Posts Tagged ‘bloodwork’

Today’s work

Monday, January 5th, 2015

New watercolor in progress. Done for today. Now on to music.

BloodWork in progress

Thursday, September 26th, 2013

Works in progress for the “miniatures” show at Twilight Art in West Seattle in November. Smallest pieces are 2″x2″.


I’ve sewn my heart up tighter, this time.

July showing

Saturday, July 2nd, 2011

Currently, my paintings can be seen at the EM Fine Art gallery in Seattle, Washington as part of their “Divine Feminine” showing.

EM Fine Art Gallery
410 Dexter Ave N
Seattle, Washington

They will be on display and for sale through EM Fine Art until August 1, 2011.

Little Deaths

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011

All of these sold within a few minutes of posting them – but like the hearts, I can make you one if you want one. $50 each, 3×3″ acrylic and artists blood on canvas.

Her music

Saturday, April 23rd, 2011

… Is now my music.


Art-a-Thon 2008

Monday, April 28th, 2008

Man. I am beat. And sore. And super happy. Or something like it.

The art-a-thon was largely transformative (or, transportive?) for me, in many ways. It was an intense weekend. More happened than I am willing to document, both for the sake of my poor body and because I want to hold some of it just for me. But let’s see what comes out.

The aerial piece I wasn’t going to do, and then decided to do, was a storytelling piece which in and of itself is a new thing for me. Incorporating acting and a storyline that’s clear enough for people to understand without alternate explanation is my latest progression in aerials, as well as slowing things down and expressing myself in less of the “look how strong and fast I am”. Expressing vulnerability in the air. I started by switching from rope to silks and doing “The Art of Self Love” act, in which the story is illustrated in the song lyrics.

This time, the story was illustrated by my actions, my face, and visual imagery. It was largely improv, a piece I’d only ever done in my head, which had come to me mid last week. Highly personal. Highly exposed. To those of you who may understand what it means to have finally done it – it was performed to music from the Batman Begins soundtrack (finally!!!). It was incredible, I got the most heart warming and appreciative feedback to date for my aerial work after presenting it. I will be doing the piece again at the Gold Show, on Saturday May 17th.

I painted some, sang some, spent time with friends, cultivating, supporting others works. I slept and took care of myself, spent a lot of time with Clayton that was beneficial and fueling for me, connected with new and old, past and present. I “acted” in a hilarious, incredibly fun dream theater play about superheroes and ninjas and girls who kick ass. I came to some heavy, wonderful realizations this weekend, which were fulfilling, nourishing, and highly meaningful for me.

After an intense and highly emotional conversation of the crack-my-heart-wide-open variety, I went to into the closing ceremony raw, feeling unprotected, impressionable, mailable, and a little afraid.

I’ve been feeling the presence of something, seeing it in my peripheral vision, something big, something I’ve worked hard for, as I’ve gone through the process of my blood paintings. The revisitation of needles, that process, which I have familiarity with in destructive senses, the spiral I see completing, the orbit I’m in, passing those experiences, washing them clean a little, redistributing new memories and associations to old hurts and self loathing.

I thought about that internal spiral while we walked a spiral maze that had been created on the floor during the weekend, in small groups. I thought about that sense of my life illustrated in physical reality, as I bumped shoulders with my chosen family, as I passed them while circling. Remembering that the last time I was using needles on myself, I was trying to die. Trying to run. Trying to lose my mind. I wasn’t safe about it. I overdosed. I used dirty needles, took risks. I wanted to hurt me. And now, I was surrounded by people I’ve cultivated in my life, to help me through that darkness. And they have.

To be drawing my own blood, safely (in perspective), sanitary, for the purpose of life, to express life, has been so grounding, confirming, strengthening for me. The bruises from it, while catering to my dark side, a part of me that recognizes the comfort I’ve taken in hurting myself, wanting to extract my pigment rather than wait for it to come naturally in my cycle (there are other reasons I don’t want to use menstrual blood, too) show me again and again that everything is a process, with polarizations, how much I adore soaking in all of it. All the aspects of it. How miraculous and intelligent our bodies are to heal themselves. And that we do heal. That damage is part of being alive, a part I don’t tend to hide from. That it doesn’t overtake my life. Not anymore.

Holding hands in a circle, a dear friend of the troupe and of mine personally gifted the studio with a giant dream catcher. She then offered us all feathers, which she had been collecting for the last 10 years, to attach to it to this new symbol of unity that will hang at the studio, and to offer something, or wish for something, or give thanks for something, in honor of ourselves while doing so.

I started crying. I couldn’t stop. I was holding something in view that I’ve rarely known how to hold where I could see it. It was glowing and morphing and brilliant. My gratitude for the space, for the people, for the experiences I had this weekend, for the love, for the gifts, the creativity, everywhere I’ve been, everywhere I am going – it was all wrapped up in this thing I was looking at. It was so beautiful to have, while I watched these people I share so much with participate in their rituals.

When it was my turn, as I tied my feather to the dreamcatcher, I cried harder, while what I had in my hands came into focus, in words, in my head.

I am so grateful, for my life. I am so grateful for my life. (I’m crying again writing this). I am so grateful for my life.

I felt liberated, and so substantial. Dense, and lofty. Dark, and light. Attached, and free. Flexible and sturdy. Vulnerable and strong. Overwhelmed, and grounded. I watched a great love of my life chose a place next to mine to tie his feather, mirroring its angle, silently holding his thoughts and wants dear to himself. I watched my sweet friend Cher give call to the universe to bring her sister back home. I watched one of my Heroes break apart a broken painting of his muse, and give a piece to each one of us. I watched my friend Gio honor his friends who have died of AIDS, a disease I’ve become intimately familiar with in the process of my education at school.

I watched so many wonderful people being present, being alive, being HERE, being them.

So much happened. So much I’m not mentioning. So many stories, paintings, pictures, songs, proses, dedications. So much space I’m holding for the world in this sore, tired frame, while I go about my dailys, integrating what I’ve experienced. Things that are happening for me, projects on the horizon that came about from this weekend and beyond, things to see, to do, to be, life to live. This was a fraction. Namaste. I bow to the light in all of you.

I am, arguably, on paper, in the worst financial situation of my adult life, right now. Rarely can I say I’ve felt so wealthy.

“I feel like a pearl of potential that’s finally been set in motion, snowballing down the favored slope of possibility I’ve only imagined the brilliant people must have randomly stumbled upon while slowly backing away from freaks like me.” Jan 28, 2007