Hello hello! I've been busy.
I used red jasper for the snake's eyes. What you can't tell is how ~tiny~ this Medusa is...the woman who ordered it has a very small face. I was only able to fit eleven snakes on there (well, twelve including the one I carved on the forehead). She wanted "fire" colors, so I chose copper and gold on black but I decided to make a banded snake. It's just my own silly whimsy but![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rumdiculous astutely pointed out that it looks a bit like the very poisonous coral snake. I should totally do one like that sometime, on purpose! :-)
I used red jasper for the snake's eyes. What you can't tell is how ~tiny~ this Medusa is...the woman who ordered it has a very small face. I was only able to fit eleven snakes on there (well, twelve including the one I carved on the forehead). She wanted "fire" colors, so I chose copper and gold on black but I decided to make a banded snake. It's just my own silly whimsy but
rumdiculous astutely pointed out that it looks a bit like the very poisonous coral snake. I should totally do one like that sometime, on purpose! :-)You know...sometimes I get to thinking (which is NEVER a good idea!) about my life and my nature. I wonder why I am the way I am. It occurs to me that being an artist, this compulsion to make things, is what I am. It colors every aspect of my life.
I was born this way, born making stuff. My Mom loves to tell me stories about what I was like when I was a baby. As soon as I could grasp, I started drawing pictures. She tells me that when I was just 16 months old I would spend hours and hours at a tiny desk my Dad made for me, drawing. She used to bribe me with things like boxes of crayons and markers, just to get me to eat or play outside, or take a nap. All I wanted to do was draw. You might think, "Well, that's learned behavior because her father was an artist", but no, back then when I was born Dad had a job at J. Walter Thompson in NYC. He left for the office every day, did all his drawing there. So I'm obviously genetically hotwired to WANT to make stuff. I have no control over it.
And, you know, it's molded who I am. I approach the world sideways with a pencil in my hand. Everything I see is potentially fodder for my creativity, the real world is just my palate. I never had to learn to be social, I never had to fit in. As a child, when interaction was going on all around me, I'd position myself centrally, plop on my butt, cross my legs and start drawing. A crowd could (and almost always did) gather, and I'd just draw and draw. I'd silently fill requests, or just do my thing. I could have an audience, or not. It didn't matter to me. I was "makin' stuff".
It came as a surprise to me one day that I was a pretty girl. It came as a surprise to me one day that people considered me wise (reading was just the thing I did when I wasn't drawing...reading was the exercise I put my imagination through in order to spark more images). It came as a TOTAL surprise to me that people liked being around me, considered me nice, considered me a friend.
Because I'm a terrible friend. Terrible. I live so much in my own head, I really don't ~feel~ friendly. I'm just being me. I like my own company so much that people are a distraction. People IRL let me down all the time. They never seem to want (or be able to) connect in the way *I* would like to connect. Their heads are closed. Their mouths flap. They make foolish sounds about religion or politics. They make me want to just sit and draw and shut out their silly. So I do.
And when I ~have~ to be social, I can do it so well. I smile and make all the right sounds. I am funny. People laugh when I'm around. I can be (and often am) the center of attention. But it all feels so phoney.
Today, I called up a venue, in order to show up on short notice this weekend and sell my art. They know me there. I haven't been there in years. The woman on the phone, she fell all over herself, she was SO glad I'd be coming. She was all "we have to hang out!". Her husband was there too, in the background I could hear him; "Tell her I said hi!! Tell her I can't wait to see her new stuff!!". I have NO idea who these people are. I don't even know their names. I have no real idea why they seem to like me so much. I'm going to have to walk in there with an open face tomorrow and just say "Hi!" warmly to whoever runs up to me, so they'll think I'm glad to see them.
I don't mean to be so superficial. I don't mean to be so closed off. I'm. SO. Lonely. Almost all the time. I crave the ~idea~ of friends, but in practice I'm a bad friend. I get distracted by my art, I get busy, I get frustrated with how obtuse most people are.
A few years ago, a guy who I considered a pretty good friend ( better than most...someone who I could spend a few hours talking to without wanting to chop my own head off) told me he loved me. Said he had a crush on me. (This was very naughty of him, by the way, because at the time I was already in a committed relationship with the guy I ended up marrying). I was completely astounded by his pronouncement. I remember looking at him like he'd sprouted horns..."How the HELL could you be in love with me? You have NO idea who I am." Because even though we hung out and talked and seemed to have some kind of relationship...when you got right down to it I was just as superficial with this guy as I am with everyone.
So, I wonder what it is that I'm putting out there, into the world, besides my art. Whatever it is, people seem to like it. Ask anyone who knows me IRL and they'll tell you I'm nice, helpful, fun, entertaining, smart, etc... All good things. And yet, in my heart, I feel so alone, like such a fake.
Because in the end, all I really have room for in my head is my art and my thoughts. I love my family, of course. I'm always ~here~ for everyone, all the time. And yet, I'm not. I give and give (almost to a fault) but I'm dealing off the top of the deck. I hold my aces close to me.
Those people today, on the phone...they shamed me. I felt so bad for not being the person they think I am. I wish I could be that person sometimes (times just like right now).
I think I love being here on LJ because there are some folks (right here on my f-list) who remind me so much of me. This forum, it cracks our heads open. Our selves spill out in words, right onto the keyboard, right onto the screen. We click a button and suddenly we're sharing. It feels closer to how I ~wish~ the world worked than anything else does. It feels like real openness, real sharing of thoughts and selves. I see sisters here, separated by time and space but SO much like myself. I crave that SO much.
I guess, here, I don't feel so all alone with myself. Isn't that weird? Who I am isolates me, but it also frees me to share so much of myself, if only in this imperfect medium. How strange.
I wonder, is it just me that feels this way? Am I just your typical artist? Does this happen the same way for everyone?I was born this way, born making stuff. My Mom loves to tell me stories about what I was like when I was a baby. As soon as I could grasp, I started drawing pictures. She tells me that when I was just 16 months old I would spend hours and hours at a tiny desk my Dad made for me, drawing. She used to bribe me with things like boxes of crayons and markers, just to get me to eat or play outside, or take a nap. All I wanted to do was draw. You might think, "Well, that's learned behavior because her father was an artist", but no, back then when I was born Dad had a job at J. Walter Thompson in NYC. He left for the office every day, did all his drawing there. So I'm obviously genetically hotwired to WANT to make stuff. I have no control over it.
And, you know, it's molded who I am. I approach the world sideways with a pencil in my hand. Everything I see is potentially fodder for my creativity, the real world is just my palate. I never had to learn to be social, I never had to fit in. As a child, when interaction was going on all around me, I'd position myself centrally, plop on my butt, cross my legs and start drawing. A crowd could (and almost always did) gather, and I'd just draw and draw. I'd silently fill requests, or just do my thing. I could have an audience, or not. It didn't matter to me. I was "makin' stuff".
It came as a surprise to me one day that I was a pretty girl. It came as a surprise to me one day that people considered me wise (reading was just the thing I did when I wasn't drawing...reading was the exercise I put my imagination through in order to spark more images). It came as a TOTAL surprise to me that people liked being around me, considered me nice, considered me a friend.
Because I'm a terrible friend. Terrible. I live so much in my own head, I really don't ~feel~ friendly. I'm just being me. I like my own company so much that people are a distraction. People IRL let me down all the time. They never seem to want (or be able to) connect in the way *I* would like to connect. Their heads are closed. Their mouths flap. They make foolish sounds about religion or politics. They make me want to just sit and draw and shut out their silly. So I do.
And when I ~have~ to be social, I can do it so well. I smile and make all the right sounds. I am funny. People laugh when I'm around. I can be (and often am) the center of attention. But it all feels so phoney.
Today, I called up a venue, in order to show up on short notice this weekend and sell my art. They know me there. I haven't been there in years. The woman on the phone, she fell all over herself, she was SO glad I'd be coming. She was all "we have to hang out!". Her husband was there too, in the background I could hear him; "Tell her I said hi!! Tell her I can't wait to see her new stuff!!". I have NO idea who these people are. I don't even know their names. I have no real idea why they seem to like me so much. I'm going to have to walk in there with an open face tomorrow and just say "Hi!" warmly to whoever runs up to me, so they'll think I'm glad to see them.
I don't mean to be so superficial. I don't mean to be so closed off. I'm. SO. Lonely. Almost all the time. I crave the ~idea~ of friends, but in practice I'm a bad friend. I get distracted by my art, I get busy, I get frustrated with how obtuse most people are.
A few years ago, a guy who I considered a pretty good friend ( better than most...someone who I could spend a few hours talking to without wanting to chop my own head off) told me he loved me. Said he had a crush on me. (This was very naughty of him, by the way, because at the time I was already in a committed relationship with the guy I ended up marrying). I was completely astounded by his pronouncement. I remember looking at him like he'd sprouted horns..."How the HELL could you be in love with me? You have NO idea who I am." Because even though we hung out and talked and seemed to have some kind of relationship...when you got right down to it I was just as superficial with this guy as I am with everyone.
So, I wonder what it is that I'm putting out there, into the world, besides my art. Whatever it is, people seem to like it. Ask anyone who knows me IRL and they'll tell you I'm nice, helpful, fun, entertaining, smart, etc... All good things. And yet, in my heart, I feel so alone, like such a fake.
Because in the end, all I really have room for in my head is my art and my thoughts. I love my family, of course. I'm always ~here~ for everyone, all the time. And yet, I'm not. I give and give (almost to a fault) but I'm dealing off the top of the deck. I hold my aces close to me.
Those people today, on the phone...they shamed me. I felt so bad for not being the person they think I am. I wish I could be that person sometimes (times just like right now).
I think I love being here on LJ because there are some folks (right here on my f-list) who remind me so much of me. This forum, it cracks our heads open. Our selves spill out in words, right onto the keyboard, right onto the screen. We click a button and suddenly we're sharing. It feels closer to how I ~wish~ the world worked than anything else does. It feels like real openness, real sharing of thoughts and selves. I see sisters here, separated by time and space but SO much like myself. I crave that SO much.
I guess, here, I don't feel so all alone with myself. Isn't that weird? Who I am isolates me, but it also frees me to share so much of myself, if only in this imperfect medium. How strange.
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Re: Sometimes I feel scattered and thrown to the wind
Big surprise. I'm as far off the norm as you can get without being a psycho. (At least, I'm HOPING I'm still not a psycho. Sometimes it's hard to tell...)
You know what, though? You probably just need more artist friends irl. My problem (one of many) is that I never meet anyone like ME, and I only get along with people who are like me in the base of the spirit...but who have enough about their opinions and visions that are different that I still find them interesting. So basically, I never like anyone ;)
I only want to be more social when I'm depressed. But I'm weird even for an artist. I'd say everyone THINKS you're pretty friendly, Meri, if that helps any :) (After all, friendliness is like beauty...it's in the eye of the beholder.)