May

Coffee flashbacks

I woke up late the other morning. It was one of the first days off this summer from all three jobs in a long time.

My husband had long since gone to work and left the morning’s coffee grounds in the basket residing in the coffee-maker. A normal person would replace the grounds, but my stomach and nerves no longer tolerate strong java. I filled the coffee-maker’s reservoir with fresh water and moved the steam spigot over the grounds hoping the coffee would be a bit more diluted.

As I was moving the spigot, a case of deja vú washed over me. This simple act felt happily familiar.

Images of my childhood, waking up on Christmas morning to a new Monkees record with their picture pressed in clear vinyl made a smile appear on my face. It made me think of the first 45 that was officially mine aptly titled “The Curly Shuffle”, written in honor of The Three Stooges. It reminded me of getting excited on birthdays because new music was usually waiting for me between the grooves of the compressed lines concealed in a 12 inch by 12 inch cardboard sleeve. It reminded me of when the best songs were gifts.

It reminded me of when things were meant to be experienced. It reminded me of when music was like an art exhibit, you had to stay in the same room to be immersed in it. It reminded me of being able to take it easy, lie on the floor and get lost in the rythm and crescendos of the music. Now that music has become immensely portable, we seem to take it for granted.

Once the flashbacks stopped, I began to get ready for the day, thankful for that little “movement” making me remember a different time when I didn’t need to be powered by caffeine.

When have you done a movement or motion that reminded you of something completely different than what you were doing?

8 years ago Short URL 1 Comment

Art/Life/love/memories/nostalgia/Quirky/Uncategorized

coffee/memories/Monkees/nostalgia/quirky/QuirkyGirl/record/records

May

Artless Mars

Have you ever watched CNN Student News? Quite frankly, sometimes it’s a little more eye opening than regular news with the way information is presented.

The other morning in class we were discovering certain things about space and how we are making every effort to find a way to live on Mars. I’m over-simplifying this but you get the point.

In a former article, I admitted to you that space or at least the idea of “space” used to scare me. I’ve since gotten over that fear and replaced it with a new and related fear…no artists on Mars.

A long time ago in a childhood far away there was an episode of the Simpsons where Lisa was picked to go into space and she could only choose one family member to come with her. As she’s trying to decide you see a lot of creative people getting on board, one of them being Paul McCartney. Mind you this beloved series is written by people who share a like mindedness with me. (Or at least I like to think so.)

Sure, if you were being rocketed at the speed of light to start a new Mars colony of Homo sapiens, you would want to take the best specimens representing all forms of the human mind.

The other night as I was speaking to my manager who is going to become an Astrophysicist, a horrifying thought crossed my mind. If we inhabitants of planet earth had to be selected to go on the rocket, the obvious first pick is going to be engineers, scientists, astronauts etc. You get where I’m going.

People like me wouldn’t be invited.

My husband however would be safe. He has a vast knowledge of world religions and knowledge of things that would help to preserve the history of humankind. He also has survival skills.

Me, I might be able to draw you a picture and tell you a funny story or two. That’s about it.

There wouldn’t be a need for Paul McCartney, Steve Martin and other random celebrities. Then I started thinking about what these first non-celebrity inhabitants would do once they were finally established. They all can’t be pragmatic geniuses without a sense of humor. Surely somewhere in there DNA when they decide to procreate, a few children would pop out who are kind of the black sheep of these new space villages.

Can you see this guy in space?

When you actually start thinking about it, creativity is born out of boredom. Surely one of these scientists will make some weird decorative post modern Mars pieces as part of a “Welcome to Mars” space sculpture which sits on the Martian version of Ellis Island. (This is once they start welcoming others who weren’t so lucky the first time they were offering a one way ticket off Earth.). There will be some people born to be funny who can only make jokes relating to the Martian situation they are in. It only makes sense not to take an earthling comedian, they would not know the terrain; literally and metaphorically.

There are so many thoughts running through my head about this now that we are inching closer to the possibility of this happening. I’m just glad I’m not Lisa Simpson.

8 years ago Short URL 7 Comments

Art/Fun/Funny/Humor/Life/Marriage/Quirky/students/teaching/Uncategorized

Sep

This teacher publishes comic books successfully.

The title of this blog is a six word sentence I have chosen for my future. These are the six words, I will bring to fruition. Before making the predicate part of the sentence a reality, first I must become the subject.

Today’s daily post challenge on WordPress is to come up with a six word sentence describing your future.

In recent months I’ve been praying and meditating on what to do about a major life decision. Life has been a bit difficult financially here of late therefore causing me to re-plan my original life blueprint. A lot of people my age are having to reroute their lives as if they are a satellite navigation system in their car.

As you know I majored with a degree in Fine Art. This isn’t exactly the most stable degree, especially in an economy like this one. Having a bit of a dilemma I’ve had conversations with people about my life plan as now it’s not just my life but I share it with my husband.

Curiously my Mother-in-law and I were having a conversation one day when she suddenly said, “Have you thought about teaching…” Honestly years ago I had considered becoming an art teacher but due to unforeseen reasons that plan didn’t work.

I had my heart intent on changing the world one classroom at a time through art, by helping children understand the importance of art. I wanted to teach them it was o.k. to think differently and be in the likes of tortured but wonderful and humorous companions such as Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo. I wanted to teach them to see the world through a kaleidoscope of colors, not just black and white. I wanted to teach them to think and see differently and learn people can speak many languages by communicating through the visual arts.

My Mother-in-law finished her sentence, “…English?” This was the first time anyone had suggested teaching something other than art to me. This was the seed planted in my brain that slowly started sprouting this summer. Suddenly I realized my gift of being able to communicate with children and awkward junior high kids may not be lost. My parents have always seen my gift with children and knew I had something special.

Then the second sign came a few weeks ago. My husband received a call from a best friend. He didn’t tell her everything that had been going through my mind, the questioning, the self doubt about the possibility of teaching something which in essence is my second language; art always has and always will be my first language. She told him over the phone, “She would make a great middle school teacher.”

Then came the third sign, this is the one that has been a constant. My friend of 12 years has said to me numerous times since 2007 I need to bite the bullet and become a teacher. She witnessed my gift first hand when we worked together and I basically babysat children in the fitting room of the store we worked. She even enrolled my help the weekend of her wedding sitting me next to the most talkative children of her family knowing full well we’d be in full on conversation mode before the adults even broke into the festivities. Last week something private happened (which I won’t discuss here) and I texted her about it. My phone buzzed, I quickly looked at it to see my third sign in text form. Her response was, “Become a teacher.”

I couldn’t believe it, three signs. People have always said things come in threes.

I finally sat down and told my parents of my plans a few weeks ago of how I might be going back to school next January. The more I talked about it the more excited I became. As I sat there, I started hatching lesson plans over the belief I would share a common interest with some of my students; comic books.

Comic books were my gateway into becoming a better reader, writer and… artist. What better way to combine three of my loves? Then it came to me to teach my future imaginary students how to write a comic book. Then the plan became more elaborate, why not combine this project with the art students who will help illustrate it for them if they can not illustrate it themselves? Then this lesson plan also integrates communication skills, because as we all know, what the writer and the artist sees are not always the same thing.

The excitement over exploring this lesson plan made me think of another plan, why not publish these books? We could combine all of the books the students made, and then publish them so all students and anyone who wanted to purchase them could. All of the proceeds would then go back into the school’s pockets.

This morning, as I rode in my car, I did my usual prayers. I prayed for my family, my friends, my co-workers. Then I asked God for another sign. This might seem demanding to ask considering I had already received three signs. Basically I said, “Look, I know you’ve sent these signs, but I want to make sure I heard you right. Please if you are sending me a sign, make it to where I know and please help me to listen to you.” I like to be certain of things now in my older age. I’ve grown tired of not looking before I leap, there is too much at stake now to leap without eyes.

I think my response sign came a few hours later at work this morning. My friend was helping a mother and her young daughter at the counter. I was on the other side and happened to see the young girl whose head didn’t even reach the counter. Strangely she reminded me of me in first grade. She had been dressed by her mother but so much of her personality was bursting at the seams it was hard to keep herself in the assumed pristine condition she was dressed in when she left the house. Seeing this bubbly young girl, I made my way over to her and said, “High five!” She was in the middle of eating a morsel of a pear and quickly shoved the pear in her mouth as she exuberantly gave me a high five with the pear residue still on her tiny fingers. She quickly said, “Hang on, I have to wipe the pear off my hands!” Without skipping a beat, with one swipe on her shirt she then quickly slapped my hand as an affirmation of excellence in being true to who you are.

I had to make my way to the back to put something away and then made my way to the computer to print off tags. I heard some commotion on the other side of the restaurant when suddenly I found the little girl standing on the other side of the counter looking at me with her innocent eyes. She said, “Hey you’re really pretty today.” Taken back by her kind words and her uninhibited way of delivering them, I quickly made sure to compliment her on her shoes and outfit, but before I could even get the words out about her outfit she held up her entire leg to show me a different angle of her shoes and exclaimed, ” My Nana got them for me!”

I then asked her, “So have you started school yet?” Her reply, “Weeeelllll YEAH!” As she tried to unfurl her story as fast as she could, her mom told her they were limited on time and would come back. The little girl and I made plans to talk about her school next time she came in with her mom.

A few seconds after they had left I looked across the room to see my friend behind the other counter where she loudly said, “I think you are going to be canonized as the patron saint of children.”

I think this was the gentle sign reminding me of my gift of gab with children. This was just the conversation needed to persuade me the other three signs were a message for me to become a teacher. I already knew I was going to write, draw and publish comic books, I didn’t realize I would be putting on an extra “hat” in the process, but it’s a wonderful feeling.

How do you see your future? What is something that has been calling you but it has taken you a long time to notice? What was your blue print you had planned and what changed it?

P.s. I googled the patron Saint of children and it’s this guy…

I’ve always thought it would be cool to have his job!

Apr

Anthropological uselessness

Recently my husband and I have been talking about the possibility of going back to school to attain different degrees. Many articles have been popping up on-line as if pointing me in the direction I need to go.

When these articles first started popping up, they were titled something like, “top ten reasons not to go back to school” or “useless degrees”. Among the top of the useless pile was my degree; Bachelor of Fine Art. This was a real blow to the ego.

Here lies the problem. When you find the degree you worked so hard for has no future, you start looking for a second chance to go back to school and hope that the one you go back for also doesn’t become useless.

Unfortunately for me, all the degrees I would be great at, are useless. Are they enriching? Yes these are enriching degrees.

At the university I went to we were supposed to complete a certain amount of hours for general education in addition to the degree we recieved. I guess whoever designed this system, figured as a safety net, in case the future of the United States economy corroded, those of us who already had degrees or those of us who were working towards one, would have a good idea of what would make a great secondary career. This would have been great, however they forgot to plan for people like me. At least I choose to believe someone who went through the great depression had the fore site to plan for something like this for the life of the University’s continuing student body.

I know what you are asking dear readers, ” What degrees would you have possibly gone for?” Well let me first tell you what I did try or consider. I tried for Graphic Design but found this path to be too lonely. This involved sitting in front of a computer for hours on end by yourself not being social. Briefly I considered Animation, but then due to my childhood education of sitting for hours in front of the television and admiring the likes of Looney Toons and Animaniacs, it miffed me the professor contradicted one of the very lessons of diabolical cartoon characters; the lead character can come back after a major dismemberment or catastrophe. One semester I tried out the business end of school. This was not a wise decision for someone completely right brained. Even though I met some interesting characters there my grades did not fair well. It became more of a social observance and interaction with people completely diffent than myself, much like Jane Goodall when she decided to observe other primates.

Because my heart and brain could not separate from the desire to draw and paint and because I realized I love working with people, the logical decision was to go into art education. With this degree there was mild success but the door on this path also closed.

There was no other option left but to go back to square one where I originally started; a degree in Fine Art with an Emphasis in Drawing.

My path continued, getting a useless degree while exploring other fascinating subjects, one of which was Anthropology. The first time around with this class, the teacher was from England and a Prima-anthropologist. She discussed how some Chimpanzees were observed grooming leaves, then they would throw them on the forrest floor for no reason. Honestly, I think the chimps knew what type of intense, neurotic person she was and did it just to driver her crazy. I pictured her story being like a Far-side cartoon where she was behind the bushes with a set of binoculars while the Chimps spoke in their own language talking to each other about how they would make something up just to throw the spying human off.

Honestly, in her class I don’t remember the rest of the semester, I only remember certain risqué behaviors of Binobo monkeys and her talking about her and her family’s first experience of eating corn on the cob here in the states which she felt was bizarre and probably ape like.

That semester was a particularly tough one for me personally, so I wound up retaking the class later with a different professor in hopes of a better grade. Not only did I better my grade but it made me more interested in how cultures form, how humans have traveled throughout time to get to where we are, how some cultures started others, how fertile crescents were started and the roots and beginnings of words and where they stemmed from. This class was different, the professor was alive, bubbly, excited and made jokes including the students in on the curriculum. This was a plus for me, this engaged the right side of my brain and it gave me the opportunity to be the smart alec class clown who helped to progress the other students’ learning of the curriculum with the questions I asked along with the other smarty pants in the front row.

That semester I was on fire for classes shaped in this style of curricula. My modern Art History class was similar, we were allowed to ask questions and shout out ideas on what the artists were trying to prove, make or antagonize for and from the viewer. This teacher was from Scotland and was also a sculptor in addition to knowing artists and their modus operandi. In other words, she was cool. Often times in this class my friends would hide behind me as they weren’t awake yet and weren’t confident enough at that hour in the morning without coffee to say what was on their mind. The teacher was onto them. She would call them out and suss out the answer for the rest of the class to hear. No idea was too stupid to contemplate or to think about when it came to art, everything was fair game. Art was open to interpretation for her.

If I had to go back or could go back, these are two areas I would love to strengthen, get better at and educate others about. However, given our current economy, becoming a Prima-anthropologist isn’t something to get myself out of debt, and my efforts probably would not help advance the human race as we know it. In fact, baboons don’t even like me, one mooned me at the St. Louis zoo, scratched his bald behind in my face, turned around, bared his teeth and walked off. This degree is definitely off the list, especially since I stared down the wrong end of a baboon’s derriere.

I still love working with people, however another article online specified Anthropology was next in line after Fine Art as far as useless degrees go. The next one is Art History, my only beef with this is why study what other people have done? Some may argue in order to keep history from repeating itself you have to know what has come before you. However, I have seen it time and time again, when people continually observe work done by others, rather than just drawing inspiration, they are bound to accidentally clone the style they observe and love. Why spend your life studying others when you can concentrate on being you, being original and getting out there changing the world with your art? Oh yeah, the whole reason I started exploring this in the first place, if you teach it, you will make money. To be an artist and be successful you have to die a usually tragic and horrible death or be a womanizer and dead. I’ve got the first part down of being an artist, but I’m not dead and certainly not a womanizer.

Maybe being an Art History professor is the way to go? Then again maybe I should fulfill my destiny of becoming a massage therapist. Who knows, however I think all of this was a fancy way of being able to tell you all I was once mooned by a baboon scratching its posterior.

What would you change your degree to if you could? What degree did you always want to have? Have you thought about going back?

Jan

The same thing we do every night…

Here the last few days I’ve been contemplating life. What is important, what needs to be purged and what I need to let go of that I’ve been holding onto for a dumb reason. Now is the time to purge the ten dollar clearance jeans with the Andy Warhol Pop Art version of Twiggy’s face down one side, now is the time to purge my closet of the Joker converse sneakers I wore in fifth grade, now is the time to let go of art I’ve made for others that I have no personal use for.

My life has changed forever, my husband has finally found a job close to where I live and has come to live with me. As you can imagine I am filled with insurmountable joy. It is because of the joy he brings in my life that I truly want to concentrate on what is important…us.

Recently a news show did a segment with four roommates they asked to go for a while without their phones, without their computers; they were to live a life without technology from this century. They could barely stand it, they had to check themselves in on Facebook to let everyone know where they were before they turned everything in to the news crew doing the experiment. One girl even complained of having withdrawal and started getting headaches.

Seeing this segment made me think this was a genius idea. I started contemplating taking down my Facebook account. Taking down my account would solve the problem of exes being able to track me down, find me and being able to revel in any of my losses over the years. It would solve the problem of constantly being turned down by a best friend for a request of lunch and once raucous, laughter inducing conversations; only to log to find out they have better things to do like hanging out with other mutual friends and my ex-husband.

Facebook has been the source of great anguish in my life, however, it has also been the source of great joy. Joys like; family and friends announcing a birth, someone getting a promotion, or just someone simply wanting to spread good vibes to those around them. Then I started thinking about the greatest joy Facebook has brought me, the ability to reconnect; to reconnect with long lost friends from grade school and reconnect me with my husband. If it weren’t for Facebook I wouldn’t have been able to spread the joy with family and friends near and far how well the first date went, how good the world suddenly seemed and that life was definitely looking up for yours truly.

Still even with all of this I contemplated again taking down the account to avoid distractions. Then today it hit me, we still need social media…for us.

We needed it to get us together…now we need it to start us as a married couple as entrepreneurs in the comic book world. We need it so we no longer have to be dreamers but can be DO-ers!

As of today starts my plight to get us off the ground, my plight to turn our creative endeavors into our retirement, our kids’ future and our charitable fund to help others like us, or others who in general are in need.

Today my husband and I hatched a plan which we soon plan to unfold not only on this blog, but on Facebook, Twitter and any other social media useful to writers and artists.

So for now dear readers, I will have to keep you in the dark until March about our big plan, but for now I will just say this, thank you for reading and God Bless Mark Zuckerberg.

What was something you contemplated giving up but instead found new use for? What is something that has been a source of pain for you but then later you realized it was something you needed to learn a life lesson?

Oct

Writer’s constipation becomes artistic diarrhea

Writer’s block is crippling. It’s one of those things that strikes when you least expect it. Part of the reason why I might be inflicted with this issue is due to the fact life has been happening at such a fast rate, I’m for once managing to not only keep up with it but enjoy it at the same time. However, that doesn’t help for managing to find time to sit and write when you’re busy making life happen.

I’m also going to blame my writers block on my Jungian personality type that can switch and swing one of two ways, ENFJ and ENTJ. Lately I’ve been working on a rotating art project in which you exchange your piece every week with someone and add to what they’ve made. Needless to say, my brain is in visual or “feeling” mode rather than “thinking” mode which might explain the difficulty in verbally expressing or writing my stories here of late on this blog. We are only a week in with this project but still I can’t switch my brain off from thinking of interesting or funny visuals to draw and paint. When this happens, my brain switches over from having verbal abilities and can’t seem to spit anything out; unfortunately for my art partners the only thing my brain spits out is artistic diarrhea.

Because of the recent brain switch over, I’ve been mulling over visual ideas with my coworkers who are doing this project and I’m fairly certain they are getting tired of my strange excitement over being able to flex the muscles on the other side of my brain for once.

Just to give you an example of what has been going through my mind for ideas, I will in my best way verbally describe to you the images I envisioned.

The first idea I had was to have someone eating a plate of spaghetti with the spaghetti being formed into words saying, “You are what you eat.”

I know what you’re thinking; this idea isn’t so bad. No, this idea wasn’t, it was the idea that came after it.

The second idea I had was to have a pirate with an apple on his hook saying, “You ARRR what you eat!” At this point for those of you out there who are still with me and reading this, you might say, ” This isn’t the worst of ideas and I can see how this idea stemmed from the first one.” I would agree with you whole heartedly. It’s the third idea I came up with that would cause you to question the health of my mental state altogether.

You see this project we are working on has to be about food. All of us working on this rotating art project work in an all natural grocery store. Once our team has worked on all four paintings, then we are going to auction them off to raise money for a family in need at Christmas time. So to represent us, and what we promote in our everyday lives, we have to make the subject matter in some form about food.

The third and worst idea came to me while I was working in the frozen section near the dried fruit. It was the idea of where raisins actually come from. Suddenly I remembered when I was a kid going to visit my aunt and my cousin and remembered this was one of the first instances I helped my aunt change my newborn cousin’s diaper. Bear in mind I didn’t have any brothers or sisters despite the fact I begged my parents for one; so I was kind of clueless about babies in general. When I went to help change the diaper and saw my cousin’s belly I couldn’t help but gasp; there was a raisin where her belly button should be. At the time I was highly puzzled by this and my aunt giggled jokingly calling this shriveled dark spot my cousin’s raisin. Then it was explained to me later on this is just the part of the umbilical cord that hasn’t naturally fallen off yet.

When I remembered this story, it made me laugh, and suddenly I had a funny image of drawing cartoon babies lined up in a nursery, with each one having a real raisin glued to the canvas where their belly button should be. I was thinking of giving them a nursery sign labeled, “Raisin Farm” but then I realized people wouldn’t know the back story. Then the fleeting image passed through my mind of my coworkers questioning my mental sanity and placing a phone call to men holding white jackets with buckles on them, convincing me what they were holding was the latest thing in fashion and ushering me into a professionally driven vehicle with no windows in it to the nearest facility for evaluation.

In the end I wound up settling on the idea of “Mac & Cheese” two best friends in a cartoon polaroid taken on a road trip through Missouri. It wasn’t the best idea, but at least it wouldn’t be an idea that would land me in an asylum with missed days of work and would spare me the scared looks on my coworkers’ faces.

What crazy ideas have you had for a project that you’ve censored yourself on? Did you censor yourself because you were afraid of what people might think or because you knew it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else?

Aug

Indecent

“Me? Indecent? Noooo!”

Bettie Page once said, “I am not indecent, I will not plead guilty to it! You’ll have to charge me with disturbing the peace, too!” This was after she was discovered modeling for fellow photographers in the 50’s while caught unaware by a police officer as she was taking a bathroom break in the bushes. What most of us as artists would consider art, and a study of the human form, was misconstrued by these police and the US government as pornography.

Considering what Ms. Page did for a living in the 50’s, I can understand how in some circles what she did was considered pornography, but the photo sessions she did on the beach and others as well, were merely just a study; a study in black and white of human landscape if you will.

By all means, I am not an exhibitionist, but I am an artist, so coming from the other side of her argument I can understand Ms. Page’s declaration of not being indecent.

Due to my recent status in life, I have had more fire under my rear end to pull my boot straps up and make something of myself. With encouragement and support from my family, boyfriend and friends everyone is not only encouraging me but joining me in the plight to make something of myself with my art, my writing and my life. Even though I love my family, I do not want to be the nerd living in their house until I’m 50. As a starting point in trying to sell my art, I set up a booth at a local flea market.

The very moment I started to set up the booth I felt a little weird. This place is known for it’s antiques, and various other odds and ends. While looking at the other booths, I noticed one featured artwork that looked like a beginner’s attempt at surrealism. The artwork even by my standards was a little off, only because I didn’t understand what they artist was trying to accomplish. However, that is the beauty behind art sometimes, you don’t have to understand it to appreciate it, but for me I like for there to be a point behind it, for it to be fun for the viewer or some form of study to it.

That being said, I was making an attempt to sell some of my art from my college days not only to hopefully make some scratch but also clear some space to make more art. Most of the art featured in my booth are mono prints, human studies, or something I produced for my Senior Art Show for Southwest Missouri State University. The biggest piece is four feet by four feet and features art in Roy Lichtenstein’s style of a woman sitting on her brain. There is a meaning behind this piece, but at first glance, for those who don’t know me and are viewing it for the first time, will look at it and think there is something terribly wrong and warped with the artist behind this piece. Needless to say, when I walked in with this piece I flipped it around so the clerks couldn’t see it and immediately kick me out.

It only seems scary until you know what it’s about.

As I was setting up the booth, I had people wanting me to draw portraits of them and their family, a couple who wouldn’t normally get to experience art in a raw form and appreciated what they saw. I considered that a huge compliment, not because of the attention they were giving me, but because I was exposing them to something they would normally not get to experience, and they saw it truly for what it was and weren’t frightened by any of the images they saw. They were the type of people who would love to have access to something like this, but probably couldn’t afford to otherwise and were getting to see it free just for browsing in a local flea market. That aside, they got to talk to the artist behind the work. How many times can you say you’ve done that in a museum?

Left of the booth…

Center of the booth…

The right side of the booth…

As the hours went on I was bringing in more pieces to sell, quite a few of them being studies of a fellow classmate in her swim suit, one drawing of a nude man sitting on a stool with his back turned toward the viewer so nothing was showing, and some pin-up art I had done.

The first week went on with no contact from the flea market. I figured so far so good. Then one evening when I was at work I checked my E-mail from my phone on lunch break to find; I had three pieces kicked out of the booth. The owners running the flea market felt they weren’t “appropriate” for showing in the booth. It hit me, this could be a very good thing or a slight controversial blip on my radar. It wouldn’t be the first time I did something kind of naughty only to ask forgiveness later.

In high school I used to sometimes draw cartoons for the school paper, they weren’t the best but they were there to help illustrate a point I was making with an article. One time I did a political comic about how there was a bigger punishment for a public display of affection in the hallways than there was for getting into a fight. I said, “Which would you rather see?” with the first frame of a girl hugging a male student and the second frame with the same girl punching the male student. The story got out and there were a handful of students starting to protest the detention scandal (if you want to call it that) around the flagpole outside of our school; so we had to pull the cartoon from the paper.

I took that on the chin, so a few days later after my aggravation settled from having three pieces kicked out of the flea market, I took that on the chin too. I talked about it to my friends at work and one commented saying, “Well you obviously must be doing something right?!”

Like Bettie Page, I do not consider myself indecent, I do everything with a level of taste and humor. My aim is not to offend people, but open their minds to thinking differently about art and the world within which we live. Because I have drawn many people, most of them from different lifestyles and backgrounds, I do not see nudity as something to be ashamed of as long as its tasteful and in the form of art. This doesn’t mean I think its okay to run down the streets naked, but I was more than a little surprised when my pieces were taken down.

I understand the owners of the flea market have a certain clientele, and I should have taken that into consideration when setting up shop there. That was my fault, and I thank them for allowing me to have the pieces up until someone probably complained; the owners took a chance on me and for that I am grateful. Somehow I thought people wouldn’t be offended by a bare bottom, or a heavier set woman’s beautiful back; unfortunately I was wrong, but hopefully I opened some minds in the process.

What have you done in the past that was accidentally misconstrued? What have you naively done that was controversial unbeknownst to you, until someone pointed out the problem with what you were doing?

Diary of a quirky girl

Category Archives: Art