Category Archives: Art

The Creative

It’s another one of those days when I feel like getting rid of all the creative things- the archive and the supplies. I desire so much to feel “newness”- and I wonder if in a purge I would be re-ignited with some new brilliant fire.

The fact of the matter is – it is simply a lack of space that I am experiencing within my creative ability that folds over into a sort of claustrophobia that overlaps with living space. I have so many art forms and such little space.

It is hard to share sleep/eat/care for animals/ create and stretch all in one small space- my ideas get big very easily. There is nowhere here to sew- so I put it on the backburner. Just when I get cleaned up and rearranged, I want to create another clutter of ideas, or outfits, and a meal. It’s chaotically lived in- and it’s driving me crazy because I deeply desire a place for everything, and everything in it’s place. I have the heart and mind of Mary Poppins- but the activity levels of chaos more like Pippi Longstocking.

I’ve recently applied for art studio space- which would help me tremendously in an effort to be more creative and social within an environment that is specific to that kind of energy.

I think a lack of a creative studio environment over time, in certain situations, is the reason for me wanting to give up. It’s daunting to manage what you want to do, when everything is overlapping in a small space.

Do I really think I should give up my creative drives, or just leave my work for free on a street corner? No. Deep down I know that this is my life work- my life work isn’t marketing or advertising; it is to continue to create despite the current art world hustle culture. Essentially I am curating myself, not so much as a brand, because I think “branding” is etymologically kind of gross.

I create because I am asserting that I exist. I am part of Creation, and I have a unique voice within the greater whole- despite how many things I have in common with every other part of Creation. I honor similarity and variety.

I’m not sure how I am to survive off my work- I only know it’s what I am suppose to be doing- and that everything I experience is multidimensional and the work is to reflect that. I’m not really suppose to be marketing or advertising because that isn’t my strength or interest, and despite attempting to do those things, because “other people do those things and it seems to be working for them.” It hasn’t worked that way for me and the attempts have made my stomach churn.

I recently saw a video where a person was meditating on ” staying in their own lane” for the day. Like go about the tasks and just go with the flow and see what happens- don’t switch lanes to get ahead, just be patient. And that really worked out for them, insightfully.

Last night I was thinking along the lines of that video- and I thought- hmm what if there are young creatives that would like my work but exist in a different lane specialty wise? What if I could find someone who is excited about the prospect of marketing in a unique way?

Essentially I want to give what I want for myself. Opportunities (etym: fit, convenient of time) that resonate (etym: resound:re-echo) and obligate (etym: bind,fasten, connect: moral ) with foreseeable and experiential benefit .

In other terms; Multidimensionally my work is about serving the All of Creation- and that is VAST- and as I am being shown the vastness of my own unique voice, connected to the Greater All- I am being somewhat humbled multidimensionally in the knowing that I have kept myself small and somewhat invisible for a reason; all the while feeling so much more, a potential of something much bigger.

It’s that part of your soul that sang as a child, “I want to make the world a better place!”

I think many secret creatives are feeling the same thing- they need more space to create what they love to create- and it feels like the Universe is saying “yes” but many of the creative people who get the “inner self workings” seem to be isolated somewhat in their communities- unless they are the type to push themselves into scenes. Really they just want to be seen and invited- invitation means choice and the ability to be seen with what one resonates with… These are creatives who have learned what it means to hold a “hard no” for good reasons. They are also the ones that say “Yes, Please” with their whole heart.

I’ve found for myself to participate in a way of force is exhausting and I personally need a balance of focused work with some social aspect but the the work isn’t and should never be about money- it’s about people and a perspective of connectedness. It’s about sharing experience and seeing yourself in others; and it’s really weird work because it’s the reason I still exist.

If I didn’t have creative impulses and deep insights about life and death at a very young age, I’d have taken my own life as an early teen. I’ve never really felt very connected with this world I live in. I don’t “get” politics, money, acceptance of weird social constructs. I’m pretty sure I could get an adult diagnosis for something if I lived in a place that cared more about those things- but even then, that would just set me up into another box the world creates for some reason of data collection.

The biggest box I live in, that I acknowledge is the one I physically live in- “The Studio on Central”. I could say I am “An Artist” and live in that box, but I believe we are all artists we just don’t always acknowledge that in ourselves- and that is part of my work- to show people the Artistry which is All, which is: Creation. You can’t get a paycheck for that shit- it’s not a legit job in the sense of commerce or capitalism. For whatever Goddamn reason- I got tasked with this nonsense. ( Said from the curmudgeon part of me that wishes she could “just be normal.”)

I was told to come and create and share. I was told not to worry about money or fame.

I was told to dream big; though I do, I have simultaneously shut myself off from being welcome or submissive to what BIG might look like- basically by making myself really small and buying some lie that I’m not worth the BIG opportunities. Something big to me, could be minute to someone else- contrary to popular belief there is room for both to exist in the world- staying small serves who, when one has a heart is so big?

In an expansive sense I know I am larger than life- I feel ready to share that feeling with others- because multidimensionally we are all larger than life- that is a free insight- and it’s a knowing feeling that you cannot buy or pay for. It’s the one thing that can keep you grounded and vast at the same time.

The Creative

Change of Tune

Here is my recent collaboration with Alessandro.

While camping, I got caught in quite the hail storm and had to wait it out in the warm safety of Argo, my Subaru Crosstrek. While inside I played DJ with the window wipers, the air fan control, and the radio/ CD player. I was pumped to have a Daft Punk disc in my possession- it really lends a vibe.

Alessandro took the raw files and created the musical glue that holds my chaos into cohesion.

Enjoy this new sample of expression.

Everything All At Once

Sometime in the Spring of 2006, I sat on some sea side cliff outside Mendocino, California and I had a truly transcendental DMT experience.

I had imbibed the charismatic chemical maybe twice before- but in a moderate amount that didn’t catapult me from my body- rather showed me the interconnected threads.

Rewind to the first time.

Eugene, Oregon- the house of a bear whose color was blue

He saw threads all the time- and when he saw me- he gave the invite

The first time I did DMT- I was slight- my sight became loose- and in between the focus of his room I saw his connections to everything coming out from him in blue and red threads-

The things he loved were connected in red

His ambivalence existed in blue

I was truly in the Matrix

His cocoon wrapped around me with both colors

I could see he loved me with all of his heart in this moment- but he wasn’t invested in me beyond what was at hand

Can you imagine it? To meet someone new with no future expectation- to just fully embrace them in the time that you have- and then send them on their way?

Nothing near sexual happened, but it was deeply intimate.

In this beginning of seeing the connection of things in a very visual and tangible way- I didn’t see my own threads. I just saw the construct of my host.

People came and went- One stayed for hours. Raven sat with me and we created art into the early morning hours.

Flashforward – I’m on this cliffside- the sun is in a vibrant set of mind. I am sitting with a frenamy- a sister- a questionable source.

I am along for the ride because of curiosity and responsibility to accompany purpose- though I am not sure what that is yet.

I take in three, strong, long hits as the sun sinks into the horizon.

I am transported beyond space and time into a place which is every color and every feeling to have ever exist in a tiny box of emotional explosion.

My physical body looses control and I am laughing and crying and gasping for air- but I only see colors until I am safely returned to my body with a singular thought;

“It’s all a joke. One beautiful and sick joke.”

For a moment I feel reconciliation.

Multidimensional Thinking

I have a mentor, an elder; my neighbor

And once he said in discourse of deeper discussion and potential

“it either will- or it won’t.”

The third party in this conversation of minds wanted to deny the black and white binary of of universal outcomes

“Of course there is more!”

I sat silent- because I could see both sides.

My mentor sat still and strong “Every potential either will, or will not occur!”

The younger constituent who wants to be right, fights long and hard- ” It isn’t black or white- and other things can occur.”

It’s fun to laugh in the corner knowing more than two things can be right and wrong at the same time.

Art by Mandie Shattuck aka Madge Midgely – multimedia on canvas

Yellow House

Overall the house is rather inconspicuous. It sits on the corner. It’s weathered exterior doesn’t draw much attention. I find it significant because it is the second yellow house I have lived in- in a row.

The subdivided dwelling holds approximately 19 living beings with an extra two who dwell in the detached garage. Ten humans and nine animals in the main house. Two adults in the garage. Six Adults and four children under the age of seven along with five cats and four dogs in the main house.

Overall the house is pretty quiet during the day. One Retiree, Three worker bees and me- the artist trying to figure things out.

The loudness comes in waves. The neighbor comes home to let the dogs out- the kids come home from school. The neighbor’s live in boyfriend come home loudly on cue as if he is lugging the weight of the world soaked in anger.

There are a few personalities here that disrupt the otherwise still home.

Each one brings the anger soaked world with them. So entrenched in their own chaos they forget that we are sharing walls in this subdivision. They become ignorant that their vehement actions effect the lives around them.

Just a month ago I called the non emergency line several times. Disruption of peace, but also the fear that something sinister may be afoot with the reckless actions and words vibrating the wood fiber of our dwelling.

It is those raised voices that lend a feeling that one isn’t safe- and in my childhood I didn’t know how to react in those situations- other than to shut up and take cover. In my adulthood I have no tolerance for other adults who choose to treat those they claim to love with such vitriol. I also acknowledge that I am not an expert in de-escalation- and sometimes it is vital to seek help.

The retaliation hasn’t been that bad- but the fear it could escalate is evident. I want to think I have done the right thing- because I, myself are not threatening on the surface. Bring in the uniform- face your threat of authority ripping your life away. Sometimes we need it on the road to better things. You realize you do not want to act in a way that would make you a lighthouse in the dark with those who can change your reality.

Anyway- the house is like an instrument that changes cadence when certain people arrive or leave. And the stillness I crave tries to numb itself as these repetitive and scheduled waves activate the creaks of floors and slams of doors.

Even the new baby cries in a way that isn’t threatening- like it learned in the womb that they must not overly upset the tyrant that is their father- but I know somewhere down the road that this little boy will tower over his father- and that battle will eventually end.

Cryptic.

I’ve known since I moved in that this house is a wayward spot for the drifting – craving roots and something stable but the house will show you your worst self. And you can either work at it and get toward better and then it will spit you out, or you can reconcile your worst and stay in that zone and it will also spit you out.

It is a perfect place to reformulate what you want from yourself- because settling here isn’t for anyone but the retiree, whose son owns the house and wants a safe place for his father.

I like safety. The anger trolls compromise the feeling of safety not just for me- but for anyone who can hear their tirades. It becomes ironic when these tirades lead to having their own safety feel compromised. At this point the challenge is on the the individual to comprehend why someone may make an effort to level the playing field.

I know I am not wrong in action, but it can feel as such when retaliation comes to play.

Meanwhile the house is going to let us in and let us figure out what we have to learn in the comfort of walls and a roof. The house doesn’t ca re so much- it knows it’s job. The house is a house- it is our lives that give it life and make it a home- and a home can be comfortably uncomfortable.

October Wrap Up

Holy Freaking Autumn! This was hands down one of the most beautiful and warm Octobers I have ever experienced my many years in Cheyenne (I don’t know what it was like when I wasn’t here for the other years).

As a child it was almost always certain that you would have to wear a winter jacket and snow pants with your costume; unless you went to the mall in a climate control environment. The only people who really saw the full costume were family like Grandma and Grandpa- the obligatory drop by.

October was a good month for me- I was a featured artist at my favorite local pub that accepts dogs. I sold art work. I made some new acquaintances. I cross promoted my work. Yeah- I felt almost normal in the sense of remembering myself. Still there is so much to work on.

Part of my cross promotion tactic was to go to open mic, share my writing/spoken word/ collabs with Alessandro amidst my creations- It was pretty tight.

It is now Thurs Nov. 3- and I went to last nights open mic to perform- the art was different and so was the audience- of course every audience is different but the energy with the art was different. No worries- I went on and did what I arrived to do.

There was a rather loud group of older ladies at the front where I was performing – and I will just say it was a test to stay on track and keep, keeping on. Other things have unfolded as well-

The plan is to re-evaluate. But if you are interested in checking out a synopses of my October Open Mics and picking up dog poop- I will link it here.

All apologies in advance- the pod gets a little too ASMR at times while I am carrying Journey’s shit sack. No worries- tune into the other episodes you like .

I’ve got some ideas cooking that I hope to get into action, so stay tuned!

https://anchor.fm/messcast/embed/episodes/Open-Mics-and-dog-poops-e1p7346

Dear Lost Loves-

Dear Lost Loves I invested so dearly in- it is time to let you burn in the fire- in order to reignite my own desires – now you are all tethered.

Thank you for the lessons in our youthful indiscretions

Thank you for showing me your shadowy demons

Thank you for allowing us to learn to know and grow away from one another

Thank you for the bruises

It’s my time now- you are purged from me and the reality I have in mind would scare you – and that is why I say good bye.

You will maybe in my reverie but your name needn’t ever be upon my lips- Regardless I wish you the best- but I exist in a new atmosphere.

Things That Make Me Want To Puke

I get it- I’m a B side. Fringe. Cult Classic. It’s cool- that’s all I wanted.

Why do I seek more? Why do I want acknowledgement?

Yo! I see you, being influenced by me- but no recognition given.

Nah, it’s cool- fame isn’t my game- but when I like what you do, I say so-

or hit those sigils of modern acceptance.

Why is it so easy for you in one way, and easier for me in another.

If we consider ourselves creatives why does it feel like we are creating

against each other in some competition looking to extremes?

I don’t want to be some artistic meme

My soul is a collaborator- but I need you to see me to be a participant in that bigger thing we are both actively creating.

If I am paying for this- I should get my moneys worth- right?

I have a great playlist. And of course I am biased, I built the playlist. Catered it to me in a way that I have NEVER spent that much time on myself. Freaking weird. I only started building it a couple of years ago, so it’s pretty new. It has some old stuff on there, but not really old stuff because that stuff doesn’t carry the vibe I want on my list.

My list isn’t about old boyfriends or things of that sort… It’s my “Make Art” playlist. A list of songs that really don’t have strong attachments to other people; songs that make me want to move my body, sing along and get to work with strong attitude.

Some of it has a strong “Fuck it” vibe, other parts are “I saw that coming and now I am dealing with it , with strength”- I don’t know it’s like equal parts, love, loss, renegade bookworm- I like it. I want more of it and I realize as I seem somewhat isolated from people who talk about fringe bands- I guess I need some new humans to help me add to the play list.

I started saying that it was my playlist- but I don’t know if I would have ventured down certain musical paths without some outside influence that now sits as a painful part of my heart. And I have had to somewhat disassociate liking a song or more from the human who first said “listen to this.”

It’s tough- and it shouldn’t be- because the world is saturated with music and yet always thirsty enough to never be flooded.

Heck- I make music- I doubt anyone is putting it on a favorite playlist- but I make music. I don’t care who likes it. I like making it. I could never play anything I recorded twice, because it isn’t the thing with associate with popular music- repetitive. It’s weird to think that someone might listen to something I have created, more than once.

I admit I am probably my own biggest fan. I have to be in order to continue creating. My creations are not about views or likes, or whatever outcome we are told to attach to as the reason to create. I create because I HAVE TO or I WILL GO CRAZY. It is an outlet of expression that gives a modicum of purpose when trying to exist in this very tiresome and convoluted reality.

So to those creators who have made it to a hyper playlist of someone who just needs a little inspiration at times- Thank you. Sometimes just a few notes and beats are what one needs to pick up the brush and paint or stretch the body into dance- or feel motivated to clean the bathroom.

Music is magic, and a potent playlist can change the trajectory of a moment, mood or day. For that I am blessed and grateful for the expanse of options I have and have yet to explore.