Hate is a Strong word. I HaTe writing Artist Statements

Here was the original:




Pink, White, Green, and Blue

I paint.

Sometimes the paintings are statements concerning clashing cultures; sometimes they are fun; sometimes

you just need to get some emotion out; sometimes you want to daydream all night long; sometimes they

represent emotions you long to hold onto even if they should be gone; sometimes you can’t erase what

you’ve seen, heard, and done.

Sometimes, you just want to turn your back to the world because of what the world has done, with only

your shadow as a friend, so kind and dear, a copy made out of artificial light when the sun isn’t near. But

that doesn’t make things very clear in the world; it doesn’t make you anywhere; sometimes you have to

move out of that spot and get away, and not stay.

Painting isn’t a practice of craft but of my subconscious. I usually express the work I do as biographical.

They hold within them the emotions of experiences of the day or of events of my life. They are my

journal without words.

These paintings have been hidden away in darkness for a couple and few years (there are more). They’ve

locked away an experience that I’ve skillfully denied, only to surface in the form of sudden fear or bodily

sickness. Although the images represented may not obviously the situation, they hold emotions difficult

to eliminate.

Some of their titles are related, but for the sake of allowing an arbitrary meaning, a display of the

technicality, and hopefully to sever my emotions strings the titles are left as descriptions.

Three models were used.

New edition at home...

Ever visit someone with a cat and end up with enough fur in your hand to build your own? 


For better and complete instructions, you can buy the book of inspiration: Crafting with Cat Hair

I first laid eyes upon it last Christmas hunting for an interesting time at Barnes and Noble Book Store.  My first reaction was of disgust (which tends to be the first words that come from those who have seen the finished project live). Delving deeper and finding how achieveable the process was, I decided one day I was going to do that.

A couple of months later, access to a cat transpired.
Taiga.

My gracious boyfriend, at the time, harvested her loose hair, already matted and closely felted, in the manner the book explains.

And then comes the prep.

Formed into a bunny.

Jarred.

Here is the finished product:

Surrounding the bunny beau are the carnations he gave me on our 3 month anniversary. Although, I love flowers I am not a fan of receiving them.  I tend to lean of their shadowing view of beautiful slowly or quickly dying depending on how you care for them.  In any case, eventually it will die, just like our relationship.

Oh well. It was a sweet creature that was bred.