Inventing Trees: October 2011

Monday, October 31, 2011

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Head Games

October 27, 2011

October 28, 2011

October 29, 2011

October 30, 2011

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Heavy Anima

October 26, 2011

October 25, 2011

October 24, 2011

October 23, 2011

Sunday, October 23, 2011

For the birds (and perhaps some fish, too)

Button Bird

Kiwi Bird

BirdMadWoman

Roller Bird

October 19, 2011

October 20, 2011

October 21, 2011

October 22, 2011

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

The things one might find in a garden

October 15, 2011

October 16, 2011

October 17, 2011

October 18, 2011

Monday, October 17, 2011

Sometimes I make drawings that seep into my dreams. Sometimes these become nightmares. This is what happened from the drawings that I made on October 8 and 9.

In particular, the tutu wearing cyclops clobbered my psyche. I think the dream dealt with the processes of making and unmaking. Verbalizing it, the dream and the feelings doesn't do it. It sounds silly when I say it out loud. And the story/dream/nightmare I had seems just oddly surreal when I read over it. This is true of all dreams maybe. I did wake up crying from the dreams on these nights.

Since the drawings haunted me so, I pulled them out into the round. The cyclops wearing a tutu seems much less harmful and imposing when he is a little doll. He seems sad and a little pathetic. I felt sorry for him so I made him friends. He doesn't wade into my dreams currently. I will continue to populate his world and perhaps listen to the stories that they whisper.

My husband called me Lilith this morning when I showed him my new creatures. And as he said it he smiled and pulled me close, smelling my hair. He is definitely (thankfully) no "Adam."

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Meditations on dead creatures and love trinkets

October 14, 2011

My attentions have been pulled to creating puppets of late. I have been drawing them constructing them. My daughter who often sits with me as I draw gives me feedback on the creatures. I value her insight very much.

October 13, 2011

One of the puppets was what I called a bird. She said she could not see the bird in the head. "It looks like a frog or an alien, Mom." That is okay with me.

October 12, 2011

She watches me, asking questions on how to create certain forms. Then she grabs her own paper and we draw together. If I finish a drawing she likes, I know it is a good one. She asks for certain ones. I tell her they all will be hers one day most likely.

October 11, 2011

We have four cats who are all excellent hunters. We also have a large black dog. They all seem to love us very much. They offer us their kills. The dog leaves them until she is asked to take it outside. As if to ask for a drawing, one of the cats leaves a dead bird posed beautifully on the drafting table. They all need new belled collars.

October 10, 2011

Monday, October 10, 2011

I am merely your puppet...

October 8, 2011

I move slowly as I know that I am late for school. As I arrive at the office to check in I find out how late I actually am. Classes began at 7:30 and I arrive like a dive at 9:15. I probably should have brushed my hair and teeth. I stink from last night’s wine.

My husband is a Jazz club singer…a front man for the big bands that are so popular in the ‘30’s. His pork pie hat sits on his head as if to announce the attitude. I lie in bed with him and he whispers in my ear. The sounds he whispers I know are English but I hear them as fax machine bit speak. His hands wander down my body and his feet wander up my legs. Out from his soles emerge four tentacle penises. They wander around my body, searching out and finding resting hiding places.

I am late for the second class. I move through it with minimal redness rising to my checks. I have art class next…this is good: a chance to rest and gather my bearings. As I cross the sky bridge to the art studio I notice that I have not done my math homework. I could not do it. I could face the trouble that will result in not having done the mindless worksheets. I won’t enjoy the studio if I do that though. So I skip art in order to go do my math homework.

I have locked myself out of my dorm. I knock and to my relief my dorm mate is inside. He is having a party with some wolf-human hybrids. They all are wearing Zoot Suits and watch chains. They smoke cigarettes. They leer at me and all break into an a cappella version of “Mack the Knife.” I will never get my homework done.

I decide at this point that I should drop out of school and become a blow job diva. I will make millions giving wolf-human hybrids head. They’ll sing and I’ll blow.

Life moves on like this for decades. I do make millions and buy a large house on the edge of the Hudson River. My vista is amazing.

I am old and the lawn needs mowing. It is sunset and the sky above the river is blood red. I am alone. All the wolf-human hybrids have died. Their children have gone feral and are living in Nevada. They specialize in quick math solutions. Exactly what this is, I have no idea. Because I never did my homework they laugh at me whenever I ask. Blow jobs are not currency in their world. So I am alone. As I turn the riding mower on and pull onto the grass, I sob angrily to myself, wishing.