I made It Don't Come Easy last fall for my show at the Birdhouse in November 2011.

I put a lot of things I had been thinking about in this piece. It references my business endeavors that fall under the moniker With Bear Hands, the 100 (well, 99) mason jar paintings I made last year, and also the inclinations I was having at the time to start making abstract paintings.

I wanted to make a painting about the things I've been working toward, the things I've wanted for so long, all the hours spent in my studio and devoted to art, where I want to go from here. I wanted to talk about how chasing a dream (that you can't even see) can feel terribly unnatural, like domesticating a wild animal. And even when things seem to be shaping up around you, how you still might feel the inclination to run off into the wilderness- naked, with no possessions- and never come back.

But making this painting was really enjoyable, and that's the curious thing about art (or maybe any dream). It can feel like it's going to kill you, and at the same time, the act of doing it can ease all amount of frustration.

***

It Don't Come Easy
acrylic on canvas
2011
36" x 30"
$1500

8 x 10 prints of this painting are for sale here.

I've noticed a trend lately in my life. It has come to my attention that over the past year or so, I've been attracting men who can best be described as Honey Badgers.

In the beginning, I'm attracted to their honest personality. They're the kind of person who will say what's on their mind, and it's refreshing. They might be cynical and slightly judgmental, but, truth be told, they say what I'm probably thinking anyway but would never verbalize, and it makes me laugh.

There comes a point, however, when their demeanor takes a turn, and they say something like this:

I don't care what other people think of me. I say what I want, and if people don't like it, screw them. They can quit hanging out with me if they don't like me.

I'm not lying, about four guys have expressed this exact sentiment to me over the past year or so. The first time I heard someone say it, I thought, "Wow. How cool. I wish I had that kind of confidence." By now, however, the novelty has worn off, and I realize the fine line between honesty and tact.

The last time a guy said this to me was a couple of weeks ago, and his face morphed into a Honey Badger's as he said, "... I don't care anymore. I don't give a shit..."

It was awesome.

So I've been thinking about it a lot lately, asking myself some questions like:

If they don't care what other people think, am I foolish to believe they care what I think?  
How am I attracting these men when I actually do care deeply about what others think? 
Did something happen to them that made them this way?  
Were they born Honey Badgers? 

I like psychoanalyzing people, and men with the Honey Badger Syndrome have proved to be the most intriguing. You know what my research in the field has found? Do you know what they all have in common?

Each had something traumatic happen to them- a heart-wrenching break-up with a girl they were madly in love with, the death of a close family member, abuse.

I'm no psychiatrist, but if I had to put two and two together, I'd say their not giving a shit was all a ruse. Instead of showing grief or sorrow, they decided to become apathetic in order to cope with something they couldn't control- abandonment, love lost, whether romantic or familial. Their "revenge" for what they could not change became not caring.

To prove this theory even further, it makes sense for me personally because I've always been one of those dumb girls who likes to take care of broken men. I've never understood how, but nurturing females will always find the wounded male, and vice versa. It's as if we have a magnetic pull that draws us to one other. It's a catastrophic recipe, but for a time, the Honey Badger finds someone to love him, to take his mind off his hurt. It doesn't take long, however, for him to become restless, to remind himself that he doesn't give a shit, and off he wanders to lick his wounds or find someone else to love him for a little while. 

Whether my theory is correct or not, it's helped me deal with the fact that the Honey Badger can't be mine. I still give a shit for him, I hope the best for him (always), but it's easier to let him go.

Hopefully the next time one saunters across my path, I'll have the gumption to resist him all together, no matter how much watching him tear the head off of a cobra makes me (devilishly) laugh.

This is the second post in the series Single and Ready to Eat Pringles.

The arrival and departure of Valentine's Day has gotten me thinking about love which in turn has inspired me to begin a series on the subject that I will call Single and Ready to Eat Pringles*.

God forbid it ever happen, but if you were to climb into my brain for a day, you'd find that love is a popular subject there- falling in love, love lost, heartache, being single (in the South), the dating scene (in Knoxville... yikes.), being mildly boy crazy, falling for crazy boys, wondering if I'm supposed to say "men" instead of "boys" because they are men now, aren't they? That's a good question.

In my daydreams, I imagine being a legitimate writer on the subject. I have a lot of material, lots to laugh about, lots of experience in heartache, lots of wisdom gained. It's all too personal though and, despite the rising level of ridiculousness on social media sites, I think most of what happens between two people that love one another should be kept secret, sacred.

Then again, if and when I meet the man of my dreams, it might be fun to try and make someone want to throw up a little when they read my Facebook statuses. At least for a day or two!

Anyway, I don't know where this is heading, but I'd like to begin with some love-themed comics because, you know, I like comics. 

A different kind of love. Awww.

*I really did come up with this title one day on my own, but a Google search proved I'm not the only one with a witty (/dumb) sense of humor.

...I get to pretend like I'm a real writer.

I wrote the article below about the Salvage Program I manage for Knox Heritage. It came out in this month's Everything Knoxville Magazine.

If you want to take the trouble to read it, you can click on the image below, then-right click on the new image, choose "open image in a new tab", then click on that image to zoom in. (I know. It's all too much.)

All this is to say, you should come over to the Salvage Room. I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty.

I didn't write last week (breaking one of my two rules) because I was in Memphis for an opening Thursday evening. I apologize for my indiscretion.



I was pretty nervous about having my first show in Memphis. It helped that Otherlands is a laid back atmosphere, but I don't know, anything new makes me flustered; I morph into a deer in headlights.

But everything went well and lots of people came, even people I hadn't seen in over a decade! It was great. There was lots of wine and great food my sweet mother brought.

Sidenote: Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I usually have pretty awesome food at my openings; it's just not something worth missing if you're ever in the same city. Maybe word has spread because I think a couple of people just came for the food. Boy, were they happy.

Anyway, openings are exhausting and strange, but I've warmed up to them over time. They used to put me in a strange place, pushing me into hyper-reclusive mode for a few days after. I would also become really sensitive after shows.

Now, when the end comes, I say, "Let's go have a beer," and typically feel happy, relieved. Maybe I'm becoming less introverted, it's hard to tell.



This show in Memphis is a step in the right direction. I've been wanting to have a show in a city other than Knoxville for a long time, and it finally happened. It's been hard to make contacts or nail down dates in other cities. Nashville is giving me fits. People won't tell me yes or no, or some say yes, but nothing is set in stone.

I did just find out I've been accepted to show work at the Tomato Head in Market Square and Maryville sometime between July and January. I'm also so excited that 17th Street Studios (the studios I co-manage) is having our first group show on May 4th at the Fluorescent Gallery in Knoxville. Mark your calendars.

So I have some deadlines to get my blood flowing a little faster.



I'd like to share my artist statement from my show at Otherlands. I used a short statement from my show in November and built on it.

It's hard to write about my work in such detail. I've gotten used to being incredibly concise, but elaborating on what I'm doing is helping me learn why it is I'm making what I'm making, something that has been cloudy for a while.

Golden Friends

So here it is, imperfect in it's ability to convey everything I'd like, but close enough for now:

I think about my childhood a lot, especially when I'm driving around at night. I am intrigued by how strongly we are connected to memories from our past. I think about the similarities between being young and being an adult, how we are subject to struggles outside of our control no matter how old we are, and how there is never a time where we are free from pain or heartache.

These paintings are imagined narratives based on personal experience. Many are inspired by people I know or places I've seen, and most were made to cope with difficult situations I've encountered. I use setting, space, and figures to convey a somber and quiet emotional state. Some are empty and some show a degree of pain or discomfort.

There are elements that run in and out of each painting that are a result of being fascinated with certain things- women's fashion, modern design, historic architecture, children’s books. I am also inspired by certain music and films and really (really) like animals. I integrate these mild obsessions into my paintings to add humor, beauty, even innocence.

As a whole, most of these paintings are both lighthearted and heavy to reflect the pain and joy we experience simultaneously throughout a lifetime.

...no, not even close, but I did screenprint for the first time today in six years. I suck at it! but am also really excited. It's so repetitive, it will be easy to improve quickly.

I used a little Speedball Kit I got a couple of years ago. I've had the screen ready for about six months, and today, I did my first run.



All I can say is that the unfamiliar is really daunting to me. I am really fearful of things I don't know how to do naturally (Oh, wait. That's everything.). I learned screenprinting at UT, but doing it on my own always seemed like too much.

Good thing I realized today it's super easy.

There's a moral to this story somewhere.



Can you guess who my inspiration is for this print? I'll give you a hint: she's adorable.

I lost this one for a long time, and then it found me.

When I first heard Greek Song by Rufus Wainwright, it gave me the mental image of frolicking through a field holding some sort of billowy fabric... or a ribbon dancer. Since then, I gauge how good a song makes me feel depending on how much it invokes that same feeling.

It's just really nice to know Régine Chassagne and I think similarly.