Prussian blue

Blue. The feeling. The feeling of Prussian blue. Deep, vast blue. Lonely blue. Filled with memories.

Are we as a race doomed to self destruct? Are we doing anything else? Is anything we do not destructive?

Where is the line drawn between destruction and creation? Nothing really disappears. My body is new now, seven years ago I was a completely different person. Every cell in my body has been renewed since then. Every single cell, every atom has been something else. The body that I had when I was born is something else now. What is it now? A bird? A different person? A flower? A hat? Probably. 

I'm painting and crying and painting and questioning why I keep caring about people. And I answer. 

I need to. Everyone needs to care. We are humans and need interaction, interaction needs care. Love. How can I not love everyone when they could be me? Strangers that I meet are built from the same stardust and dinosaur poop and old trees and forgotten beasts and feathers that I am. The people I love are built from atoms that might have lived in my body. We are physically connected by this little planet that we try so hard to kill. 

I want to paint the feeling of staring up into the summer sky and it's so clear that - even though it's daytime - you feel like you can see out into space, right through the atmosphere. I want to paint the feeling of dizziness after lying on your back and looking up and suddenly feeling like you'll lose your grip of the planet and just soar... 

I want to paint the pain in love and the anger in caring, the sickness of our race, the constant stupidity and beauty that is life. It's worth the pain even though I can never paint that, even though my paintings are infantile and stupid, even though my art will probably never mean anything to anybody. It's worth the pain of wanting to make something beautiful. To having salt in your face from all the tears but still pressing the last few drops of Prussian blue out of the tube. 

The feeling of love is worth the pain of having idiot friends, the feeling of creativity is worth the pain of creativity. 

Today I started taking my new meds. Even though I don't want to. I want the pain because I need the creativity, I want the need to paint a feeling, I need the anger and sadness and frustration to make something even a little bit good. I need to be me if I want the chance to breathe life into my art. And it's worth the pain even though the art is bad. 

Small victories

I went to bed before three. I did an important thing. I beat my high score at a meaningless game on my phone. I finished "Enders game" on audio book and started on "Enders shadow". I really like them. I started on a realistic painting based on a selfie I took this morning. I focused too much on detail and now it looks wonky but I can probably fix it tomorrow.

Goodnight. 

Every damn night it's the same

I think "soon I'll go to bed" and then I paint and then it's god damn four in the morning.

At least I've been in a pretty good mood today. And I survived the first day of my new, even lower dose of meds with only ... Well, a lot of abstinence jitters and forgetfulness and stuff. But you know. No suicide today!

Another day closer to dying of old age. ASAP.

Tonight I'm goin to bed early

I think every night. And then, when I think "okay enough painting and audio book listening for one evening" and look at the time it's fucking three in the fucking morning again! And when I go to get ready for bed I realize that I forgot the last of the dishes I said I'd do and I accidentally make a lot of noise and one of the people I live with is really easily woken up and I know they'll be disappointed in the morning because there's still dishes and I feel like absolute crap. I don't want to start doing dishes at three in the morning even if it is Saturday. I brush my teeth and go to bed feeling like the failure that I am.

And I still feel bad about a character in a book that died and I feel like I'm trying to make up for a lifetime of painting with acrylics in just a few days with drying oil paintings on every surface I can find. And I'm painting on everything, peices of cardboard, old paper bags, card stock, everything with a surface. And it's bad. Most of my paintings are crap. I know it's a step towards getting less crappy but it's frustrating to see amazing artists make better things than I can ever hope to make and never get any recognition, and to see people who can't paint for shit get rich. I know it's just my opinion but yeah. I guess most artists have opinions on art. Whatever. My infantile crap is going up on the art blog along with the doll that I'm actually really happy with. 

Anyways my throat hurts why does it do that I wish it would stop. I wish I was not stupid from withdrawal. I wish my sleep schedule would stop being fucked up. I wish I was... Happy?

The zone

My first two oil paintings took several days to complete. I started them (alternating between them to let paint dry a little between layers) on Sunday and finished them both last night. The third one I started today and finished today. The fourth one was a quickie to use up the paints left on the palette. Even though it was technically larger than all the previous ones. I'm in a frenzy. I can't not paint. Sometimes I need a short brake to not stare myself completely blind at the piece I'm working on so I knit a few rows but pretty soon I'm back to painting. Discovering oil felt like coming home, like finding the missing piece of myself, like the most fun thing I've ever done. I suddenly understand something that I can't explain. It sounds stupid I know but it's almost four in the morning and after finishing the third and fourth oil paintings I had to knit for like 40 minutes just to wind down.

I'm listening to audio books by Christopher Moore while painting and I love them. I finished welcome to night vale and the style and feeling remind me of Moore and John dies at the end in a completely delicious combination. I wonder if jdate has been recorded as an audio book. I have the actual book but there we have my 'concentration problem'; I need more than one thing to focus on or I start thinking about something else and forget what I'm doing. 

Now I really have to sleep. Can't mess up my sleep cycle again. (Or, it always ends up with me falling asleep between three and four when I don't really make an effort to keep it "normal"...)

Tomorrow I will eat the traditional bun with whipped cream and milk. It's totally weird. I'll explain tomorrow. 

365 creative days; day 1

My first day of my 2014 creativity challenge/resolution. It's the swedish word for "c*nt". I chose it because I want to try to change the way we use the word. I want it to be a good word, because it is a good thing. The lettering is (actually not intentionally) made to look like the word "like" and I like that detail.

Vaginas are amazing.

Sashiko-inspired mending embroidery

So I bought this skirt for myself for... I think my 24th birthday. I have loved it so much and worn it until threadbare. I started mending it about a year ago and have kept adding patches to it continuously. I think one day I might have only patches left, and none of the original fabric. I love the idea.

The method I'm using is inspired by the ancient Japanese technique "sashiko", which is originally made into intricate patterns in white on blue background, but my simple technique is still very functional for strengthening the fabric.

There are patches both on the inside and the outside.

Now it's two minutes to midnight and thereby 2014. I guess we're pausing "the holy grail" and having dry cider on the balcony.

Wet and cold

It's been raining and snowing. The weather is the kind of wet, icy cold that gets you whatever you're wearing.

I feel sorry for our nude model. But drawing nudes is lots of fun so that makes the day much better than it would have been otherwise.

In other news I'm insane. I'm totally crazy mad about that sweet wonderful person in Texas. I've never fallen in love over the Internet before and it's strange and a bit scary but wonderful.

New favorites

Hey guys it's me. I found this artist today over at Society6, Tim Shumate. He has a website too, and a facebook fansite thing. I am totally hysterical here. This is so awesome! I love it so much. How can I not spend my money on a hoodie here?!

rights to the pic belongs to the artist of course!

SO AWESOME RIGHT

jeans and happiness and soup

Today has been a most effective and good day. It started with me waking up after a million years of sleep, feeling funny and kind of thick they way you do after too much sleep. After waking I made myself some breakfast - chilli sandwiches - and painted. My latest painting is kinda coming along, looking less bad and strange and more like I have a good feeling of what I want it to look like.

Then I went to the gym with Hannah, which felt good, and then I went to Penneys and bought a pair of jeans, new gym-pants, a belt and a top. (And a hoodie but I'll return it.) I decided the days of feeling big and heavy and draping myself in ill-fitting big clothes to hide all the new kilos are over. Less comfortable, more nice looking. Less sugar, carbs and fat, more vegetables. With this in mind I thought of some food I would like to eat during the week and asked Joe to drive me to Tesco in Wilton which he did without complaining. So now I have three days of food at home and no reason to come home and find nothing to eat but pasta. It's a good thing.

For dinner I'm making a pretty simple cauliflower soup, just because I wanted to use up the cauliflower I had over from the curry I made yesterday. I think I'll post the recipe in my food blog if it's good. With pictures!

No other news from the week, or weekend, exept for my mom having the swine flu. She's not worried and I'm trying not to be either.

And also Spotify wont work since a couple of hours which makes me sad.

But apart from that I's been a good day and a good weekend and a good week and I feel happy.

Listening to: Dr John aka the Night Tripper - I Walk On Guilded Splinters, from the album Gris-Gris, 1968.

more wants

Sometimes you just kinda need a designer home.

No girly night, just haircolouring and bleaching. My hair looks less bleached than it usually does.

I got a great idea for my painting for Ida. Might paint it tomorrow.

Listening to: Loudon Wainwright III on Spotify. He is wonderful!

holy crap

This is so extremely scary. It's going to give me nightmares. Insects and zombies. Both really scary. Thanks Cracked.com.

In other news I painted a painting for Sandra M today. I finish abstracts way quicker than non-abstracts. Also I loose track of time and all of a sudden it's really late. So no more writing now.

Listening to: Philemon Arthur and the Dung - Den Sista Veckan

bag art

bag!

Sara, do you recognize your old bag?

the wall

So here's a link to the album with my kitchen wall spring decorations. Enjoy!

the wall

Listening to: Scary sounds from Bioshock.

art

                                       Like... If the sun was really not a morning person. Maybe.

                                                           

              So yeah this one is really hard to photograph since it's in silver and stuff.

Listening to: Danish boys muttering about CS.

ooh, shiny

Hehe. Hehe. 

Twilight: Something for the emos, something for the furries. 

Sorry, couldn't help myself.

Painted a lot today. Feels good. Bad when I forget important stuff like bathroom cleaning and the world but it's a very special feeling, painting. Not like writing, where every word means so much. A picture means something to me. Words do to but you know the difference. I like writing. I have to write, I write way more than I paint, my soul is black and white, words, words. 

Painting feels like laughing with my hands, with colours. (Vermilion like fire!)

Oh please. Writing about writing. That's so... Meta. Metawriting. I take it all back. (Haha, writing about painting is just as bad. How can anyone possibly describe a picture in words?)

Listening to: Regina Spektor - Us

skogstokig

Goodbye Sandra. I'll miss you so much, but I'll see you soon. 

Everytime I feel sad I'm reminded of the rest of my sadness. Everytime someone leaves I'm reminded of all the others who left. Everyone I miss. I miss everyone. 

Today when I looked into the mirror I saw myself. My own face, as it used to look. Low carb diet it is then. (And hey, bacon salad. Yeah.)

Bought oil pastel crayons today. Funsies!

But yeah. Damn. Everyone I know goes away, in the end.

Listening to: Nirvana - Heart shaped box (still all my music on shuffle though.)