Friday, April 16, 2010

Philosophical thoughts: art

Art comes in all shapes and sizes. Some people get huffy about what's an art and what's "just" a craft, but then half the time, those are the same people that say things like Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" is art, because he was looking at things from a new perspective. Marcel Duchamp's fountain is an important piece because of what it stood for and why he did it, but I'm not here to talk about that.


I believe everyone is an artist; everyone's point of view is worthy of a frame, even if it's the art of cleaning a toilet. It's not what you do, it's the fact that you do it your own way, and that's an expression of who you are. If it comes from your heart, it's worth something.

For more information on Marcel Duchamp's Fountain, click here!

Thursday, April 8, 2010

What My Brain Says: Teenage Love

As always, I can't concentrate on cleaning when I try. I inevitably get distracted by something and go off on a tangent, often without hope of return. Again today, I'm getting distracted. I was going through my art closet and trying to organize stuff when I found some old writings of mine. So, in lieu of cleaning, I'm going to share them with you.

My teenage years were like everyone else's teenage years. I spent time with my friends, I giggled at boys, and tried to figure out what life was all about. I was very ungraceful when it came to speaking, so most of the time, if I had something to say, I wrote it down. Here are my teenage thoughts on Love.


Daisy
He loves me... he loves me not.
... he's the one I've always sought.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... I've known him since he was a tot.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... I think since then he's changed a lot.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... In fact, I heard that he smokes pot.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... You should have seen the girl he brought

He loves me... he loves me not.
...Unless I'm wrong, he called her "Dot"

He loves me... he loves me not.
... that day, they just fought and fought.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... now she sleeps in a different cot.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... too bad, there was a ring he'd bought.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... Rumors say it's worth a yacht.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... but he might have another thought.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... and that's where I can join the plot.

He loves me... he loves me not.
... Do you think we might tie the knot?

He loves me...                         
      He loves me not.     
      ... He should be shot.
~written when I was in eighth grade (or so)


I would admit to loving you,
but saying "love" would burn my lips.
The strength that such a word ensues
Is far beyond mentality's tips.

I beg of you do not enrage
My heart must know before I tell
As yet I am not bold to say
I love you, though I care quite well.

                               ~written around my junior year in High School

Yep, I liked poetry. And love, evidently.

Happy Easter!

I draw during church to help myself concentrate. This is what I drew one Easter. Hope your Easter was grand!