Day 2: Favorite Animal

Day 1: Myself

- Shishigami.

sketchbook stuff

School has kept me from updating this thing, which is a shame because I'm also spending more time doing art-related things than anything else.

I'm supposed to fill up my sketchbook by the end of this semester, so I've been carrying it around with me everywhere. Here are some sketches. ( In reverse order of being drawn... )

(P. iNocchio)
(90 year old me pointing at an alien)

(sketch of drawing class self-portait with side-notes/doodle)
(J. Furn tree)

when i grow up

kinda digging oil pastels.

Contacting Aliens or Gods

just a doodle.

doodle

x, wedding gourds and portraits

This has been my week so far... My friend drops me off at my house on Monday(after a long road trip from CoMo) at 2 am. I collapse in bed and wake up to X (my nephew... video at the end). Every day so far I wake up to X (let him tug on my hair) and work on a project. My brother's wedding is coming up which means that I have to paint wedding gourds for him and finish a portrait of my uncle.

I finished the portrait of my uncle earlier this week. He's getting here this Friday and he asked for it about a year ago. It's on chalk pastel on canvas.

There are still 2.5 wedding gourds left to paint. I've painted ~17 in the last 24 hours. Here's a peek at what they look like.

Now the video I promised:

album cover

I found this while going through a series of photos I took for an art project. I feel like this should be an album cover. Any ideas for what it would say?

doodles and stuff

Re the gustatory scientist reminded that I should keep up with this thing. I was too lazy to scan stuff so... I took pics of some doodles I've done recently with my webcam.

This is a picture of a painting I started about two weeks ago (it's still not finished).

This is my most recent doodle (yesterday, on my way doontoon). It's a cocky man whose bottom half is elegantly cascading.

On the left is a self portrait, on the right is just.... a doodle. It's sort of a tree branch woman with deer antlers.

So that's me updating. Hopefully, if I get new canvases soon, I'll be able to start two portraits before the summer is through. In the meantime, I really should get working on that painting... If you have any doodle ideas, let me know!

after the storm

i imagine a saturday morning.

a day after a storm like this

a bliss that screams freedom

with the cluttered leaves and broken trees consuming our

dirty urban streets

the traffic lights blinking for no one

on and off at increments

what relevance does time hold

to my hopes and carefree breathing?

my heart the only beating

among debris and residue

i imagine a saturday morning.

the kind you'd like to live

the kind where you could give

yourself completely

and sweetly sing songs of surrender

you build a nest under a bridge and call it home

you no longer run with nothing to run from

neon signs rendered useless all around you

and if i found you, on the ground, your body twisted

like an animal

and if i loved you, anyway, what difference would it make?

i imagine a saturday morning.

our own garden of eden, post-apocalypse, post-industrial

postcards plastered as reminders of another life

a world of work shifts, please and thank yous, all behind us

what defined us, then, our diets, our possessions?

no longer ruled by our obsessions,

we live with the clean confidence of infants

our histories washed out by the evening's rain

i imagine you there with me

but would you notice me

or wither away in peace and self-contentment?

monday morning

Chicago skyline wrapped in fog

an image faint in the distance

as the sun, red, beats through the clouds.

Before me, the working class awakens,

trudges to an ordinary Monday,

unaffected by the mystery to the horizon.

Standing tall and silent,

under a grey cloudy,

as beacons of prosperity,

of all the great things money can buy.

But the sun outshines it all

in the red bloody beating,

parting the grey with entitlement.

Nobody lives downtown. I used to look forward to the nights my mom stayed at work until midnight and my dad and I would go pick her up. Cool summer night breeze would brush my skin through the car window. And everything was so quiet. I could almost feel the faint buzz of neon signs. All of downtown was mine and mine alone to take in and witness.

Forgetting

There was a little girl who was strong, smart and independent, who would sleep to moonshine lullabies, feel the day as if it spoke to her (just her) and smiled at the world from a distance. She revelled in the secrets whispered by the wind. She smiled knowingly, too knowingly, and kept to herself.

How can I be that girl again?

Forget your midnight mid-dream breathing, your summer smile, so refreshing. Forget the rhythm that we walked and the language no one else would get.

How can I learn to walk again, see again, be again?

Kill the me I was for you and start again.

like, whatever.

I feel glances and stares like jabs or caresses. Sometimes intrusive, but sometimes gentle and reassuring. Travelling through a dense sea of eyes, moving to the beat of schedules and appointments, I am surrounded and vulnerable. I am suddenly aware of my flesh. I am an animal. I'm not my books, talents or ideas. I am my flesh, my baby face, my doubts. I am not strong enough. I will be devoured. So I run; pushing my essence to the top of a nearby building. I am floating above everything. I turn up the music, and let my essence move to it, get lost in it, become it. Because my essence can be anything. It molds to the elegant edges of skyscrapers, sinks into the tiny alleys. It is empowered by the human potential, the attention to detail, the creation of systems. It grows and grows until all of Chicago is under its fingertips. Its fingers glide over the skyline in admiration and love.

I'm sitting on the Orange Line train. Doors closing. I catch my reflection on the window pane and remember who I am.

ink.

einstein is a yellow betta

hello einstein.