Being

Plot

Character

Setting

Along the edge of the abruptly-ending hill he walked, venturing for home after another unsuccessful search. The trees of the island still had no fruit to give, yet they kept living, meandering upward, away from the ground. His fading eyes followed his feet back to his empty home in his empty city, full of empty clothes and empty glasses, with empty little exoskeletons in the corners of empty windowsills.

A king of stone, dirt, pointless trees is hardly a king at all, yet King he was called when life ruled the island.

His wish was granted, along with his curse. He wished to rule, and the kingdom was his, after being stripped of man and beast and near all life. He wished to be above the world, and his empty kingdom was made highest of kingdoms, never to touch water: ocean, cloud, river or puddle. He wished for immortality, and he will live forever as the King of Solitude, never again to feel warmth or hear a voice. Becoming this king meant that no other were to verify his existence. Immortality did not hardly mean living forever, immortality meant hardly living forever.

The king will never know about the man and beast following close behind his kingdom, yearning as well to exist.

The wish-granting Trickster had recently had his others tricked away, too. The dumb turtle was not company, but a vessel for rants and jokes and venting.
The King of Solitude, surrounded with nothing.

The Trickster on the turtle, following.

Vincent van Gogh

(Pronunciation)

He was a man born on the thirtieth of March, in the year of eighteen fifty~three.
He was quiet for reasons that would lead him to remark, "my youth was gloomy and cold and sterile."

He was taught to draw at the age of thirteen, and he quite liked it.

As his appearance may have sometimes shown,

van Gogh was very emotional and lacked self~confidence.

In 1866, he went to Paris. People weren't fond of his art.

He was dead by the twenty~ninth of July, in the year of eighteen ninety.

He is seen by many of us today "not only as the world's greatest artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived."

"Sometimes winning is no fun at all."

~"Vincent and the Doctor"

I chose Vincent over any other person on your lists of artists because his drawings and paintings and anything gave evidence that his internal surroundings were far more beautiful than his external surroundings. His mind reacted wildly to insecurity and tragedy and love, and he showed what he saw. It wasn't until it was widely understood what he meant that his art was renown and revered, just as a crowd of drunks may be silent to a clever joke until it is explained by a clever person.

Three paintings that appealed to me for different reasons:

"Wheat Field with Crows"

"Wheat Fields at Auvers Under Clouded Sky"

"Old Man in Sorrow (On the Threshold of Eternity)"

Because.

My posts are typically posted at night or early morning, because the sun is down, which means I'm alone, which means my right brain is most active.

This is when I'm most comfortable with being productive and thinky and it's when I'd prefer to not be around people, or it's when I crave good people the most.

I need a scanner.

Colorblind Contour Self~Portrait

I can't say that this will ever be finished. If I were to be done with it, it would be nearly completely black, but for the sake of getting a grade, call it finished.

I did my blind contour, and immediately added onto it, so it's hard o tell which parts were blind and which weren't. I like it better that way.

I just noticed that "I have to stop forgetting" is on there twice, but it's doubly true.

This is a picture of me with words and my favorite coat.

Filling up Empty Bowls

We're filling these bowls with food and the uniqueness of their makers, and it's shown in the bowls' construction and appearance.

I love double entendres and playing with words. Linguistics are fun.

So here's my thing!

Two halves of a face, inverse in chromatic symmetry.

But look again!

The different faces share a mind. This is called a person.
Doing what comes naturally has led to this bowl. I like not having guidelines, it's like I already know what to do.
This may be why certain projects in our class that I've done don't feel like art to me. I may feel good or bad about something somebody wanted me to do, but it's not art to me. I could never be paid to create something, I'd just do it or I wouldn't.
Hm. I wish I could explain better without saying "I don't feel like it," because that's a commonly used and easily misunderstood declaration.

I could just be looking at things the wrong way.

About the Empty Bowls Community Service Project, and about any community service like it:
Helping one other than oneself for no personal gain is... necessary. Those who don't understand this are, in my eyes, children. Or not adult humans, at least. Other animals give selflessly, but not always to the less fortunate. I'm actually not sure there is such a thing a "fortune" in the non~human universe.
Anyway. Hunger in America.
Very common. I see it a lot, but not to its extremes. It may be because of my ignorance, but I would think that the United States has more of a difficulty helping the obese than it does the hungry.
I... don't have much more to say. I'm far too uneducated on the matter. Know that I have a compulsion to change that.

Lantern.. or IS it?!

Well, here it is~~ my paper lantern as of January 22nd.
(Pardon my lack of a hyphen key)

Not the most tedious project I've done, but it's definitely the most painful. Physically painful, that is. I must have been holding the blade wrong, but I've developed a few blisters. Meanwhile, I see other people punching holes in the paper as if he or she was a graceful machine.

"Tedious" art for me usually isn't work. I receive hours of enjoyment, running smooth, heavy black ink across notebook paper, or across a surface where ink is not known to belong (e.g. a small patch of wall in my bedroom). Working on the same paper for hours becomes difficult when the surface area is dwindling at a linear rate, which, I assume, is why I'm not used to.

Planning also makes me not want to do things. On a somewhat related note, when I want to do something, it is not usually planned. When I feel like drawing, it usually requires solitude, and I spend as much time as I feel appropriate to empty the pen's ink supply onto the paper from my notebook or hand or what have you. Having a project already in mind makes my brain think that the end result will be different than expected, gradually dissuading me from continuing work. I eventually pull through, but it takes much longer.
If I think "I have to," I don't want to. For some reason, if I know "no one else has done this" or "..." I just... naturally... do things?

I admire writers and their many talents of writing and creativity, always finding the right words for the things from their brain.

What I plan to add to the lantern: two humans sitting together , sharing a blanket over their shoulders; gifts boxes and little toys roaming around; yeah.

Here's what it may look like in the future, at a certain angle:

Post time.

Expect to see more posts this time.
Or don't expect it, and you'll be delightfully surprised. Yeah. Do that.

I'm back in creative arts partly because I'm curious to see what changes were made to the class since last year, other partly because I'm unsatisfied wit how little effort I put into... all of last year. Consider this a re-do.