News for the ‘Daily’ Category

sammy

mini-comic: we’re tired

Yes­ter­day John, Jenna, and I went on a field trip to Ft. Collins to have brunch at the Rain­bow Cafe and visit the Alley Cat. At the Alley Cat we all got so, so sleepy and I was wor­ried I would pass out in a food coma in the booth. I decided to make a lit­tle mini-comic about it in my mole­sk­ine (co-written with J & J).

Later we went to see Prometheus in Love­land (I give it a B-) and when the movie let out it was rain­ing intensely. It turned out the high­way was flooded and we ended up hav­ing to drive back to Erie on County Road 1.

All in all I real­ize this is not a super excit­ing story, but hey! We were tired! It was fun!

Posted: July 8th, 2012
Categories: comics, Daily
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A Personal History of Fire

here i came to the very edge where noth­ing at all needs say­ing… and every day on the bal­cony of the sea open fire is born and every­thing is blue again like morning”

— Pablo Neruda

Bee Eff Eff Day

Yes­ter­day Mer, J, and I went on a photo expe­di­tion. We also ate brunch at City O City, saw the Yves Saint Lau­rent show at the DAM, had snacks at Sput­nik, went to the Book Empo­rium clos­ing and got a mil­lion mag­a­zines for art projects for 50¢ each, shopped for plants, got a tiny stone don­key, had deli­cious Mex­i­can food at some ran­dom place on far east Col­fax, and chased some geese in City Park. It was a most won­der­ful day with my BFFs.

I was shoot­ing with my Lens­Baby and am fairly excited about some of these pics. I did some of the color cor­rect­ing with Rad­Lab, which I now need to save my pen­nies for because it is SO awe­some for Lens­Baby stuff. I have con­stant prob­lems with under­ex­po­sure with this lens and every­thing is always a bit too blue so pro­cess­ing is always time inten­sive. Rad­Lab made it so much less pain­less. Yay!

Okay, now pics:

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Posted: May 20th, 2012
Categories: Daily
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Bad Carpet

When I draw I sit in a spe­cific place in my liv­ing room: against the loveseat on the floor. I just noticed the spot is turn­ing blue from my jeans. Can you see it in this photo?

20120427-191809.jpg

Posted: April 27th, 2012
Categories: comics, Daily, making
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The adventures of Monchichi

Exper­i­ments with draw­ing this morning’s adven­tures on my pie pad.

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Posted: March 3rd, 2012
Categories: comics, Daily
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Why? Why? Why?

there were blurry photos

What it’s like to not understand sarcasm

It’s unfor­tu­nate, but I don’t have a sar­casm detec­tor and take the world very literally/at face value. I there­fore spend many of my days feel­ing like the humor­less fem­i­nist stereo­type. Be nice to peo­ple like me, please!

Posted: February 17th, 2012
Categories: comics, Daily
Tags: , , , , ,
Comments: 1 Comment.

The Many-Coated Man

bitchface

Um so even though I just turned 32 and am prob­a­bly tech­ni­cally too old, I totally love to read Tavi at style rookie and her new project, Rookie, a sort of Sassy-esque* online mag for teenagers.The Octo­ber issue had a DIY sec­tion on how to bitch­face, and I decided to try it out for myself. Here are my results.

The Una­mused

Note that I am not sure my glasses are com­pat­i­ble with bitch­face. Also I couldn’t stop laugh­ing on this pose. I appar­ently have trou­ble keep­ing a straight/bored face.

Lit­tle Miss Muriel Kitty gave it a try, too.

The Repulsed

I sort of just look angry. Also, I have trou­ble with inde­pen­dent con­trol over my eye­brows. This one was def­i­nitely the most chal­leng­ing. I’m also not sure I have mas­tered the smize.

The “Is Any­one Else Hear­ing This”

I pretty much rocked this one.

The “Really??”

Some Bitch­face With Hands Poses

I do think the hands add some believ­abil­ity for those of us who don’t have a lot of facial control.

This next oh-so-attractive photo was inspired by my first cre­ative direc­tor Kent, who used to make this face in meetings.

Welp, that’s about it! I rate myself a 6.4 at bitch­face. I’d bet­ter keep practicing.

*It should be noted that I was never a Sassy reader. I’m not sure why — maybe I was a wee bit young? I did read Sev­en­teen which was mostly deplorable but occa­sion­ally had arti­cles about Drew Bar­ry­more, who I was obsessed with.

Posted: November 10th, 2011
Categories: Daily
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Comments: 2 Comments.

Muriel, Keeper of the Feather Toy

Muriel has a pink toy with a bell that she car­ries around the house. Once it was long like a feather boa but now it is a fluffy stub.

Posted: October 17th, 2011
Categories: comics, Daily
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Comments: 1 Comment.

Monchichi, Defender of the Shower

Monchichi likes to sit out­side the shower on the bath mat. She is the Defender of the Shower.

Posted: October 16th, 2011
Categories: comics, Daily
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Comments: 1 Comment.

i walked 4 miles to the library and there was a lot to look at

i dreamed this: conspiracy in haiti

the tv in the background is playing i wear my sunglasses at night

And I am cur­rently pro­cras­ti­nat­ing at pack­ing up our final stuff for Burn­ing Man (I’ve bro­ken the fam­ily pat­tern of pack­ing neu­roti­cism), drink­ing beer that was made by Sethotron, and eat­ing grilled cheese sam­miches made with bacon and heir­loom toma­toes (yum), and kind of just kind of a lit­tle tiny lot bit freak­ing out about leav­ing for Burn­ing Man in the morning.

I’m putting on my ethno­g­ra­pher hat (er, in this case a pink tur­ban — no, really! I have unfem­i­nisty hair to pro­tect!) and I’ll report back in a week, hope­fully with some pics of me wear­ing a tutu and cov­ered in playa dust. God­speed us Black Rock City!

Posted: August 30th, 2011
Categories: Daily
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is my hair un-feminist?

[I wrote this a lit­tle while ago so the days are off. I have been scared to post it, because I don’t know if I have made my point ____ enough…]

Exactly 29 days from today, I will be board­ing an air­plane with J to fly to Reno for our first ever trip to Burn­ing Man.

Exactly 25 days ago, I got a head full of human hair exten­sions from my oh-so-very gen­er­ous styl­ist, who offered them at cost* because she is build­ing her portfolio.

Jenna and I once had a con­ver­sa­tion about how we have “librar­ian hair”. I don’t mean this as a knock to any of my awe­some librar­ian friends, some of whom prob­a­bly have incred­i­ble hair that belongs in the cat­e­gory we labeled “fer­tile”, but really we meant this as a joke to say that our hair is thin, unruly, and in my case, con­stantly frizzy (clearly with such frumpy hair it is amaz­ing that I have got­ten so far in life). In real­ity I was sim­ply not blessed in the hair gene depart­ment (I blame Grandma, but the trade­off was that I got her long neck so I think it’s fair). So any­ways, my styl­ist offered exten­sions, I jumped at the chance, and voilà, my hair grew 10 inches overnight and is now the longest it has ever been.

There are all kinds of con­sid­er­a­tions to keep in mind when it comes to human hair extensions.

One is where the hair comes from. My exten­sions are made from what they call tem­ple hair, which is gath­ered from women in India who par­tic­i­pate in a rit­ual called ton­sur­ing to show devo­tion to god. I will admit that I did not read much about tem­ple hair before I under­went this process other than to read the exten­sion company’s web­site, which claimed that the prof­its from tem­ple hair sales go to local schools, hos­pi­tals, and orphan­ages. As it turns out, the prac­tice is far more controversial/questionable than all that, and I can truly say that I am uncom­fort­able to be par­tic­i­pat­ing in the tem­ple hair indus­try and likely won’t ever do it again.**

Another impor­tant con­sid­er­a­tion for wear­ing hair exten­sions is the amount of main­te­nance required. I now have to brush my hair 3 times a day with a spe­cial boar bris­tle brush (lest it get mat­ted in the bonds) and I have to use spe­cial sham­poo and can’t wash every day (the no poo move­ment would tell you that’s a good idea any­way). To look like I did when I left the salon with silky straight hair, I also need to blowdry and straighten and use a lot of expen­sive “prod­uct” (not usu­ally part of my daily rou­tine thank you very much).

I feel like the hotness!

I have a com­pli­cated rela­tion­ship with beauty rit­u­als. Let’s just say that the ver­sion of me in the above pic­ture is a ver­sion of me in drag. The high-femme me who wears sparkly makeup includ­ing blush and eye­shadow, paints my nails, car­ries a trendy-looking purse and wears high-heel shoes (well, not so much any­more because the stairs at work are treach­er­ous) is totally play­ing with the idea of a fluid iden­tity that I can put on and take off as I please, a cos­tume. (But, I have been think­ing about how this self-described ver­sion of “being drag” sub­scribes to the notion of what is pretty and a socially accept­able self-presentation of my gen­der. And maybe it’s a just “pretty mask” that I get to put on as pro­tec­tion against the world. Y’know, like that Crass song called Real­ity White­wash. What­ever. I just wanted to ref­er­ence Crass twice in a row.)

Back to Burn­ing Man. I will soon be spend­ing five days in Black Rock City, a highly alka­line pre­his­toric lake bed desert envi­ron­ment where white­out dust storms are com­mon. The playa is not kind to hair, and I am try­ing to fig­ure out how that all works now that I have elected to take part in this oh-so-high-maintenance world of hair exten­sions. Accord­ing to a vari­ety of posts on the eplaya boards such as this one, since I have “high-profile” hair I should prob­a­bly shave my head before I go, or plan to spend hun­dreds of dol­lars build­ing a playashower,*** or plan to come back with dreads. Or not even go because I’m a “high main­te­nance sparkle pony”.

(Hm. Love those kinds of assump­tions about peo­ple who pay atten­tion to their hair. Cause it’s just so much more shal­low than this or this, which are admit­tedly cool but no less sparkle­pony. And what’s wrong with ponies any­way? I love ponies!)

I bought you a sparkle pony  but I eated it

The real­ity is that I am not really wor­ried about the idea of not show­er­ing for 5 days and get­ting dirty and uncom­fort­able but I *do* work in a pro­fes­sional field and like it or not, there are cer­tain stan­dards of upkeep that I have to main­tain. Exten­sions aren’t one of them, but dan­git a lot of blood, sweat, & tears have gone into this vir­gin hair from the devel­op­ing world that is cur­rently glued to my head and I feel guilty enough about hav­ing it already and I don’t really want to come back with my exten­sions mat­ted to my skull. I want to have my cake (go to Burn­ing Man) and eat it, too (not come across as too much of a hip­pie to be taken seriously/professionally).

Today I was at the cof­fee shop across the street from work and these two crusty/gutter punk girls came in, set down their packs in one of the booths, and ordered crois­sants with egg and cheese. One girl had bleached out dreads with shaved sides and furry pits and really dirty legs. She bought break­fast for the other girl who had blonde, clean, spiky hair and seemed a bit self-conscious when she ordered (“I don’t know what to get, uh, I’ll have what she’s hav­ing,” she said. “I have 15 dol­lars” said the first girl, “you can get what­ever.”). There were two guys in line star­ing at the hair on these girls’ legs. I found myself con­struct­ing a nar­ra­tive in my head about these girls based on their hair (one butch/strong/savvy, the other femme/vulnerable/naive).

I don’t think the gut­ter­punk look would go over very well in the office but it has appeal. I know it comes across as very unkempt but it is so delib­er­ately and care­fully put together.

When I was in col­lege I dyed my hair green, then pink, and then had my friend Regina cut it all off for $5. She lis­tened to Le Tigre while she cut it and her room­mates talked about mak­ing a vegan din­ner for the house. My short hair sig­ni­fied babyfem­i­nist. When I turned 30 I had a cri­sis and cut it off again; I then hated it because I felt**** like a soc­cer mom or female politi­cian, where you can’t have long hair as you age.

I’m so tired of women’s hair as a politi­cized space, espe­cially when it is politi­cized by other women. It’s a lose/lose sit­u­a­tion when women silently or not-so-silently judge the appear­ance of other women and what their coifs sig­nify: the play­ers on both sides of the equa­tion are never ____ enough. (Fill in the blank — fem­i­nist, nat­ural, cool, pretty, fem­i­nine, butch, tra­di­tional, fer­tile, healthy, well-kempt, etc etc etc).

It’s enough to make me want to shave my head. But you know what *that* will mean… ::eyeroll::

*For those of you who don’t know, get­ting exten­sions put in takes 6–7 hours of labor.

**This is not the first time I have pur­chased human hair, though. When I was work­ing on my New Col­lege the­sis I had friends donate their hair and teeth for use in sculp­tures and paint­ings, but I also pur­chased at least one blonde pony­tail on eBay. I think at the time (2001) it was mar­keted for cre­at­ing dolls and I don’t really know the ori­gin. Here’s what I wrote about using hair as a mate­r­ial for art at the time:

The Func­tion of Bod­ily Materials

Mate­ri­als layer one’s work with mean­ing.  I have become increas­ingly con­cerned with mate­ri­als in my devel­op­ment as an artist, find­ing myself drawn towards that which is organic and from the body.  I am able to say more with a piece of horse­hide or a vial of spit and hair than would be ever pos­si­ble with line, form, color, and word.  My choice of mate­ri­als war­rants dis­cus­sion here, although to essen­tial­ize the way any one par­tic­u­lar mate­r­ial func­tions in my work would be to triv­i­al­ize that material’s power for lay­er­ing and transcendence.

I am attracted to horse­hide, leather, hair, and glue because they embody the horse.  The rela­tion­ship between these mate­ri­als and the ani­mal is both one-to-one and more than one-to-one, the part stand­ing for both the whole and much more than the whole.  A piece of hide rep­re­sents the horse as a phys­i­cal object, rep­re­sents the spe­cific horse it once cov­ered, rep­re­sents the fact that it “once cov­ered” (past tense, sig­ni­fy­ing the lack of horse present and simul­ta­ne­ously the pres­ence of the horse in spirit), and rep­re­sents the process of death (a tem­po­ral event involv­ing the pas­sage from one phys­i­cal form to another).  The pres­ence of hide, leather, hair, and glue in my work makes phys­i­cal that which is not – death, time, and decay.  The metonymic rela­tion­ship of these mate­ri­als to the ani­mals they once were is espe­cially sig­nif­i­cant.  Susan Stew­art points out that “the pos­ses­sion of the metonymic object is a kind of dis­pos­ses­sion in that the pres­ence of the object all the more rad­i­cally speaks to its sta­tus as a mere sub­sti­tu­tion and to its sub­se­quent dis­tance from the self.”[i]  The inher­ent com­ing apart, sep­a­ra­tion, or frag­men­ta­tion in a rela­tion­ship between part and whole rep­re­sents con­cep­tu­ally the phys­i­cal­i­ties of death and decay; when I cut into the pieces of horse myself, I dou­ble and explode these lay­ers of mean­ing.  Other mate­ri­als such as human hair, blood, fin­ger­nails, spit, claws, teeth, and bones can sim­i­larly evoke the com­ing apart or frag­men­ta­tion of bod­ies.  As sou­venirs of the mor­tal body, they mark death and “the end of the sacred nar­ra­tive.”[ii]  Although such mate­ri­als may not sig­nify directly on horses, they can aug­ment, com­ple­ment, and stand in for mate­ri­als which are harder to come by.  The inclu­sion of these ele­ments in my work also plays on the blur­ring of bound­aries between artist (human, self) and sub­ject (horse).


[i] Stew­art 135.

[ii] Stew­art 140.

 ***No grey­wa­ter dump­ing on the playa please! It’s a leave-no-trace kind of event.

****This is not the first time I have writ­ten about hair here. Note the ponies.

Posted: August 14th, 2011
Categories: Daily
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A new kind of plane

Some­times I have really crazy dreams, and my dream last night was super-duper extra blog-worthy.

I was com­ing back from Boston with my mom, and she wasn’t pay­ing atten­tion to when we needed to be there, so we got to the gate at 3:10 for a 3:05 flight. But they were wait­ing for us and call­ing my name and we got on board. Then my mom wasn’t there any­more but John was.

The plane was a spe­cial new model of plane made by a com­pany called SPI or some­thing like that. It was amaz­ing! You walked in and there was a gar­den patio area with foun­tains and a bunch of peo­ple loung­ing by the pool and hot tub. Then when you walked fur­ther in you were in an area with white plas­tic the­ater seat­ing, and neon lights above your head. There was a plas­tic bench area behind me where I could throw my bag. The flight was really empty and there was another cou­ple near us but they went to walk around so we had it all to ourselves.

Then John went explor­ing. As you walked fur­ther back into the plane, it started to sim­u­late nature and there was a wooded area with a path. Then it started to snow (fake snow) which was really cool. We went back to our seats and decided to watch out the win­dows for a while — the plane had big pic­ture win­dow sides made of glass so you had quite the view. All of a sud­den we were fly­ing through the grand canyon, and the canyon walls were TY*5tttttt <– Muriel typed that right there in front of me!

Toward the end of the flight we lined up in this amuse­ment park kind of line with rail­ings. This part is hard to describe but the rail­ings were one way, and then they mor­phed to another shape (the shape of rail­ings for the Den­ver ligh­trail ??) to sig­nal that we were land­ing in Den­ver. Then as we were get­ting off the plane the rail­ings started to col­lect snow, and as you put your hand on them the snow would melt away, but it was all fake because the rail­ings were made of video screens.

I think Boe­ing and Air­bus need to take note of their new com­pe­ti­tion in air­plane design.

There was some other stuff such as set­ting up an office in a big suite at a fancy hotel and we were mov­ing all the art around (sculp­tures of Bud­dha and Santa and cow­boys) and some­thing broke and we were going to get charged a room ser­vice fee, which Car­rie would have objected to on my expense report. also we were in Florida try­ing to get to the Hal­loween PCP at New Col­lege but we kept get­ting dis­tracted and it was very late and we were going to miss the dance party.

The end.

Posted: August 13th, 2011
Categories: Daily
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people are scared to say hello is a line from a subhumans song

A few weeks ago I was meet­ing a friend after work and since I knew I would have an hour to kill I thought I’d stop into Wax­Trax, which is a few blocks away from her new apart­ment. I hadn’t been there in ages and ages (because who buys CDs any­more?). I think this was slightly before I fin­ished my zine so I had it in the back of my head that maybe they still had a bin of zines I could poke thru while I was waiting.

Den­ver has been hav­ing these crazy rains this sum­mer where the sky just opens up and floods down. One of these rains hap­pened the minute that I stepped in the store, an intense bar­rage of water. I didn’t see any zines — well, there were like 2 or 3 on a mag­a­zine rack thing, along with a book called The Rest is Pro­pa­ganda by Steve Igno­rant of Crass.

Now, I had coin­ci­den­tally just lis­tened to Crass a few days pre­vi­ously and given that I was clearly going to be stuck in the store for a while due to the rain, I thought it would be polite to buy some­thing. So I picked up the book, and I wan­dered around the store for a while, and I left with it and a copy of the How to Destroy Angels album (lit­er­ally the first CD I have bought since around 2004 or 5).

The book is really great and it turns out that Steve Igno­rant is a really good writer. Though I was once real­lyre­al­lyre­ally into anar­chop­unk music I really never knew the story behind Crass, and how they formed out of the Dial House in Essex out­side of Lon­don. I have been really intrigued to read about the cul­ture sur­round­ing that place and time because it is just so dif­fer­ent than my life is now (or ever was) and even though I still really love Crass I can now as an adult see how I was never, ever really a punk (cos, y’know, punk is dead). I mean for chris­sakes I grew up in the Val­ley. Any­ways there’s all this stuff about squats and other inten­tional com­mu­ni­ties, which I find really fas­ci­nat­ing and I really want to do some more read­ing on this topic.

And hon­estly my life is so so so far removed from any of that that it’s not even funny. I live in a lit­tle sub­ur­ban sub­di­vi­sion plopped down in an old coal min­ing and farm­ing area. The clos­est thing to squat­ting here is the fact that my county has a high fore­clo­sure rate and also a high meth rate and one might imag­ine that the two lead to occa­sional ille­gal aban­doned house occu­pa­tion. And the lack of com­mu­nity here is notable. We’re one of the younger fam­i­lies in the neigh­bor­hood, and most every­one is either retired or has kids. Lots of stay-at-home moms and SUVs. I don’t see a lot of evi­dence of peo­ple with left lean­ing pol­i­tics and I do see a lot of evi­dence of peo­ple who go to church. On one side of me are neigh­bors that I have lit­er­ally seen less than 10 times in the 3 years we’ve lived here. The other side used to be a guy who worked in IT and was out of the coun­try 3 weeks out of every 4. Across the street is a fam­ily with teenagers who once watched Mr. Kitty when we were out of town but they don’t really talk to us. There is a fam­ily down the street that sells us girl scout cook­ies and we wave and are friendly when we walk by their house to the mail­box, but that’s about it in terms of pur­pose­ful con­nec­tion with any­one in my imme­di­ate res­i­den­tial vicinity.

Why is that? I *do* like my home and I *do* like the area we live in and I really *am* a died-in-the-wool sub­ur­ban­ite with a fond­ness for rural farm­land and no desire to ever live in an apart­ment or city, but at the same time I have sit­u­ated my life so that it is very iso­lated from other peo­ple. I can gen­er­al­ize about how I prob­a­bly wouldn’t like any of my neigh­bors (see above) but the real­ity is that I’m kind of anti-social and priv­i­leged to be able to live in my own single-family home and while I some­times bemoan the lack of any kind of com­mu­nity in my life I know it’s com­pletely my own fault.

The IT guy was relo­cated this spring and a fam­ily recently moved in next door. They are an extended Indian fam­ily (grand­par­ents, par­ents, kid) and at first I was annoyed because they have a lot of cars and one was parked pretty closed to our dri­ve­way, which I am not used to. I know I was being a brat about it so I felt bad and promised myself that I would intro­duce myself. I kind of waved at the grand­fa­ther on my way to work once (he sits on the porch a lot). The grand­mother plays out in the front yard every evening with the lit­tle girl (who is super cute) and they both said hi when I was walk­ing in with gro­ceries the other night.

Tonight I was tak­ing out the com­post and on my way back in the grand­mother and lit­tle girl were wait­ing on the wall between our houses to say hi. She doesn’t speak much Eng­lish but she seems really friendly and nice and eager to meet the neigh­bors. Of course! They have pos­si­bly been mak­ing them­selves extremely vis­i­ble in the front yard as a way to intro­duce them­selves to the community.

Is there any hope that my sub­ur­bia could be a lit­tle less of an unin­ten­tional clus­ter of recluses and a lit­tle more of an inten­tional com­mu­nity? I mean, I have every inten­tion of get­ting to know the new fam­ily but the real­ity is that I don’t have high hopes of sud­denly hav­ing drop in art nights and band prac­tices in people’s garages and col­lab­o­ra­tive gar­dens and stuff like that. We’re still going to be younger than the peo­ple around us by 10+ years. I’m still a bit of a recluse. I still have a bit of a chip on my shoul­der with regards to fit­ting in with any­one. It feels like an unsolv­able dilemma. Maybe in 10 years we will have our own ver­sion of the Dial House on Jasper Road and we will have some don­keys and some goats and a big gar­den and com­mu­nity din­ners with heather & miles. But I think there is a per­son­al­ity prob­lem I have to work on to get there.

Posted: July 24th, 2011
Categories: Daily
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Halllloooooo

Is there any­body out there? Should I keep writ­ing in this thing? Or should I hiber­nate for the winter?

F. Bickerton looking out over seas near Commonwealth Bay

Posted: December 4th, 2010
Categories: Daily
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