It’s on me: A drink for a doodle
December 12, 2010
You get something, I get something. I’ll buy your therapy.
Dish out your self-portrait. Be creative + crafty or dangerous + sharp. Be you. Exaggerate. Pour out some paint, throw in some mud, use your fingers, and make a mess!
Why should you waste time with chunks of crayon, erasers, and glue sticks?
Therapy. It feels really good. And who isn’t a tad narcissistic these days? Check out my mermaid waves. Also, I’ll include a link to your website if you want some attention.
Other than a free therapy session (unleash your inner tarantula or unicorn), I buy you a drink. Since I can’t and won’t take you out for a drink, I’ll send you a drink via snail mail. (Spend it on cotton swabs or jelly beans if you don’t drink alcohol.)
I get the doodle, and you get the drink. Win-win-WIN. There are stipulations, of course. And I don’t just give drinks away. Effort is necessary.
Here’s what you get when you give:
→Share a self-portrait with your story, and you’ll be savoring a delicious PBR in no time. $3
→Bacon beer in your belly. Submit a diorama with the story, and you will taste the meat in no time. Cheers. $5
→If you are eco-friendly and apply organic materials to the caricature (with story), then salt up the arm, a tequila shot is on the way. Tequila! $7
→Ambitious and dangerous? Two drawings with two stories = One delicious dirty martini. Encourage a friend to play! $9
→Delight your friends. Collect 5 self-portraits + stories. Send. Celebrate with a round of shots. $21
It’s easy to submit. Fill out the form.
Yellow eyebrows
May 20, 2010
“My sister was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease when she was in her early 40′s. By the time they figured out what she had, they gave her three months to live. She ended up living for three years, due in large part to her fervent love for her young daughters.
Her name is Kathy. She was technically my half sister, but was like a mother to me. I packed up all of my things and moved from Florida to California at her suggestion when I was in my early 20′s. It never occurred to me that anything ‘bad’ could happen to a young woman in a car alone on a three or four day trip across the country with all of her possessions in her car, including a large television more or less in plain view in the back seat; and nothing bad did happen.
She took me into the fold, made me part of her family. We would take long walks and she would listen to me rattle off incessantly about whoever I was dating at the time – she was patient with me as I painstakingly dissected every conversation and wrung my hands over every nuance of what was said.
She was home.
So I painted her. Tried to convey the strength of my love for her and the power of her courage with the color choices. Most of all I tried to capture the pain in her eyes. The resignation. The fear. And a glimmer of hope in her yellow eyebrows.
It occurred to me long after the painting was done that her eyes were green. Mine are blue.
I had painted my eyes into her face.”
-Art and story by Lisa Valle, 44, from Portland, Oregon
The organic side of a mother and daughter
May 10, 2010
Art by Melissa Garrett (daughter) from Bristol, Tennessee
“My name is Melissa. I have always felt like I was born in the wrong area.
I feel that I would better ‘fit in’ in a large metropolitan area, such as New York or LA. However, I went to a very rural high school in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. It was not out of the ordinary for the students of my high school to wear their overalls and roper boots to school, fully adorned in the cow and horse manure from working on their families’ farms early that morning.
Agriculture and Horticulture were the most popular areas of study at my high school. Old pick-up trucks with a dead deer in the back from the owner’s most recent hunting trip were plenteous. I, on the other hand, did not find this aspect of my area’s culture attractive in the least bit.
Each morning when I got ready for school, unlike the others, I did not think of what would be most comfortable to wear that day. I focused on what was stylish and appealing. I spent much of my time with my fashion magazines. My dream job is to be a fashion stylist of the stars (although I am currently in college to become a nurse).
As my picture describes, I treated the halls of my school like a run-way, modeling the fashionable looks that I put together. I did stand-out from the ‘norm’ of my peers, but I didn’t mind. I love expressing myself through style.”
-Melissa Garrett, 20-years-old
Art by Barbie Garrett (mother) from Bristol, Tennessee
“This is a self-portrait reflecting my vision of who I am. As I was having fun drawing, I was reflecting that this is not how others see me, I think. I started to send a picture of just two green eyes on a white background. I see myself that way sometimes, on the outside looking in. And invisible.
This reflects the parts of me I enjoy. I purposely left out my family, even though that is so much of who I am. And, I purposely left out my faith, which is also much of who I am. This is just a simple ‘look at me’.
I spend much of my time out on the porch, working on my laptop in my porch swing. I am a freelance writer, and this is a lot of who I am. I am the Social Media Examiner for the Knoxville Examiner. I write about many different topics, but it is often cooking and crafts. I am a kitchen gadget addict: I have 3 bread machines and 3 rice cookers.
I am a church organist and a former piano teacher. I do a lot of things, but I usually do them on the front porch in my porch swing.
Obviously, I am a philosopher, and not an artist!”
-Barbie Garrett, 50-years-old
Spring break rat
April 27, 2010
Meet Macedonio
April 25, 2010
“I was a stand-up guy until about a year ago when I was confined to this wheelchair. Now, I do what I used to do but sitting down.”
-Macedonio Garcia from Meadows Place, Texas
Zebra art by Macedonio
Falling tide
April 22, 2010
In ’05, I finally removed myself from a relationship that was becoming increasingly restrictive. That night I moved into my studio and felt so many emotions I didn’t know where to start.
So of course I started painting.
The image is called “Swift current on a falling tide”
Being a west coast girl, I see life in coastal metaphors. I was finally in motion, moving fast into a new phase of my life.
The falling tide refers to the fact that as the tide goes out hidden rocks appear and have to be navigated.
The mask is actually lifted from another painting of mine, but seemed appropriate in that I had put down the perfect woman and wife image and was willing to be messily, grandly, scatteredly, creatively, myself once more.
What a wonderful night that was!
I painted all night and into the dawn and then slept on my studio couch till noon and got up to paint again.
-Art and story by Corinne Paquette-Parker
Beardless Bill
April 12, 2010
“This my first drawing of my new face, so perhaps I look bewildered.
Until six weeks ago I’d had a beard for 25 years; lately it had become a wild beard too. It was due for a trim and I needed £400 to open a temporary homeless shelter. So I decided I’d get some sponsorship for shaving the beard off completely. (In the end I raised £600.)
Shaving the beard came as more of a shock than I had anticipated. Once it was gone I not only had a new face in the mirror but a whole new set of expressions. Ghosts flickered across my reflection: my late father (which was no surprise) and the face of the poet Philip Larkin (which was unexpected).
I’d thought that one of the first things I would do was draw a self portrait but that was impossible because I could see nothing in my new face to get hold of. Even after six weeks it was a confusing business because I had to work entirely to the face in the mirror without any sense that what was appearing on the paper was me.”
-William Saunders from London
Eggs: sunny-side up
April 8, 2010
This adventurous couple brightens my day every time I receive a new creative self-portrait from Miss Rose. Always clever and always playful. Keep ‘em coming!
Check out previous self-portraits from Miss Rose and her partner in crime, NTAG.
A garden portrait
March 24, 2010
“Usually, I am an artist of a different sort: despite the world, I am a poet (if I could define that better, I wouldn’t be one). Still, I have spent some time with drawing and painting, and the bespectacled man within this portrait is my own creation of a character of myself to comment upon my works.
The written word is always around me, and I personally see visions either in words or in the sound of words. It is really rather hard for me to envision something concretely. But to put sounds together, or string together words in an interesting way — that comes quickly, and flows out. Which is why the whole sheet is covered in a scrawl.
I’ve quoted a favorite poet, added some of my own meditations, and that line of books in the background reveals my own shameful ambition. I have picked a canon of poetry, from the Gawain poet to Pound, and placed myself at the end.
To be a poet, I think, is a very difficult task, and in its way is as precise as a Master painting. Each stroke and each layer must lay the right thickness that lets a metaphor emerge without becoming too obvious. My own work(s) are usually an emergence from the underworld, or a grail quest/argonautica. So I added the grail, and I layered a green place I dearly love over a desert waste.
Because, quite honestly, I succumb all too often to a deep and black despair– that human sense of having known Eden once– if one could only remember.
I am not the center of my self portrait. I never could be, because, quite often these days, I seem to change with the act like a simplistic Wilde caricature.
More important than my self, or the objects layered over the garden/desert combination, is the greenery. The central thesis, I suppose, is the ability of renewal of nature, the joy of spring coming into bloom.
My happiest times are well described in Andrew Marvell’s Poem The Garden:
‘Annihilating all that’s made,
To a green thought in a green shade.’
That’s why his book, in the rack behind my head (my influences) is given a Holy star.”
-Art and story by Harrison White of Corvallis, Oregon
Master of all
March 20, 2010
I don’t specialize in one thing. I don’t want to. I lean more towards master of none rather than master of one. Both figures of speech are ill-fitted in the hip and shoulder area. I’m looking for attire that better suits me. Preferably with lace and zebra stripes.
How about Master of All?
Sounds powerful. Sounds like a challenge.
Dream big, and more importantly, do big. Right?
Moving on to March 20th. Today is the first day of spring. It feels fresh – full of kites, cheap beer, burnt hot dogs, and rosy new sunburn. Yearly aspirations should start today rather than the bleak of winter, January 1st.
I am 27 today. Rather than listing the things I want to do this year, I’d rather list the hats I want to wear. It’s open-ended. Direct paths prohibited. Figure it out as you go but just get there.
The Different Hats of The 27-Year-Old Kira:
1. Bee Charmer – It’s been my vision ever since I watched Fried Green Tomatoes.
2. Vixen – I received my first astrology reading from my new friend, Ophira of the Astrotwins. Without revealing details, I apparently have an inner-stripper that is clawing to be unleashed. Hmm…
3. Zebra Philanthropist - Striped cocktail event in the works for May! Hyenas prohibited. Cheetahs will be given case-by-case consideration.
***I assure you that I am picky with my bonnet and beret collection. To prove it, I will share another list.
Beanies Kira Will Not Wear This 27th Year:
1. Troll Collector – Been there, done that.
2. Fire Eater – Maybe next year?
3. Mayonnaise Enthusiast
If you feel inspired on this lovely spring day, please share some of your new seasonal hats.
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly, specialization is for insects.” – Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love
