^Only half accurate. Sally Bowles put it in such perfect words, I couldn't bring myself to ruin the quote by removing the seduction part.
So I've been to 3 parties in 2 days: a birthday bar jam, a tea-party-themed bridal shower and a goodbye party thinly disguised as a staff bowling night. Probably best that we didn't actually wind up going bowling, as I was still dressed to the bridal shower nines, in silver jeweled wedges, a watercolour dress and faux pearls of Wilma Flintstone proportions. I had gym socks in my glitter clutch though, ready to bust a bowling move in some rented shoes. Instead I got to eat a chorizo burrito and go for ice cream after, so I am a happy camper.
Two more parties on this week's agenda, and one of them is my art opening! To change quote-gears and move over to Austin Powers, "It's my happening, baby, and it's freaking me out!" I've been fretting, typing up stuff, painting and yes, darlings, I have indeed been shellacking (a non-toxic product, lord knows I get loopy when using products with fumes. The time I introduced myself as Janet Rino to a ceiling support column in the Art Room AND the time I announced that I was a goldfish who was feeling "grey" were both occurences involving artsy toxins such as hi-gloss spray varnish and rubber cement).
My eyes do feel googly at the moment, but i suspect that's more from tiredness and heat than any fumes.
Going to the fake beach with my friend tomorrow after tackling a mountain of tasks at kinkos in the morning!
*Sequin*
Showing posts with label painting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label painting. Show all posts
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
go hang a salami im a lasagna hog
I haven't posted almost all month, which is rediculous!
Whenever I buy salami, I make the false promise to myself that I am not going to eat the whole package at one time. I just ate half the package, and am about to go to sleep. My mom has always told me not to eat cheese or sausage-like meats before bed, because you will have strange dreams. I always have strange dreams, so I figure, why not eat what I want? Also, I had a Perrier and a very onion-heavy salad, but I don't know if that makes a difference. Clearly from this information, you can tell I am quite accustomed to being the only person sleeping in my bed.
This brings me to a bit of a sore point, wherein I feel it only honest to include in this, my online life-account, that I am on the verge of quitting the online dating fiasco. Perhaps as someone who works very very full time, I was under the impression that online match-seeking was giving me an opportunity to meet people when I don't have the time or money to go out all the time, and I tend to get a little freaked out when event venues are really crowded. But all that online dating has done for me thus far has been stress me out and cause me to mentally peck at myself when trying to decode interactions with the live versions of my "matches", so look out 'cause I'm throwing a towel.
We don't have AC at my house, so we are all pretty much sweaty beasts. My cat, who usually only deigns to sleep on cushioned surfaces, has taken to chilling out on the floor. I plan on getting a fan this week.
I'm hanging my art show on MONDAY! aaaaah, I feel kind of unprepared, but in reality I am not. I keep starting new paintings, which might be counterproductive to the idea of finishing the other pieces that I have going, but it just pours out of me. Sunday I plan to be completely MIA, deep in art mode and definitely covered in paint.
Stressed and sweaty, I feel very unimpressed by this post, however, Frauline C says she misses reading my blog on her overnight shifts, and I wanted to at least get my salami obsession into cyberspace to amuse her.
Whenever I buy salami, I make the false promise to myself that I am not going to eat the whole package at one time. I just ate half the package, and am about to go to sleep. My mom has always told me not to eat cheese or sausage-like meats before bed, because you will have strange dreams. I always have strange dreams, so I figure, why not eat what I want? Also, I had a Perrier and a very onion-heavy salad, but I don't know if that makes a difference. Clearly from this information, you can tell I am quite accustomed to being the only person sleeping in my bed.
This brings me to a bit of a sore point, wherein I feel it only honest to include in this, my online life-account, that I am on the verge of quitting the online dating fiasco. Perhaps as someone who works very very full time, I was under the impression that online match-seeking was giving me an opportunity to meet people when I don't have the time or money to go out all the time, and I tend to get a little freaked out when event venues are really crowded. But all that online dating has done for me thus far has been stress me out and cause me to mentally peck at myself when trying to decode interactions with the live versions of my "matches", so look out 'cause I'm throwing a towel.
We don't have AC at my house, so we are all pretty much sweaty beasts. My cat, who usually only deigns to sleep on cushioned surfaces, has taken to chilling out on the floor. I plan on getting a fan this week.
I'm hanging my art show on MONDAY! aaaaah, I feel kind of unprepared, but in reality I am not. I keep starting new paintings, which might be counterproductive to the idea of finishing the other pieces that I have going, but it just pours out of me. Sunday I plan to be completely MIA, deep in art mode and definitely covered in paint.
Stressed and sweaty, I feel very unimpressed by this post, however, Frauline C says she misses reading my blog on her overnight shifts, and I wanted to at least get my salami obsession into cyberspace to amuse her.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Love that musky art scent
Argh, I just spilled my grubby brushwater all over my bedroom floor.
Shows I'm painting with reckless abandon, but it smells musty and now I have to wash extra towels in the laundry tomorrow. (How often do I thank heavens I don't have carpeting in here?)
But, I'm painting, I'm painting!! I feel really alive! Even when I just talk about painting I feel great. I can rarely ever work on just one painting at a time, I am all about the layering of imagery and intent and complex visual thicknesssss. One I have going right now is a mash of a LOT of detail and abstraction and layers, and then there is a 2 canvas figure painting that actually looks really stunning while being pretty calm but with clashy colours. I'm working with erotic undertones in my painting for this show, and it sure shows how much of a loaded, many-layered and multi-faceted that theme can be for many of us and definately is for me!
Looking at themes in my art, going to counselling apointment today and hanging out with my mumsie this evening really feels like a lot of honesty and deep inquiry. Today for me centred in part around looking at my body image from different angles I have been too afraid to go at it from for a long time. It also centred of course on listening to my mom's experience of going to one of her best friends' funeral last week and how that was for her and all the details of being there, going to the same funeral place that my Nana and Papa's ashes are and really visiting her Dead Folks. It also involved hearing so many beautiful stories of what people remember and how people hold it together. Wow.
My mom is super cool and we ate and had a great time. Talked about our current needlecraft projects, (she knits and i crochet), the kinds of cookies we are going to perfect when we have a baking night in honour of her late friend's life (Aunty was a totally cookie master! Even belonged to a cookie swap club), mom's accidental foray into using that intense Got 2b Glued hair product to "give her bangs a little definition"...I was like "oh, gosh they wronged you,mom, they have a special shampoo just for removing that stuff, it's like spike central! razor sharp bangs!" How could the person assisting her at Cosmetic World allow that kind of purchase to happen in good conscience? I used to use it when my hair was about an inch long when I was 16 because it is a great product to make it spikey and faux-ravery but got too pissed with it practically shellacking pieces of loose hair to my hands. Next time they ought to hook a lady up with some POMADE is all I'm saying.
Going to round up my laundry to get an early start on it tomorrow and then scoop kitty litter. What an exciting life!
~Sequin
Shows I'm painting with reckless abandon, but it smells musty and now I have to wash extra towels in the laundry tomorrow. (How often do I thank heavens I don't have carpeting in here?)
But, I'm painting, I'm painting!! I feel really alive! Even when I just talk about painting I feel great. I can rarely ever work on just one painting at a time, I am all about the layering of imagery and intent and complex visual thicknesssss. One I have going right now is a mash of a LOT of detail and abstraction and layers, and then there is a 2 canvas figure painting that actually looks really stunning while being pretty calm but with clashy colours. I'm working with erotic undertones in my painting for this show, and it sure shows how much of a loaded, many-layered and multi-faceted that theme can be for many of us and definately is for me!
Looking at themes in my art, going to counselling apointment today and hanging out with my mumsie this evening really feels like a lot of honesty and deep inquiry. Today for me centred in part around looking at my body image from different angles I have been too afraid to go at it from for a long time. It also centred of course on listening to my mom's experience of going to one of her best friends' funeral last week and how that was for her and all the details of being there, going to the same funeral place that my Nana and Papa's ashes are and really visiting her Dead Folks. It also involved hearing so many beautiful stories of what people remember and how people hold it together. Wow.
My mom is super cool and we ate and had a great time. Talked about our current needlecraft projects, (she knits and i crochet), the kinds of cookies we are going to perfect when we have a baking night in honour of her late friend's life (Aunty was a totally cookie master! Even belonged to a cookie swap club), mom's accidental foray into using that intense Got 2b Glued hair product to "give her bangs a little definition"...I was like "oh, gosh they wronged you,mom, they have a special shampoo just for removing that stuff, it's like spike central! razor sharp bangs!" How could the person assisting her at Cosmetic World allow that kind of purchase to happen in good conscience? I used to use it when my hair was about an inch long when I was 16 because it is a great product to make it spikey and faux-ravery but got too pissed with it practically shellacking pieces of loose hair to my hands. Next time they ought to hook a lady up with some POMADE is all I'm saying.
Going to round up my laundry to get an early start on it tomorrow and then scoop kitty litter. What an exciting life!
~Sequin
Friday, April 9, 2010
New blog thing: Bathroom Connoisseur
I'm a detail-noticer. I'm pretty observant regarding new arrangements of objects in a familiar place, gorgeous and/or striking eyebrows on strangers, and the details of public washrooms, to name a few.
When I go to a new place, such as a shop, restaurant, coffee place or bar, I always notice the restrooms. Are they noteworthy? Accessible? Clean? Are they gendered? What's the decor like? How do I dry my hands? Is the light switch hard to find?
So, why not fill others in on my observations? Here I am with "Bathroom Connoisseur", an unsolicited new addition to this blog.
Today, I went to the new Smoke's Poutinerie in my work neighbourhood, and after drawing the top half of Kermit the Frog on their chalk board and eating some fairly delicious poutine, I decided to check out their washroom.
It's downstairs, as so many restrooms are, and thus not accessible to anyone for whom stairs are a barrier. A lack of banister also made me feel like I could plummet to the bottom easily, but I braced myself using the walls. Considering the logo for Smoke's is a stencil/silkscreen-esque graphic of some fella's face that is plastered everywhere (including on t-shirts of the folks who work there), I was pleasantly surprised to discover that said fella's face was not in the bathroom, watching me pee. In fact, the downstairs portion is all white, blank and kind of mini.
There are two onesie bathrooms which are "not" gendered...Both rooms' signs have the dress woman and pants man symbols on them and say "Washroom" on them, denoting that either is fine. (I give mega-happy points to signs that just say "washroom" or some kind of variation therein without any kinds of images of binary gendered people and their clothing, so I'll give this one out of two thumbs up).
There were no mirrors in the room, which is neither here nor there, given that it is not the kind of eatery where many things could be stuck in your teeth.
The lights go on automatically, which is nice, since that's one less switch to touch and a lot less energy being wasted when nobody is in the room.
Foam soap dispenser, paper towel and an inward opening door are the last things I recall, and then I left and went to the art store and bought some glue and gesso.
I hope to bring you slightly more interesting bathroom news soon. Perhaps it's time for me to go to Marchet (now known as Richtree?) in the financial district again because their bathrooms have always inspired awe in me (mostly the decor...more on that later).
Off to go paint!
-Sequin
When I go to a new place, such as a shop, restaurant, coffee place or bar, I always notice the restrooms. Are they noteworthy? Accessible? Clean? Are they gendered? What's the decor like? How do I dry my hands? Is the light switch hard to find?
So, why not fill others in on my observations? Here I am with "Bathroom Connoisseur", an unsolicited new addition to this blog.
Today, I went to the new Smoke's Poutinerie in my work neighbourhood, and after drawing the top half of Kermit the Frog on their chalk board and eating some fairly delicious poutine, I decided to check out their washroom.
It's downstairs, as so many restrooms are, and thus not accessible to anyone for whom stairs are a barrier. A lack of banister also made me feel like I could plummet to the bottom easily, but I braced myself using the walls. Considering the logo for Smoke's is a stencil/silkscreen-esque graphic of some fella's face that is plastered everywhere (including on t-shirts of the folks who work there), I was pleasantly surprised to discover that said fella's face was not in the bathroom, watching me pee. In fact, the downstairs portion is all white, blank and kind of mini.
There are two onesie bathrooms which are "not" gendered...Both rooms' signs have the dress woman and pants man symbols on them and say "Washroom" on them, denoting that either is fine. (I give mega-happy points to signs that just say "washroom" or some kind of variation therein without any kinds of images of binary gendered people and their clothing, so I'll give this one out of two thumbs up).
There were no mirrors in the room, which is neither here nor there, given that it is not the kind of eatery where many things could be stuck in your teeth.
The lights go on automatically, which is nice, since that's one less switch to touch and a lot less energy being wasted when nobody is in the room.
Foam soap dispenser, paper towel and an inward opening door are the last things I recall, and then I left and went to the art store and bought some glue and gesso.
I hope to bring you slightly more interesting bathroom news soon. Perhaps it's time for me to go to Marchet (now known as Richtree?) in the financial district again because their bathrooms have always inspired awe in me (mostly the decor...more on that later).
Off to go paint!
-Sequin
Friday, April 2, 2010
Your urns smell like LewisCraft
Hey, what's up, internet? You scramble my brain but you're still alright.
I feel like I haven't been blogging fearlessly enough. My so-called blogger "dashboard" (woah!) says I have 12 posts on here, but several of those are abandoned drafts! I need to stop abandoning drafts for fear that they are boring or pointless. Many of my favourite bloggers sure don't let that stop them, and I don't mean that in the backhanded-compliment way it sounds! Some things are awesome because they are exciting, but not every single moment can be covered in neon rays of flashing wondrousness - some things are awesome because they are just real life and folks can relate to that.
Without further ado: My Day, Exuding REALNESS.
I tried to wake up at a decent hour this morning, because as I mentioned I am trying to get onto a sleep schedule that relates more directly to being alive when the sun is out. My BFF, who has been (and from here on out shall continue to be) referred to here as "Snoof", has been helping me out in this department, as I like her more than my alarm clock and therefore feel more excited to wake up and hang out with her than with a clock. Finally got up at 9:30 with minimal shouting from Snoof in the living room ("[Sequin Brown]! I'm alone in the living room with our coffees!!") and after a terrifyingly unhealthy breakfast of sour cream n onion chip remnants and Starbux Via instant coffee, I decided to listen to some Riot Grrrl music and work on a couple of paintings I've been meaning to tweak.
After that good time, plus a shower, Snoof took us out for ice cream to reward herself, and by lucky extension me, for having made several pages of notes for one of her many papers due in the next few days. After this joy, I got on the subway to go see my counselor, which is one hell of a transit ride out to the lovely 'burbs, had a decent session and hauled my arse back to the mainland to have a secular Good Friday dinner with my Mom.
We laughed, we caught up on life, mocked all the new developments in makeup application we noticed in Fashion magazine (honestly, roll-on foundation, spherical mascara wands and...vibrating mineral powder???) and drank zinfandel! Mom made some fabulous lasagna and brownies, 'cause we like things non-traditional that way. We surfed the net together, looking at really old photos of her parents and cousins that my uncle scanned and e-mailed her. I also introduced her to regretsy.com, which I figured she might get a kick out of if only for the entries where etsy sellers' spelling and grammar mistakes are picked on - she's a stickler for that sort of thing, and she likes crafts, to boot. "Fugly" seemed to be my mom's unofficial Favourite Slang Word to Use With Caution in 2006 or thereabouts, so I needed to hook her up with some fugly craft commentary.
This led us to gripe harmlessly about the new urns that "decorate" the front entrance of her (formerly "our") apartment building...they're big, they're gaudy and they're full of a combo of dried and fake plant matter that smells like spray glue and florist's foam. False pears and red spray painted pussy willows jut out at all angles and threaten to poke out visitors' eyes. Before I left, we spent a lot of time looking for the area on my totally unflattering but sensational sweater that I could have sworn had a polka-dotting error. Maybe I was hallucinating last time I wore it, but I really thought one of the shoulders had been knit with a few toonie-sized dots missing. I love my mom.
In closing, I noticed that being constantly connected through social technology like Facebook and text messaging makes me way more anxious and skews my already flawed sense of time. I find myself mentally rehashing sent e-mails and wondering where I went wrong if I don't receive relatively immediate responses. Because of this, I sometimes feel like a paper-bag puppet with extra-large googlie eyes: crinkly, ridiculous and wiggly.
I feel like I haven't been blogging fearlessly enough. My so-called blogger "dashboard" (woah!) says I have 12 posts on here, but several of those are abandoned drafts! I need to stop abandoning drafts for fear that they are boring or pointless. Many of my favourite bloggers sure don't let that stop them, and I don't mean that in the backhanded-compliment way it sounds! Some things are awesome because they are exciting, but not every single moment can be covered in neon rays of flashing wondrousness - some things are awesome because they are just real life and folks can relate to that.
Without further ado: My Day, Exuding REALNESS.
I tried to wake up at a decent hour this morning, because as I mentioned I am trying to get onto a sleep schedule that relates more directly to being alive when the sun is out. My BFF, who has been (and from here on out shall continue to be) referred to here as "Snoof", has been helping me out in this department, as I like her more than my alarm clock and therefore feel more excited to wake up and hang out with her than with a clock. Finally got up at 9:30 with minimal shouting from Snoof in the living room ("[Sequin Brown]! I'm alone in the living room with our coffees!!") and after a terrifyingly unhealthy breakfast of sour cream n onion chip remnants and Starbux Via instant coffee, I decided to listen to some Riot Grrrl music and work on a couple of paintings I've been meaning to tweak.
After that good time, plus a shower, Snoof took us out for ice cream to reward herself, and by lucky extension me, for having made several pages of notes for one of her many papers due in the next few days. After this joy, I got on the subway to go see my counselor, which is one hell of a transit ride out to the lovely 'burbs, had a decent session and hauled my arse back to the mainland to have a secular Good Friday dinner with my Mom.
We laughed, we caught up on life, mocked all the new developments in makeup application we noticed in Fashion magazine (honestly, roll-on foundation, spherical mascara wands and...vibrating mineral powder???) and drank zinfandel! Mom made some fabulous lasagna and brownies, 'cause we like things non-traditional that way. We surfed the net together, looking at really old photos of her parents and cousins that my uncle scanned and e-mailed her. I also introduced her to regretsy.com, which I figured she might get a kick out of if only for the entries where etsy sellers' spelling and grammar mistakes are picked on - she's a stickler for that sort of thing, and she likes crafts, to boot. "Fugly" seemed to be my mom's unofficial Favourite Slang Word to Use With Caution in 2006 or thereabouts, so I needed to hook her up with some fugly craft commentary.
This led us to gripe harmlessly about the new urns that "decorate" the front entrance of her (formerly "our") apartment building...they're big, they're gaudy and they're full of a combo of dried and fake plant matter that smells like spray glue and florist's foam. False pears and red spray painted pussy willows jut out at all angles and threaten to poke out visitors' eyes. Before I left, we spent a lot of time looking for the area on my totally unflattering but sensational sweater that I could have sworn had a polka-dotting error. Maybe I was hallucinating last time I wore it, but I really thought one of the shoulders had been knit with a few toonie-sized dots missing. I love my mom.
In closing, I noticed that being constantly connected through social technology like Facebook and text messaging makes me way more anxious and skews my already flawed sense of time. I find myself mentally rehashing sent e-mails and wondering where I went wrong if I don't receive relatively immediate responses. Because of this, I sometimes feel like a paper-bag puppet with extra-large googlie eyes: crinkly, ridiculous and wiggly.
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