Art is hard. Any form of it, and I think that is a worldwide accepted fact. Lately I have to remind myself this and shut out the heavy heart that follows criticism. I have to fight through wanting to give up, drop the brush and pencil, again. Long ago, I forgot what it felt like to have fun with, to enjoy, art and not want to cry because I didn’t get a “wow” or “that’s really good!” I actually began to hide my artwork because I felt the need to protect myself; I poured all my emotions at the time into my pieces and to be told that they needed to be corrected translated into something else.
What I got was that I drew too many skeletons. My work was too stylized.
I started to get angry. I wanted to shout that they weren’t saying Picasso worked in cubism too often, Monet painted too many landscapes, Jacob Lawrence did too many collages, and Andy Goldsworthy should do something other than Land Art.
My escape, my way out of pain, who I was through paint didn’t need to be corrected. There is no correct personality.  I held onto that thought for a very long time but I also stopped drawing and slowly I have stopped painting.
However… I am beginning again but this time I am seeking help from books. Books don’t tell you what to draw and how often you should draw it– they show you methods of how to draw. That’s what’s important. So I will draw as many messed up faces, skeletons, stylized scenes, and paint non-symmetrical paintings as I damn well please.

Happy Alone

With my recent acceptance to UT Dallas I have been thinking a lot about relationships. So far I am convinced that I will remain single because I have had enough of… the time wasting? “Men” my age today aren’t seeking wives, not anymore. To be honest, they’re seeking a quickie and I am not. So I am not going to waste my time with their efforts to try to get my will to bend. I’m done with them trying to convince me into what they want and also wasting my time trying to mellow out my personality. Fuck that. If they can’t deal with me, then I’m not going to waste my time.
“Men” my age now can barely call themselves men; their heads are so far up their own asses or they have no clue what they want from life. They’re airheads, have no drive, addicted to porn thus they don’t have a clue on romance, or can’t carry a conversation about anything, or all the above. Why not date someone older? Arrogant assholes. They think they have everything figured out and know everything. It’s like dating a stereotypical teenager, actually. They cannot accept they no one has everything figured out and they aren’t the strongest beings on the planet, no matter what they’ve done. You also have the condescending “you’re a young girl so listen to me on everything” issue. No, bitch, I make my own decisions and my own mistakes.

I talked to my mother about all of this and she said I might be one of those people who never marries or is in a relationship. If that is the case then I am going to bask in the badassery that given my beliefs I have been approved to be happy alone.