Puppetstrings
colored pencil 4 1/2 x 19

This is an old piece I finally finished off. It was based on one of my poems, at one point I decided to try to do illustrations for some of my poetry. This is probably the only one I like enough to post. I found the perfect frame for it which inspired me to finish it. It's the only one that has come close to the mood I wanted to create.

My poetry tends to be pretty dark. I used to write a lot, in college especially. There was enough dramatic stuff going on in my life that it seems like the way to get the good energy out was in my artwork, and the bad energy in my poetry. Most of it is scarily "emo" this is before that was even a term! But it helped me a lot back then to get it out of my system. Some of it is slightly embarrassing now since a lot of it revolved around a couple of people: one I could never ever forget and one I wish I could, as well as others. But one of the lessons in life is to remember such mistakes! (and such tragedies) So I don't let myself! Besides in order to do that I would have to destroy what I think are some of the best things I've written.

I'm working on posting my poems up on an old blog I've revamped for this purpose, but I want it all posted before I link to it. 100 + poems means that will take a while, but I feel like it needs to be somewhere besides sitting on a shelf in my studio. I don't know, those years were just so full of emotion, drama and choices to be made. If anyone reads them and can relate, maybe take something from them then it will be worth it.

Do I still write? No. Sometimes I think about it, but basically I am just not that depressed or angry person anymore. Originally how it worked to begin with was - if you hurt me, made me angry, made me feel sad, desperate or out of control I wrote about you, or the situation. After a point someone came along and actually made me happy and I just couldn't write anymore! I tried but those poems are just not even comparable, I just can't write happy stuff!
And now, So much more has happened since then, that I think I've developed other ways of dealing with such things. Believe me I have every reason to be able to write more lately, everything is out of control, but I can't reign it in. I get ideas, the random formations that could be a poem but I just can't put my mind in that place anymore, I can't add fuel to the fire, so I just pack it back inside. At this point denial proves a more useful tool.