Extrapyramidal

I attempted many things this week already.

Socializing was a bit of a fail but maybe i will be better for it.
in any case, i wanted to combine -hedrons with swimmerman to give him an edge. but this character already exists.

but thats ok! i got to do some visual / figure drawing to get me thinking some more

too dr seuss-y?

i made a mock up of my own pyramid head out of stir sticks but i love the shape. i want it to be heavier though – so heavy i cannot even bear it.
to be made to fit my body so no one else can fit it.
to be lined with pins and glass.
to hurt me every time i wear it.

it will block my vision, my voice, and my hearing. i will not be able to move or cry.

a punishment for my laziness, for my parapaparazzitic self. these obsessions are getting wildly out of hand.

im still the self destructive 16 year old i always was i am just finding newer, more conceptual ways to validate it. instead of cutting its art.

it is discipline.

Gateways

first up :: i would like to thank all 1 person for contributing to the bummer mix!  i am telepathically giving them an invisible ice cream come.  anyone else who wants to help out please do leave a comment!  you will be doing me a great favour and you will be loved for it!

on to business ::
fence drawing and other massacres

among other things, i’ve been revisiting this space again and again because i do and it is one of the few places in mtl that i can trick myself into being reminded of home [tho it isn’t really home]

there is a strange disappointment in relation to it, to a large proportion to my work.  i feel that one of the main reasons for my making is that it is a coping mechanism for disappointments, loves, unloves, heartbreaks and art school.  it is ridiculous, the amount of spoiled self loathing of privilege i carry.
i am not an artist.

one night after a futile attempt at a human relationship i took the sugar skulls i wanted us to have made and wanted to throw them, i wanted to throw them at THEM but they were not there – they were never really there but that is another story.  instead i took them to the grave and watched them melt in future rain and fog.

extending REST was absolutely integral; this place is more than i think it is, i am always finding something new.  it is always changing i am human and heather and never quite on top of things anyway.

i hadn’t really noticed this path before, and i blatantly did not even see the gate at the top of the hill.

i also worked quite a long way of the fence but i am really not satisfied at all with it and will remove it sometime in the very near future, hopefully tomorrow if life permits it.

hi hand.

one day i will get the hang of it, living, that is.  knowing my practice, my abilities without constantly short changing myself.
i would say we all got some insightful criticisms and ideas today, though i should stick to speaking for myself.

i am thinking of writing + posting an homage to elisabeth belliveau because i recently splurged and bought ‘the great hopeful someday’ with my babysitting money [yes, i am 14 – what of it?] and it is my new bible.  i’ve read it 3 times since tuesday and it is making me so much more aware of the smallest things in life.

like the finding of a quarter on the street and the action of putting it in an old icing tin that is now my nyc fund [$59.19 and counting!!!!]
like the house on waverly that reminds of michigan in 1979 tho i’ve never been there and i was only born in 86.
like my plan to touch every qat on the island of mtl
and the futility of existence that i am going to feel for the rest of my life because being 23 doesn’t solve anything.

i really thought, when i was younger than 22, that i was going to find ~true love at 22.  why 22?  well it was my champagne year – and it most certainly was, the most beautifully bittersweet bubbly i’ve ever experienced – without a doubt the best year of my life thus far, and i miss it very dearly.  maybe 23 will be getting better soon but nothing falls into place.  it is constant effort and rejection and reeffort and i don’t even know what i’m trying to achieve.  in any case, i didn’t find it and now i think i am doomed.  doom doom doom is what i feel in my chest when i wake up, sighing, entertaining the thought of dropping school.  but what for for what?  there is no back up plan.  i am here because i have no better place to be.

good gourd why divulge so much information?  context?  i am producing because i have to, like pulling teeth and blood from a stone.  i have been emptied.  there is nothing left to project[ile vomit] but we go on.  like a zombie empire of art without meaning or need or desire.

we went to joliette and the only engaging work of art there was in the children’s studio.

let that be a lesson for you.