wanderlust…it was born. I now know I can up and move and land on my feet. Granted the landing is the hardest part and in my case a shaky one. With the love and support of family and friends, I preserver. My wanderlust, she still hungers…I feel I’m destined for something fantastic but how do you find that fantastic when you don’t know what the hell it is? And of course, I can’t get to that pretty pretty fantastic moment without actually doing SOMETHING… Perhaps my life is truly just walking this earth, watching my shadow grow long beneath my strides and doing it alone with only my own soul to share it with…or maybe it’s to use these great hips to pop out a bunch of puppies. But since I have disdain for children, we’ll go with option A.

Of course all of this brain over-analyzing could be a fierce side effect from my new corduroy pants being tragically too tight; creating not only a muffin-muffin-top-gurl but also cutting blood flow somehow to my thought center. Either way, I give mad props to Levi’s for the button not busting and producing attire that affectively remind me to eat better, lay off the beer and lose an inch from my mid section.

Cheers

Look in my eyes, I am serious...these pants are tight!