Matters of the Heart

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(maybe some day)

Did you know?

My stomach still does somersaults when I see your picture

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!

Dedication to migration

A young friendship(and by young I mean length, not age) of mine(albeit, it felt like it spanned a depth of time), has tragically been derailed for greater and better horizons. Although the pain felt by this parting of the minds leaves me feeling hollowed where only the voids can be filled with sorrow, I deep down know this is for the best. The decision for this individual to move on to greater and better things as well as a different coast, will only aid in the over taking of the world by their success and achievements. I wish the best, though, I know best wishes aren't in order when applied to this individual, who possesses great drive, ambition, a giant brain and much talent in life.


I dedicate this song. For you left your home town, your haunt, your blood, to be impetuous and seek greatness and happiness

I’m pre-meditating crime of a personal kind

I’m about to go out of my mind
I’m just about sick to death of taking breath
And walking this line of mine

Now, folks that know what’s good for them
Are good at ignoring them
But I just can’t put these thoughts down
I’m harrowed and abused and broken and pursued
By this notion that follows me around

My heart is hurting, my spirit’s burdened
I feel like a liar and a thief
For taking air, for being here
Unwanted, I look for my final release

Goodbye, goodbye California
Goodbye and I’ll be moving on
I sang you my songs, I know I’m wrong
Fare thee well and I’ll be moving on

When I’m dead and gone
My immortal home will hold me in its bosom
Safe and cold, no more desires
Will light their fires or disturb my immaculate calm

And the birds of the air and the beast of the soil
And the fishes of the desperate seas
Will know who I am and our substance will expand
As part of everything

As part of everything, my god
As part of everything and the clouds will roll
And the wind will blow and the beautiful birds will sing

Goodbye, goodbye, California
Goodbye to your waving trees
To you succulent wind and all my friends
Fare thee well, goodbye, so be it
Amen
Amen

"Wasted time heals all wounds"

Was something someone once said...

I find myself currently disagreeing with that statement, as I seem to be opening old wounds with a sadistic slow ripping off of the metaphoric band-aid, with my wasted time. Delving into the mental archives of things once cherished, once held so high with a heart swelling force that knocked me for loop...

I blame the wine

How...

Let it die and get out of my mind
We don't see eye to eye
Or hear ear to ear

Don't you wish that we could forget that kiss
And see this for what it is
That we're not in love

The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start

It was hard to tell just how I felt
To not recognize myself
I started to fade away

And after all it won't take long to fall in love
Now I know what I don't want
I learned that with you

The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start
The tragedy starts from the very first spark
Losing your mind for the sake of your heart
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start

Sad day...

It’s a pity to me that kind words are only truly shared on a tragic occasion like a funeral. We should practice more the art of making our friends and loved ones feel loved; letting them know the special places they hold in our hearts and minds.

A dear friend of mine lost her husband far too early in life, at the age of 36; their children, lost their father. She has physically been there for me in the past through dark times and when physicality was not available, she provided her ear. She loves nothing more than to torture me by forcing human emotional interactions with hugs and to watch me squirm by telling me ‘I love you’; knowing full well that I am not good with exposing feelings. Today at her husband’s funeral, I freely offered up those words in return. I hope she knows that she’s got me in her corner for anything she needs.

One of my favorite poems came to mind during the service today, as it was spoken about how long her and her husband were involved in each other’s lives…since 7th grade.

Annabelle Lee
Edgar Allen Poe

"It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea. "

Single Awareness Day

Yes...that special day when lovers want forced affection and gifts as a token of proof for your love for them. It was never really my forte...personally, I feel people shouldn't need a specific day to treat someone special, it should be a daily ritual; if even a simple spoken gesture like "I love you", "Thinking about you" or "I miss you". Corny, indeed, but in my personal preference, it's the thought that truly counts. Even if that thought is simply a verbal one.

So that mental vomit out of the way...I spent my February 14th with some good friends in Seattle for a potluck. For the sheer sake of not wanting to be around the hopeless saps and the unfortunately forced. Dinner menu was as following:
5bottles of wine
Salmon
some fantastic cheeses and bakery bread
spinach dip
clams
pasta
green beans, baby broccoli and brussel sprouts




(a little more classy than 2girls1cup)