.up.to.no.good.

two a.m. rolled around and you'd think i would have had enough sense to lay the paint and brushes down. i just couldn't help myself. knowing and feeling the mad dash crunch is all it takes. the late nights haven't seen the last of me. unfortunately i have only a few more last touches to put on my spacetree painting, but i'm stonecold out of motivation for the finishline. it was dragging me down so i decided over the weekend to pick up a new canvas and after some foundational sketching i started a new perspective:rendition on the twilight trees. it's my remixed version. *with the spacetree painting i intended all along to recycle a previous painting. i meant to leave the seagulls and the majority of bluesky, but i continue to struggle. i have the smaller circles in the trees to paint. i'm leaning between an orange red or a lighter green. i also am leaning toward applying a tad more paper to the piece, but i'm uncertain about it all and know i probably won't be showing the spacetree piece in the upcoming clothesline show. i'd rather have it hanging at fitness together with the rest of my growing forest.

twilight will make an unseemly sorching hot or frigidly freezing day feel redemptively magical. at the close, a comforting quiet and coming together of all that the day held in ups and downs. twilight illustrates a time when starlings fly in unison above my city and collect themselves simultaneously on highwires. a small moment of deepening bluesky and some slight breeze, i can breath. i'm not saying i can even come close to painting what i invision twilight to be. my trees aren't really the trees i see on a daily basis, but they warm me, or at least my heart. i still struggle inbetween twilights fantasy and it's alterego, reality. the reality of it all is that i hope above all that something inside of me comes out on the canvas and warms other people's hearts. i know my style is off and cursive in nature, i know my lines are crooked, but they are purpose driven as all of twilight reaches out for darkness and the silence of night.

sometimes i feel like i beg for attention, i struggle with phantomcrimes and hide what i really want and that is recognition. foolish and corrupt as it may seem it is true that i wish to be discovered and that i want my art to find it's way into the minds, homes, and thoughts of little children who want someday to make art. i would love to see my art in beautiful/decay or juxtapoz or my local but now chicago based mule. and inbetween these thoughts i am struck, as if with a fly swatter, that there is a beautiful community of women artists here in my city, my friends, who have lifted my spirits and pushed me further. and i am reminded of how they are my audience, a small part of a larger community, but still. and thankfulness for this "clothesline" community is really all that i need. afterall if i had any more than what i've got i'd have to quit my jobs and begin to live in an art world. a world of many too many 2 a.m. nights of artmaking. alas, it isn't that time yet in my life. if that time came i'd be just as scared, so i'm left in peace about what my responsibilty truly is, it's to share and hopefully gain some perspective with phantomcrimes, here. i'm off to up to no good:)