Seattle Paintings #1: FAIL big and go home

A friend commissioned several paintings to decorate his apartment. As my very first commission, I was nervous to come up with something satisfactory. I took him to a paint store and asked him to pick out a color palette of acrylic paint and canvases, and asked for a list of images he is drawn to. After several months of incubation, planning, trial and error and more error, I came up with seven satisfactory paintings. But, before I get to my successes, I'd like to present a painting that I fondly titled FAIL.

This was my first attempt of the series. It was the first concept that I came up with and since it is the smaller of the two large pieces, I thought I'd get the "easier" one out of the way. Wrong. This painting was the bane of my existence for several months. I was plagued with the frustration of being completely unable to translate my vision to the canvas. Most of my paintings start off as a relatively clear picture in my mind that then transforms and evolves as it comes into being. This one sucked when I started it and sucked when I finished/abandoned it. I attempted concept after concept, a variety of methods, I painted white over entire sections, I took breaks and completed other paintings, I asked several helpful artistic minds for input and I still managed to fail. I lost sleep mulling it over and woke up in the middle of the night with a new brilliant idea that would save my crap painting, which never worked...

Two weeks prior to leaving Seattle, I put FAIL aside, bought a new canvas and cultivated a new frame of mind. Sometimes you just have to know when to say when. If there was a theme for my year in Seattle, I'd say it was giving up. In a good way. I can't fix everything. Sometimes giving up is a perfectly appropriate and acceptable response. I tried to cover up the evidence of what didn't work instead of putting those remains aside for a blank slate with unlimited potential.

When I think about it (don't want to get too philosophical here, but I can't help but make the comparison), my dear FAIL was the physical manifestation of what was happening in several areas of my life. You can only put forth so much effort and invest so much time before you have to take a step back to admit to yourself that it is not working. I'd never given up on a painting before, I'd never given up on a relationship before, and I certainly hadn't taken a second look at the career that I've dedicated a decade and am now veering away from.

I don't know if FAIL ended up in a dumpster or as an eyesore on someone's wall, but either way I am grateful for FAIL for the hell it put me through and how wonderful it felt when I figured my way out of it.

Moral of the story: Fail big. Fail often. Then get a new canvas and create something fantastic.

A Salute to Summer

Summer usually means the following to me: Colorado, mountains, hiking, climbing, swimming, gorgeous cloudless days and cool nights, camping, friends, family and relaxation. This was my first summer in New York City and let me just say that I am thrilled to embrace the fall. NYC can be a pretty nasty place to be during the warmest season. Although this summer was rather mild, so I hear, I can't wait to say goodbye to:
-oppressive humidity!
-everyone sweating literally all the time
-sweltering summer nights that provide no relief from the heat and actually seem hotter than the day
-descending the stairs into subway stations = descending into the pits of hell. that's how hot it is down there.
-subway trains with broken air conditioners
-rainy days that manage to not be refreshing because it's still relentlessly hot!
-garbage baking in the sun on the sidewalks

I did have a few fantastic NYC firsts and summer-specific adventures. Highlights include a sunset cruise around Manhattan, free concerts in various parks, Nathan's 4th of July Hot Dog Eating Contest (68 hotdogs in 10 minutes. Intensely gross and I secretly loved it), the strangeness of Coney Island and the strangeness of the fact that I went there 4 times, lazy Central Park days, zoos and the aquarium, my birthday, a tranny in a bad blonde wig's bad impression of me (totally jealous of my natural locks), cat-sitting for a kitty that drools when she's happy, and the relaxed pace that the City adopts. The City offers endless summer attractions, free entertainment options, street fairs, festivals, restaurant week, etc because without them, this place would be an empty smelly oven.

The view from my summer residence on the Upper West Side of the Hudson and New Jersey.

Manhattan from Brooklyn.

A sailboat, the Hudson, and New Jersey. Taken from the water.

Tim's Brilliance/My Banner

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.

p.s. The pegasus's eye is a googly eye.

Coloring Book Art. Collection #1.

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...

To paint or not to paint: shoes.

Object: A pair of platform cork sandals that the mom's friend bestowed upon me.
Answer: To paint.
Materials: acrylic paint, suitable shoes that are in need of some glam.

Just your average cork platforms become vibrant vintage tattoo vessels for your footsies!

Now if only these shoes weren't hideously uncomfortable to wear...

War of the Roses, origami style

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.

Purse-onal belongings

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.

A concise history...

I grew up here:

(the foothills of Colorado)

with my:
(dad, mom, brother and dog)

I went to college here: (Duke University)

but I don't care about:(basketball)

After college, I spent a year here:(Seattle, WA)

And I recently moved here:(NYC)

What is a Pooky LaRoo?
1. A crafty alias.
2. A combination of the ingenious childhood nicknames given to my brother and I by my dad.


Stay tuned for adventures with: painting, drawing, sewing, embroidering, collages, polymer clay, photography, coloring books, octopus, polka dots, dinosaurs, mismatching socks, etc.