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Tonight, I don't feel like such a reprehensible slime-bag. I worked hard today. I ran my nine miles in the morning, painted for a long while, and then got dinner with Tom at the Gypsy Den. He was going to play Open Mic might just for fun, and because I'm such a compassionate and supportive girlfriend, I decided to go cheer him on. I'll let you in on a little secret. I hate Open Mic nights at the Gypsy Den. Why? Because I worked there for three years and Open Mic night means a night of busting your ass, schlepping coffee, and hand-delivering overpriced soy cha
i lattes to broke-ass hipster musicians who truly believe that hitting on the waitress is a good substitution for tipping. Sometimes, if they are feeling generous, they'll throw in a CD that no doubt includes a picture of them inside the case, donning skinny jeans and a handlebar mustache. Some weeks working at the Den, I would tally half a dozen CD's from this cadre of struggling artists that live in "Downtown Orange County". I couldn't tell you if they were any good, since I don't think I ever listened to one, but when they asked, I would always say that I liked the second song on the CD. You would think that someone who was in several bands that have struggled very much over the last few years would be more sympathetic to the plight of the under-appreciated independent artist. Ah, ah, don't be so quick to call me a heartless hypocrite, for there is one major difference between them and me. I am an excellent tipper.
Unfortunately, Aaron, the dude who runs open mic on Monday nights is blossoming into a full bloom douche-bag. He decided that instead of letting everyone who showed up to play get on the playlist, he would rather limit the number so he would have time to hold the audience hostage for a smattering of his long winded acoustic numbers throughout the night. Tom didn't make it on the list. So, after dinner, we bailed. Many Thanks, Aaron.
So, now I'd like to post painting number 20 and painting 21.
Painting 20 is a little embarrassing, but I still like it. It is a portrait of my dog, Bonsai. I only love this painting because I love my dog, even if he is the strangest creature on four legs I've ever encountered. Lately, he's been acting very unlike a dog and I'm starting to think that it's all my fault. The other night Tom and I were eating pizza and watching a movie when Bonsai jumped up on the bed, looked right at the slice I was bringing to my mouth and said in a perfectly human voice "I want." This is something I have been working on with him since he was a pup. We always make him ask for things using words. I don't really know why we wanted to teach him to speak, since he's a dog and he lacks the necessities for vocalization such as a lips and a short tongue, but what can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he talks all the time, and it's always "I want" or "Ham". Tom says the next step is teaching him sentences. I'll definitely keep everyone posted on that.
And here is painting 21:
This painting is a little more difficult to talk about because obviously, it is dealing with sexuality and issues that are intensely private and sensitive to me not only as an artist, but also as a woman. I've avoided painting about issues surrounding this subject for just about my whole life, but after deciding that I should push myself to the extremes of uncomfortability.
It is somewhat inspired by Edward Hopper, who often painted the figure in scenes that exuded isolation, loneliness, and sadness. He has always been a favorite artist of mine not for the style that he painted in, but for his emotive way of painting these figures. When looking at so many of his paintings, I get a feeling of complete desperation. When I first decided the endeavour to paint about my sexuality, I thought of Egon Schiele as an influence. Although I love his work, I mostly associate it with depravity...and do believe that certain levels of depravity exist in everyone. But, because Hopper's work is both intimate and desolate, I used his paintings for inspiration. Usually, I don't look use other artists as a springboard for my own work, but in this case, I felt that I needed a push in the right direction in order to complete this work. Painting this gave me feelings of anger, frustration, sadness, regret, humiliation, and eventually, healing. It has been a long time since I have allowed myself to become so emotionally involved in my work. Holy Mackerel, it takes a lot out of you.
i lattes to broke-ass hipster musicians who truly believe that hitting on the waitress is a good substitution for tipping. Sometimes, if they are feeling generous, they'll throw in a CD that no doubt includes a picture of them inside the case, donning skinny jeans and a handlebar mustache. Some weeks working at the Den, I would tally half a dozen CD's from this cadre of struggling artists that live in "Downtown Orange County". I couldn't tell you if they were any good, since I don't think I ever listened to one, but when they asked, I would always say that I liked the second song on the CD. You would think that someone who was in several bands that have struggled very much over the last few years would be more sympathetic to the plight of the under-appreciated independent artist. Ah, ah, don't be so quick to call me a heartless hypocrite, for there is one major difference between them and me. I am an excellent tipper.
Unfortunately, Aaron, the dude who runs open mic on Monday nights is blossoming into a full bloom douche-bag. He decided that instead of letting everyone who showed up to play get on the playlist, he would rather limit the number so he would have time to hold the audience hostage for a smattering of his long winded acoustic numbers throughout the night. Tom didn't make it on the list. So, after dinner, we bailed. Many Thanks, Aaron.
So, now I'd like to post painting number 20 and painting 21.
Painting 20 is a little embarrassing, but I still like it. It is a portrait of my dog, Bonsai. I only love this painting because I love my dog, even if he is the strangest creature on four legs I've ever encountered. Lately, he's been acting very unlike a dog and I'm starting to think that it's all my fault. The other night Tom and I were eating pizza and watching a movie when Bonsai jumped up on the bed, looked right at the slice I was bringing to my mouth and said in a perfectly human voice "I want." This is something I have been working on with him since he was a pup. We always make him ask for things using words. I don't really know why we wanted to teach him to speak, since he's a dog and he lacks the necessities for vocalization such as a lips and a short tongue, but what can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he talks all the time, and it's always "I want" or "Ham". Tom says the next step is teaching him sentences. I'll definitely keep everyone posted on that.
And here is painting 21:
This painting is a little more difficult to talk about because obviously, it is dealing with sexuality and issues that are intensely private and sensitive to me not only as an artist, but also as a woman. I've avoided painting about issues surrounding this subject for just about my whole life, but after deciding that I should push myself to the extremes of uncomfortability.
It is somewhat inspired by Edward Hopper, who often painted the figure in scenes that exuded isolation, loneliness, and sadness. He has always been a favorite artist of mine not for the style that he painted in, but for his emotive way of painting these figures. When looking at so many of his paintings, I get a feeling of complete desperation. When I first decided the endeavour to paint about my sexuality, I thought of Egon Schiele as an influence. Although I love his work, I mostly associate it with depravity...and do believe that certain levels of depravity exist in everyone. But, because Hopper's work is both intimate and desolate, I used his paintings for inspiration. Usually, I don't look use other artists as a springboard for my own work, but in this case, I felt that I needed a push in the right direction in order to complete this work. Painting this gave me feelings of anger, frustration, sadness, regret, humiliation, and eventually, healing. It has been a long time since I have allowed myself to become so emotionally involved in my work. Holy Mackerel, it takes a lot out of you.
