WE ARE ART. WE ARE ALL ARTISTS.

We express ourselves in different ways. One’s wild garden tending is another’s storytelling of memories, across the bridge someone walks along the river in deep introspection, another dreams as she looks at the sky, he hopes as he sprints down the road, they smile at passersby…this is art…the living choices we paint our lives with…the colors spilling over onto another’s path…some mixes go muddy…others create spectral arcs that seemingly touch the sky…if you think you can’t create art…you’re not looking deeply enough…we are all artists…each one of us the embodiment of art itself…🌠

My character, Hank Olin, began as a drawing many years ago. He was then slid into a plastic sleeve and clipped into a binder to join other characters who’d grown silent between black vinyl covers. One day he escaped to become an acrylic painting. His accomplice told him metallic paint would wake his spacesuit up too so he could fly. Hank Olin was happy – he no longer had to live in the binder. He was free.

Being the benevolent ele-space-ien he was, he asked for the immediate release of all those trapped between the heavy covers of that wicked black vinyl binder.

His request was soon granted by an accomplice on the outside, who looked at the sky that very day, appreciating their singular freedom to gaze upon such beauty in a world of madness. Hank Olin was lifted from his two-dimensional prison. Today Hank is free to stargaze, to whisper musings in the ear of anyone nearby, he’s dreamed below the afternoon sky and sparkled, he travels to regions real and imagined, he lives his best life while watching his friends grow into the free characters they were meant to be.

A Harvest Festival

Since the annual UFO Fair this past June, I’ve turned myself into a mad monster merchant selling all measure of cryptid ilk. Yup, I designed prints, magnets, stickers, cards with mugs and totes waiting beneath Mothman’s wings. As a participating vendor at the Alien Fair, I’d passed up several opportunities to sell original artwork which I’d been using expressly as background decor (I’ve always had a difficult time parting with my original art). For this harvest festival, I turned some of my original paintings into 11 x 14 prints. Well, weeks of spending money to make money finally arrived on October 16 and it did not disappoint.

My monetary goal at these events has been, at the very least, to make the vendor fee back. I’ve been pleasantly surprised to have leapt a few monsterish bounds beyond my goal each time. More importantly, I’ve overcome my trepidation of being on the other side of the vendor experience. I remember well the feeling of ‘shame’ when passing by merchants, some alone beneath their canopies, all those years ago at the flea markets and fairs when I wasn’t interested in shopping their wares.

No matter how many calendars or daily planners we mark off, we never cease learning about ourselves. I never imagined that after all those visits to outdoor flea markets, festivals and fairs with my husband and children, that I’d become a seasonal vendor who can handle getting sheepishly or brazenly passed by when my creative work isn’t appreciated or wanted. Though I’ll never understand why some people refuse to find a soft spot for critters with massive fangs, killer claws and bloodlust in their veins;), I’ll continue merrily along my quest of meeting festival folks and chatting up creatures or the weather or the strange light fair-goers might have seen that disappeared into an inky night sky.

When the world gets cold, our experiences and memories are often the things that warm us with their Bigfoot feet and Yeti breath.

I hope you are all doing well.

xo
am

P.S. I must thank my husband, Keith, who sacrifices his only day off during the week for these events. He is also kind (and wise enough) to buy his insane wife morning ‘pre-vending’ bloody marys:)

New Free Verse Published!

So very honored to be included in, Better Than Starbucks! “Mary, I Am Learning,” is an homage to Mary Oliver—her poetic voice
peels away distractions created by an industrial world and reminds us to cherish nature.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

soft island

needless to say – the gorgeous face here is my darling mother at 18 –

this piece is one of those experimental canvases – like picking up a pencil and doodling – unsure of the journey – but comforting all the same 🌹

National Poetry Month

thanks to my dear friend and fellow writer DS Levy for the tee-shirt gift, and thanks to the handsome model, my dear little teenage son

a link for you if so inclined to throw coins into a writer’s cup

why I write

do not harm him

my crayon box

hmm, this might be sixth grade-don’t miss the snap tie and blue knee socks
awhile back I wrote about my childhood crayon thievery – if you’d like to read just tap the magic red here 😊

I am vain

This piece inspired by my face, currently a disaster of stress rash. Apparently, holding back, in an attempt to be monstrously strong, isn’t good for you. I can now use my face like a 70’s mood ring. Never believed I was vain, but lately I’m hiding in the shadows along with my creatures.

a long time in the making

After experiencing several monster-sized issues, my eBook is now available. Truth be told, post-problems it was ready in late January, but at the time, I had not the heart to promote it. So without further ado – some new illustrations and a new poem too – love of the monster – is yours for the downloading (oh and a tiny $2.99)

thank you