Notes on "Space Pics"

I learned how to use spray paint like this from an instructor of a science ed class. Everyone loves it. Over four years, though, only one coworker accepted my offer to show him how to do it. Kids think it's awesome.


http://poetonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/06/space-pics-by-lluvia.html

Notes on "Mask"

Some friends and I were discussing the influence of African and Native American (including Latin American) cultures on the Europeans who immigrated to the New World. We made really cool masks, villages, and some other items of interest. The mask in the picture is mine. It hung in my office for four years. Now it is here.

http://poetonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/06/mask-by-lluvia.html

Notes on "Radar Head"

"Radar Head" is very special to me. Last year, this supersmart 10 year-old was afraid to draw. He thought my drawing was cool. He began drawing wierd stuff, too. This same kid was able to explain the orbits of Pluto and Neptune in a way that made sense to me. I had read about it, and was really close to understanding it. Smart Kid sealed the deal, lol. He believes Pluto is a planet. After listening to him, so do I.

I cleaned out my office today. My husband did not think I would be able to fit everything in the car. He never does, but I always make it happen, ha ha. Too busy moving stuff, I waited to cry until I got home and started pulling out the art that I wanted to photograph and post. I started thinking about how good everything was until a few months ago. How to get back to that...

Sometimes, I want to go somewhere else. I am honestly good at what I do, although I understand if that seems illogical to those who cannot know everything, only soundbites and heads of coins. I've wondered whether I would do better to be in a place where people are hungry - to eat and to learn. My husband thinks I am crazy (lmao!) when I say things like that, but I was much happier in those circumstances.

Okay, I am spoiled for things like coffee, a soft bed, lotion... showers... But I could adjust, I think. I need a purpose. Been giving away more art, but I need something less self-serving to fulfill my selfish sense of purpose. Someone understands what I'm talking about.

http://poetonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/06/radar-head-by-lluvia.html

Notes on "Grown Up Dinner"

The drawing "Grown Up Dinner" has some emotions, and it has some wierd thoughts of mine. Besides all the sex going on in the drawing as well as affection, I was thinking about rainbows. I have drawn hundreds of rainbows, and I have always drawn them like rainbows. Yesterday, however, I looked at my rainbow and thought "Why do rainbows end?" I have thought this before, and I can only assume that they don't. So I extended it into a circle because I felt like it. In the end, it worked for several reasons.

Since then, I have been wondering a lot of things. Okay, I think I get the curvature in the sky because of the shape of water molecules as opposed to the linear visible spectrum through a prism. Does one shape more 'correctly' display the spectrum? Does a rainbow truly go 'round like a circle?

Assuming there is a rainbow circle, is it really a circle, or is it concave/convex (I get these reversed) like a bowl? Could it ever be a sphere?

Does the shape of the spectrum reveal the shape of other molecules?

Someone probably already knows the answers to these questions. Feel free to share the info via comments. Thanks.

http://poetonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/06/grown-up-dinner-by-lluvia.html

Notes On "The Voice of Dead Poets" by Lluvia

When I sat down to draw this piece, The Voice of Dead Poets, my mood was somber. This was only a few days ago when I began to discover new truths about my friends. I had no thought as to what object to draw, but I wanted drab yet living colors for the most part.

However, the purple lines of the arrow were the first marks on the paper. In my heart, I felt love and, even more, loyalty to my friends. Somewhat betrayed sentiments drew my hand in linear, angular directions. For months, I have felt in the midst of great conflicts not knowing at whom or what I aimed.

The orange and yellow membrane suffers the pierce of the outward attacks from within. Even conflicted toward the stranger(s) I thought I had met, the "one" who betrayed me, betrayed me not, I did not like that I had to attack at times in order to preserve my dignity, way of life. The higher reasoning of putting aside personal feelings for the purpose of self-preservation seemed not animalistic, for my only attacks were defenses (save one and it was never referred to again). Yet my reasons did not seem quite human. In some ways above humanity, but in others less than (denial of emotions). The heart has felt extremely torn in a way that has been difficult to ignore.

The mission, the objective, therefore, are represented by the olive green and grey, muted negative feelings of heartbreak that are second to the sense of duty to myself. These colors as well as the slightly brighter green, dark brown, and grey of the sea creature/graveyard, are colors the military use or have used for various combat uniforms, further reiterating my sense of mission.

The circle shapes represent different concepts. The orange yellow cirlce is being stretched by the piercing. This is a natural effect, and the membrane is more stretched the closer it is to the puncture point. Some events hurt worse than others, especially when people close to me are involved.

The drab green/grey circle serves as an eyelid of sorts, but it also represents a reinforcement around the membrane that keeps too much damage from hurting the creature. It also resembles a launchpad for the purple/orange arrow, a missile, with yellow/orange flames shooting out as the missile takes off.

The fleshy, grey lumps on the sea creature's face symbolize ugliness: ugly lies, ugly truth, ugly self-concepts, ugly. The rich brown and brighter green, however, suggest natural beauty beneath the skin tags. The tags double as the tombstones of dead poets. Most of the tombstones touch grass but also mud as the lives of many poets are not traditional. The choices, including poor ones, that poets make are usually acted upon by what they feel in their heart, their soul. And when they display their heart and soul for others, the soiled and tainted are just as evident as the innocent and sacred.

The purple/orange missile is also the voice, singular to represent poets' fraternity. The voice never dies and will show itself to life and to the living again and again. The voice may change pitch, rhythm, or amplitude. In my case, the voice on all sides was strong, powerful, militaristic at the time. But if you notice, the missile is not pointing directly at its (my) target, the blue castles. Blue symbolizes friendship and loyalty, but the orange windows stand for breaking of trust, of rules, and for discord within the closeknit castles. Castles represent wealth or a fairy tale existence; yet their foundation is a mound of sand, unseemingly touched by the ocean's currents.

There is also an "orange" connection between my missile and my hidden foes (friends). I, too, broke some rules of interpersonal relations. These missteps are uncovered, though, open, glaring, even sexual in nature. The masculine phallus represents my donning of a more typically masculine attitude and approach in dealing with my problems. The castles, on the other hand, appear to be mostly male with at least one female in the level of hierarchy with whom I interacted.

At the time, the blue castles still did not recognize my soul, although they did recognize my outward appearance. They fooled themselves by focusing too much on my flaws and not enough on my talents. They also failed to listen to my pleas, my acknowledgements, my advice, my warnings. Therefore, they are pointing their own missiles in another direction, completing missing their target. Instead, the castles point to unseen (they see not the inner me) ocean waters. The waters are bluish green for they saw me less a friend and more an enemy during this phase of the battle. Their membrane has weak reinforcement, merely more of the same sand packed in tight at the base of the castle facades and at the base of the mound. Like the sediment of the New Orleans' levees, they did not withstand the storm as the residents had assumed they would.

If I drew a similar picture now, any remaining missiles would be lowering and would have rounded heads to symbolize a battle ending. I would also change the shape of the purple/orange missile's shaft. The cylinders are more sexual, while the edged prism and head are more damaging. In some ways, I did feel violated, and I think that is another reason why the missile tearing through my membrane has sharp edges. The castles appear to do no damage to their own core, but they did not see themselves hurting themselves or each other as they were focused mostly on me.


http://poetonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/05/voice-of-dead-poets-by-lluvia.html

Notes on Love and Honor

The poem Love and Honor, it may be metaphorical, or it may be real. You will perceive it as you are wired.

I Am The Rhythm

I am the rhythm.

I am the rhythm.

The rain has a rhythm.

The rain has a rhythm.

You know I can dance the tango.

You know I can dance the tango.

It may not be the judges' tango.

but I know how to make your fandango.

I am the rhythm.

I am the rhythm.

The rain drops a light,

a soft sweet rhythm.

Waltzing with me, feet don't touch air.

Waltzing with me, feet don't touch air.

Spinning and twirling without a care.

twining my fingers through your hair.

I am the rhythm.

I am the rhythm.

The rain taps a lively,

toe-tapping rhythm.

Together, apart, but don't let go.

Together, apart, but don't let go.

Dipping and flirting, flirting and dipping,

I don't keep your hands from slipping (below).

I am the rhythm.

I am the rhythm.

The rain pounds a grinding,

a hip-grinding rhythm.

Our pelvises gyrate in perfect time.

Our pelvises gyrate in perfect time.

Keeping our balance, eyes to eyes,

your breath so close, I can make it mine.

I am the rhythm, and you are mine.

I am the rhythm, and you are mine.

You have my rhythm now.

You have my rhythm now.

You feel my rhythm.

You feel my rhythm.

Feel my rhythm.

Feel my rhythm.

My rhythm.

My rhythm.

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

Notes on "Observing the Chaos"

I drew "Observing the Chaos," "Almost Home," "The Tree Grew Tentacles," and "Whale of a Tale" sometime last year. "Observing the Chaos" began as me drawing shapes and colors to see the shapes and colors.

When I stopped to get something to eat or drink and then looked at it, I saw cool stuff, but there was a pattern that only I could recognize (probably). To everyone else, it would appear chaotic. I added the wooden fruit bowl (unintentional-- I think I just liked the shape) and the shape with the eye (intentional to be an eye-- and I think I just liked the shape). Okay, there are some sexual shapes in the drawing.

This drawing was so crazy and fun to do. I went back and forth trying to decide whether I wanted it to be flying fruit or a road leading to a crazy mall scene. And then I thought "This is my everyday life. Sometimes it is just crazy, can't tell heads from tails, and all I can do is watch-- and figure out where to land." And... "Should I try to catch anything?"

Click here to view Observing the Chaos.

Notes on "For My Friend"

"For My Friend" is unique for several reasons. This was my first serious color pencil drawing in years. A couple of months ago, I spent all of my fun money on art supplies. I have enjoyed the hobby, and it is still less expensive than eating out all the time. My thighs thank me.

A rare event, I drew a picture with something specific in mind from the beginning. It is not normal at all for me to be very specific when I draw. Usually, I draw because I feel a certain way. Or I draw a certain way because I feel. Sometimes I just color on the paper to see the hues. But most of the time if I intend to draw something, I cannot get it right. Then it becomes something else, or I throw it away.

That is not to say that I knew every detail before I drew this one. That is not the case at all. The idea was solitude. Of course, I had to begin with a house. I wanted the house to be small, blend in, almost invisible. The earth underneath is extra security.

I knew that I wanted colors, but I also wanted a feeling of tranquility to exude from the drawing, as if being lifted from the stresses of work, bills, life in general, to somewhere serene, like an ocean paradise.

The yellow ribbon pulled my hand along its path as if it were the Pied Piper playing a hypnotic tune. He led me around and around. The rainbow began to grow, and it had a cupped shape from the beginning. I wanted to make it seem like a cupped hand lifting the house and the solid ground. A hand is more substantial than a rainbow, but not very magical without a rainbow. The two work well together.

The house had to be lifted from somewhere. The smaller buildings were purposeful, but the large building was a very nice and interesting surprise. All but two of the windows are somber. One has a yellow shade and the other a red shade for the people who manage to find happiness in everyday life. Most people are stressed.

The tunnel was not planned, but I thought to draw it next to the smaller buildings. I thought to go from arches to waves seemed a natural progression. But I wanted a sunset, too. I drew it.

I wasn't sure what to do with the large building once I had it drawn. Oh, I meant to twist it as I had the tunnel, but I wanted to make it (the building and the rest of civilization) disappear. A mega tidal wave made absolutely perfect sense.

So I drew sand in front of the building and then began to draw the big colorful waves. I did not like the blue pencil waves. I knew that I would not like the pencil foam. I used pastels for the bright blue wave with foam that is headed straight for the warped building. I thought it turned out great. Besides washing away the stresses, the waves are pushing up the rainbow cup to make it move faster.

Brown in the bottom corners and in part of the big wave symbolizes security-- even though some of the brown is a wave. There is security in being protected. The whole drawing is about shielding our loved ones and lifting them up when they need it.


Click here to view For My Friend.

Notes on "Attention, Please"

The poem refers to an accident that I had more than 20 years ago. I struggled with various problems until it was decided that I could take medication for a previously undiagnosed condition that may have been exacerbated by the accident. Allowing the shame and guilt of taking medicine to overshadow the benefits, I thought I should stop taking the medicine. Not a good idea.

My injury did necessitate surgery at the time, and surgeons did mention some possible internal problems that my parents never investigated.

I learned to cope with problems I did not realize I had, and others subsided with time. Or wires rerouted themselves.

Several years ago, an mri revealed scar tissue, not in the brain, but behind my face, the area of impact. Advancements in technology might reveal more truths if I wanted to, but it might not.

Either way, people whose job it is to diagnose finally took my complaints seriously. The meds have made a tremendous difference. Not cured 100%. But I don't have to worry about passing out or becoming lethargically impaired.

I still get lost and confused sometimes. A few weeks ago, I tried to follow written instructions. I got lost. Oh, and verbal instructions are a joke. I have to write it down or carry a printed copy.

For example, I cannot always read the mail that comes. Sometimes, I look at it, and it appears an ocean of gray and black on white.

Sometimes, I forget about it for a while until it just comes like a flash.

My children learned something from me. When they started driving, if ever they were lost, they called either me or their dad for help. A useful strategy.

My point is that I have never been helpless. I have always tried to stay focused, deal with my problems head on. I never wanted help. I don't like taking meds. However, I do like having to work much less now (in the brain), and I feel much safer.


Click here to read Attention, Please.