I have a friend who is insanely talented. For my birthday, he sent me this painting all the way from Telluride, CO. The chick in the lower left hand corner is me (looks exactly like me). It is this painting from which I have created my banner.
Tim Johnson is brilliant. Seriously. And he is one of my favorite human beings.
I'm starting a movement. A Revolution. For those of you who scoff at calling coloring art, I beg to differ. Thesis:coloring books may be considered art if your contribution to the image is significant.Now, what does "significant" entail? I consider significant to mean that you have contributed a bare minimum equivalent of what the original artist created in terms of design. So, the original artist creates a dinosaur, and I create a skin pattern for the dinosaur that creates an entirely new dino! For instance, in the brachiosaurus picture below, the original artist would have had to draw every single stripe and line that I colored on those two dinos. I transformed his image. (And just you wait, even greater transformations are yet to come.) True, it is not entirely original art. I believe that coloring books provide an excellent basis for greater artistic exploration. Plus, they're just stinkin fun.
Now, feast your eyes on these babies.
Collection #1: Unaltered Pictures. Required Materials: Crayola markers. Dover Thrift coloring book. Too much time on my hands. Brilliance.
Art Deco dinos:
Brachiosauri. I wish I had pants that look like these guys. This guy was created on the subway from Manhattan to Coney Island. Paisleysaurus.
p.s. Stay tuned. The best of my revolutionary dino coloring book art is yet to come...
As a thoughtful and creative gesture for my castmates of a play I was in, I decided to whip up some cute cheap origami roses for closing weekend. My budget didn't allow for real flowers and considering my relatively high level of craft proficiency, I thought I'd bang 'em out in no time. Wrong. So painfully wrong.
Let me start by saying that I have no background in origami other than the ability to create a mediocre crane. I underwent roughly 4 hours of struggling to decipher numerous pictures, youtube videos, and written instructions, not to mention a hefty stack of origami paper before the first semblence of a rose emerged. I will admit to a tantrum or two. I mean, those stupid little colorful squares of paper mocked me in their unwillingness to to transform into a fabulously elegant 3D rose... My very own war of the roses. The floor surrounding my couch was littered with the crumpled remains of the roses that weren't strong enough to make it.
By the end of two days and many hours, I managed my first rose. Albeit it was the worst looking rose I've ever seen and resembled a crumpled ball of paper much more than a flower, I was ecstatic. Until I realized that I had to create a minimum of 19 more roses... Luckily I quickly got the hang of it and now I am happy to report that I am a rose master. My castmates were grateful.
In the afterglow of my rose mastery, a few weeks later I thought I'd give origami another try upon finding a few particularly intriguing books at the library. I quickly realized that origami is insanely frustrating and that I kind of hate it. I gave up in 15 minutes this time. Never again....
p.s. I created the melted record bowl that this crop of lovely roses is residing in.
I designed this bugger to carry my various crap around to various locations. It's made with various hand-me-down fabrics from a ridiculously generous friend. The skull embroidery is from Jenny Hart's marvelous Stitch-It Kit, and the blue polka-dot square is a pocket. Although difficult to tell from the picture, the bottom of the bag is gusseted and the top zips shut with a sassy red zipper. The inside of the bag is fully lined with recycled fabric from a pair of pants, with two pockets.