Tiny Howl
little rabbits have big ears
12.12.2012
7.28.2012
Finally
Quick sketch (like literally 20 mins) inspired by the Anna Morgan mirror scene from The Ring
rough sketch of Frances Bean Cobain ~ original photograph by Heidi Slimane
(please ignore the lips ;~;)
Hannah, my neighbors' granddaughter, drew me (I am on the right)
Closed shades
7.15.2012
Technical Difficulties
hello! I see I've had a couple of page views in July, so I thought I would make a little announcement.
I do not want anyone to think that I no longer have interest in uploading here. I have still been sketching, but due to [quite a few] unfortunate technical difficulties, I am unable to upload quality pictures of my work. I have had to return my laptop for screen issues 4 times now, and my 7 year-old desktop refuses to acknowledge the existence of my camera. bummer. if everything goes as planned, I will have a new laptop later this month, and I will be able to post more and play ketchup (heh, catch up).
xo
I do not want anyone to think that I no longer have interest in uploading here. I have still been sketching, but due to [quite a few] unfortunate technical difficulties, I am unable to upload quality pictures of my work. I have had to return my laptop for screen issues 4 times now, and my 7 year-old desktop refuses to acknowledge the existence of my camera. bummer. if everything goes as planned, I will have a new laptop later this month, and I will be able to post more and play ketchup (heh, catch up).
xo
6.02.2012
Two
practicing two types of hair (and still sucking at it)
also a huge thank you to kiefer for helping me upload <3
5.18.2012
5.03.2012
4.06.2012
Abandoned
Three years ago, I was in the passenger seat glaring out of the side window. Trees and tobacco fields were in a blur for miles. In my vision there came an old abandoned field, and in this field lie an old abandoned shed covered in tangled vines and surrounded by lanky grasses that reached toward the sun.
I wanted to write about this sight. I wanted it to be poetic in the best way I knew. I wanted this expressed in similes and alliteration. I wanted to capture the beautiful feeling of nature taking back what was rightfully hers. As words blossomed in my mind, I tried to keep the words instilled there very picturesque as I relentlessly searched for a piece of paper and a pen. The backside of the receipt is all I found, and it is there that my memories were captured.
The receipt was thrown away in a similar manner other beautiful things are often thrown away. Unnoticed and unintentionally. I could no longer express in similes and alliteration my vision. My words exist no longer. I cannot bring them back into existence.
It isn't until you come upon a faint memory of what was once beautiful so long ago and how you felt when it was all happening, that you remember it ever existed at all. This scenario must have crossed my mind three dozen times since, and with every time came an incentive to write it all down. Yet every time I have tried to recreate that memory in my mind in order to write, it becomes more skewed. I once read that every time someone remembers anything at all, it less accurate that memory becomes.
Anything I would write would be full of lies and misinformation.
It would be fabricated bull shit that could no longer accurately represent what I saw -- what I felt.
That moment of containing precisely how beautiful something was had passed.
The words were written in hope of being kept and worked around, and there will not be another instance this moment could be documented and reflected upon how I wished that moment. All I have is a faint memory of witnessing something so beautiful that it touched me. I try to hold onto this memory as well as I can, but it continues to fade.
To keep something truly beautiful, one must keep it close, accurate as possible, and handle it with care.
If it isn't, the memory becomes fabricated bull shit.
Beauty is lost every time it crosses the mind.
I wanted to write about this sight. I wanted it to be poetic in the best way I knew. I wanted this expressed in similes and alliteration. I wanted to capture the beautiful feeling of nature taking back what was rightfully hers. As words blossomed in my mind, I tried to keep the words instilled there very picturesque as I relentlessly searched for a piece of paper and a pen. The backside of the receipt is all I found, and it is there that my memories were captured.
The receipt was thrown away in a similar manner other beautiful things are often thrown away. Unnoticed and unintentionally. I could no longer express in similes and alliteration my vision. My words exist no longer. I cannot bring them back into existence.
It isn't until you come upon a faint memory of what was once beautiful so long ago and how you felt when it was all happening, that you remember it ever existed at all. This scenario must have crossed my mind three dozen times since, and with every time came an incentive to write it all down. Yet every time I have tried to recreate that memory in my mind in order to write, it becomes more skewed. I once read that every time someone remembers anything at all, it less accurate that memory becomes.
Anything I would write would be full of lies and misinformation.
It would be fabricated bull shit that could no longer accurately represent what I saw -- what I felt.
That moment of containing precisely how beautiful something was had passed.
The words were written in hope of being kept and worked around, and there will not be another instance this moment could be documented and reflected upon how I wished that moment. All I have is a faint memory of witnessing something so beautiful that it touched me. I try to hold onto this memory as well as I can, but it continues to fade.
To keep something truly beautiful, one must keep it close, accurate as possible, and handle it with care.
If it isn't, the memory becomes fabricated bull shit.
Beauty is lost every time it crosses the mind.
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