Imagery

 Images. I live with them. Images I find outside of myself and the images that come from inside. I always come back to the same themes. You don't choose your own taste in art, photography and literature. It's all about youth, boys and girls with that certain kind of hard melancholia disguised by beauty. I'm deeply amazed by the emotions and ideas that can be conveyed through very simple imagery if you're able to look deeper than what you see at first glance. Some images stay with me forever and really have an impact on the way I see things or which direction I want to take in my own artistic expressions. Tumblr is a very nice community for gathering images and inspiration but I've found that to be it is way more than just a way of blogging and re-blogging pretty pics. If I look through my tumblr-blog I get all the memories back of what I felt like when I found and reblogged that specific photo. It's actually a much more personal and naked image of my emotions and thoughts than what this text-based blog is. I am and I've always been very open and honest here but I think the way of expressing yourself through a flow of combined images that you just find at random is a very interesting form of writing a diary. It doesn't say anything if you can't read between the pixels, but for a person who knows me and has some clue of what I'm going through I'm sure the symbolism, combinations of colours and themes will tell a very accurate story.

Some days I only feel like black and white. Other days there are rainbows of trippy colours, photos of ice cream and lollipops and the day after I post images of teary-eyed punk girls in bathtubs. I don't think any one single piece of art I've made or a single text entry on this blog can describe my whole person and personality as well as that tumblr can. Wanna see who I am? Take a look.

Where have I been?

I don't even know... I don't even want to include a picture in this post which breaks my consistant theme of always having images as a theme for my words.

I guess my life, as always, has been confusing. I's actually quite amusing how I always manage to confuse myself in the strange situations I find myself in. Ever since I stopped being a terrified little lump-like rabbit person I've gone off on various adventures that really make my life a whole lot more interesting but then afterwards I don't even know how I got into those adventures to begin with. Being spontaneous is great though and I'm starting to realize that this kind of spontaneous bravery (or stupidity  depending who you ask) can lead me to unexpected places.

I've been completely exhausted from tight deadlines at work since the launch of Sanctum 2 is approaching fast. I've been so wrapped up in it all that I've sort of gotten lost in that creativity. At the same time I've been inspired to reach out and try new forms of creative outlets. I've gotten back my urge to really focus on writing. I have new found energy and dreams about making that art book / biography / poetry thingy into reality. I just need to start somewhere and I think my most recent adventures has given me that final push in the right direction.

I've always hated feeling stuck in one place. That nasty sensation of being too comfortable in a place or situation that doesn't really move forward as fast as you'd want it to. I've always reached my biggest goals and dreams when I've dared to take that giant risky leap of changing everything. I think I'm ready to make that change again, but I need some time to prepare. Sort of like packing my mental backpack before I set out on a journey. I don't even know what my goals are. I think the traveling is the goal in itself and I don't mean traveling literally. More like just setting my life back in motion again. The only thing I need to do is to decide on something, set my eyes on it and then GO GO GO!

Feels scary and good as all great things do.

boi!

Not feeling empty anymore, it was as I predicted, a temporary bump on the road in a very bumpy every day life of me. Today I feel full! Like... full of myself! Yes, you heard me. I really don't see anything wrong with that description since being full of yourself means you actually appreciate yourself which is a good thing! As long as you don't walk around being all obnoxious and look down on others because of it. Ok I admit it, I can be a bit obnoxious but not in a mean or rude way. Noh noh!

Today I sat on the office couch all day with my laptop, planning ahead and doing a lot of writing instead of the usual painting. It feels good to just really dive into a specific part of work sometimes and spend a whole day focusing on it. My head can't really handle switching between tasks too quickly. It gets all dizzy and stuff. So while I was sitting there on the couch, writing and plotting, there was this cute boi cuddling with me! Sackboi! Gah, I miss playing Little Big Planet with G now. All those giggles!

Full of Empty

I'm trying to think of something to say that would describe how things are and what I'm doing. You know, the stuff you put on your blog. It's just that my days sort of melt together now and I don't really know what I'm doing or where I'm going. I guess I feel sort of empty right now. Even my attempts to paint at home end up feeling more empty than usual. It might be the tangled mess of confusing emotions that have tossed my mind around a bit too much. Emotional exhaustion. Still, I'm trying to replace all this empty with friends, laughs and plans for summer. Somehow it all feels kind of outside of me which I really don't like. As if I'm not actually a part of my own life right now, just watching from the sidelines wondering what's going on. I don't like it. I don't like it at all, but it's temporary. Just like everything else.

Now in full color motion picture!

So yes, I have thought about this for a long long time. And now I've done it. I'm on youtube. I will now not only blog, tweet, paint and tumblr-fumble but also talk nonsense with myself for all the world to see. Feels good. Feels safe. People on the internet are always nice... Right?

Mixtapes and Symbolism

I realized something today. Well, I think I've known for quite some time but it became really clear while trying to explain how my mind works to my friend. I overthink. This is common. But mix this with the mind of an artist who loves to analyze psychology, philosophy, symbolism and metaphors in music, images and poetry. I can see symbolism everywhere and I love to think about it. Twist and turn things in my head to make things fit like some sort of beautiful puzzle.

I don't expect people to be able to follow my trails of thoughts but I probably expect people to be able to see things the way I do. Of course they don't. Most people don't think like that at all and even if they do they might not see the things I see. They think and feel differently which is just the way things work.

When I go through things in life. Emotional turmoil, extreme happiness, curiosity, sadness or anger, I have a need to express this somehow. I try to explain things to myself to get some sort of order amongst my disorganized thoughts and ideas. I think I've always been like this but it's not until recently I've really started to become aware of it and how I can use it in artwork. More importantly though, I learn little by little how I work and how others work. Maybe this means I can avoid misunderstandings, confusion and sadness in the future? I hope so. I'll still make cryptic and symbolic art. Write strange poems that probably don't make sense to most people. It's my way of coping with things that I find difficult to handle otherwise. I love to share what I think and feel but not because I need others to understand. I do it to make myself understand and then if I'm able to convey what I feel that is a very sweet bonus.

Sometimes I feel like I'm way crazier than I thought I was but I don't think I'm really crazy (except for obvious mental illness) I'm simply an artist. Yes, the kind of artist that likes to sit by herself with her deep thoughts and create things that hold great meaning to her and to others it might just be another pretty picture. I laugh at this myself sometimes since it's such a storybook example of what an artist is like. Well, I guess that's just me. I've accepted that and I'm slowly accepting that most people probably won't be able to read my mind even when I really want them to. I'll try to be more clear in the future. But I'll never stop being cryptic either! Let me give you an example...

american pancake mix tape. made it for me. gave it to you. to understand us. others can find it if they can read the signs. enter the code. find the hidden feels.

Effects of the Sun!

I know I've mentioned before, at some point in the past, that the weather has a huge impact on my moods. Most people prefer good weather over bad (obviooously..) but I feel that when I wake up a morning with sunshine everywhere I get this huge amount of energy and feel so happy I have to get up out of bed and just dance. This means I sometimes get late since dancing and getting dressed at the same time is kind of tricky. Well well...

A well known fact about me is that I suffer from extreme and rapid moodswings. I never know when a good day might turn into a horrible one and the other way around. My art usually reflects this. I can't draw happy things while feeling bad and I can't draw sad things while being super happy. I've also realized when looking back at my own gallery that you can see how my mood shifts over time. The downtimes and the ups. Highs and lows. It's sort of like a diary in art that I haven't really thought about before.

This gave me an idea because I've wanted to write about my own life. I've also always wanted to make a proper artbook. So why not both? It's still just a vague idea in my mind but I think I could do it. Mix true stories from my life with my own texts, poems, artwork and get an overview of my life this way. I'm actually really excited and all I need is a basic outline and somewhere to start. I'd do it for myself mostly but of course I want to share it too! That's the whole point of creativity for me. I make my art for my own happiness and then that enjoyment just doubles when I get to share it with others.

Strawberry Bubbles

More photography! I was bored at the grocery store a few days ago and found some shelves with random stuff for 10kr (really cheap) So I got some soap bubbles, street chalk and then we were all set for a new photo session, Julia and I. I really can't wait for proper spring to arrive because it's still biting cold in the shade over here and there are silly piles of snow everywhere. Still, we went out and got all creative and slightly silly as always. Last night I got my hair re-bleached and dip dyed and every time I see my hair in the mirror I get the urge to eat it. But that would be totally gross so I won't do that... 

The story of how I met Julia, my long lost twin of awesome, is really quite weird and funny. At least if you like the weird kind of funny. We had both been sent to this "daycare centre" for depressed and anxious adults where all the sad people gather up to drink coffee and have a walk together. It was probably the most degrading and stupid thing I've ever done but as we went for that walk along with caretakers and other depressed people we were the only smokers so we walked to ourselves. Small-talk and polite conversation quickly lead to hyperactive squealing about how much we had in common. It's so weird because we have mutual friends, the same hobbies, the same taste in clothes, music and most other things. We are equally emotionally unstable and equally hyper awesome rainbox unicorns. Can't believe we've lived in the same city for so long without even meeting each other.

There was a time that I felt I didn't have any real friends. Well, I always had one or two but most of my friends were long-distance ones and no matter how much you love them they'll always be too far away to hug which is sad. Friends have moved to other cities, gotten other jobs or just drifted away. But I'm slowly beginning to realize that I now have a whole crew of amazing friends. They don't all know each other, but it's really incredible how many other creative, sensitive and cool girls there are out there and I know so many of them! I wanna get to know even more! We're the kind of girls that were social outcasts when we were kids. Somewhat crazy daydreamers that just don't fit into reality so we prefer to make our own. We're not all the same but we can always relate to each other and we've got each others backs. I wish I could gather all my awesome girls in one place and we'd start a mean badass crew! All of us! Then we'd find even more people like us and we'd have so much fun. Doing random things, boosting our self esteem and playing around like silly hyper squirrels while painting, singing and snapping pics. That's one daydream I really want to make into reality.

Art

To me, art has always been beauty. It's been something I just have to do. It's never been a hobby or a career choice. If I didn't make art I wouldn't be me. All my life I've kind of been struggling though. Always trying to find a balance between what I really want to do and what I should do in order to improve my skills and get a job. I mean, really, an artist? Pfft, is that even a real job? I'd say no, it's not. It's a way of being and I know that might sound pretentious but for me it's true. When I spent all those years in school trying to improve as an artist. Doing millions of sketches just to learn anatomy I felt as if I was being drained. It didn't feel right and I didn't improve. I actually took steps backwards and after a while I couldn't draw at all. It was a process that felt so painful and filled with stress and performance anxiety that I was afraid to even pick up a pencil.

I developed social anxiety disorder and I lived in a deep depression for about 8-10 years. Sure, I made some images but they didn't feel like me. I didn't have fun while I made them. I didn't enjoy the process because I was just looking at the end product. It makes me sad to think about it because I see now what I did wrong. I started to create art in order to please others instead of myself. I don't know if I actually managed to please others either. Sure some of the pics looked good and people told me I was good at what I did but that was all that it was. It also hurts to see so many friends of mine struggle with the same methods of "grinding" their art skills as if lifting weights at a gym. Drawing is not a work out session. It's supposed to be something you do because you really want to do it. Not to improve, not to get a job. Just draw. For you.

I've managed to break through that mental barrier of performance anxiety. I simply stopped looking ahead, aiming for some kind of goal. My art is not the means to any end. Each painting is important to me, both during the process and after I have shown it to people. To see and hear their reactions. I haven't really thought much about this until now but I've noticed a change in peoples reactions and it made me think about the difference between my older works and the ones I make today. The art I make today is honest, open, vulnerable and revealing. I now find myself unable to paint unless I have true emotions to convey, at least while painting for me. Work is another thing entirely  I don't paint in order to have a job. I have a job in order to paint.

I've been sharing a lot lately and not just the usual rambles about nothing special. I know I'm sort of taking a big risk in being so open and honest for all the world to see, but I've thought about that a lot. People get to see straight into my life as if standing outside of my window but I'm ok with that. I've put up colourful curtains and even though I'm not hiding behind them I know that the world can't see all of me. They'll see the colours and the shapes I make. They'll see the art I make and start to think. At the top of this post I have taken screenshots of comments I've received on some of my latest pieces and I find myself going back to read them over and over. I really can't describe the feeling of hearing someone tell me that my art makes them realize things about themselves that they didn't know before. They share their stories and emotions with me because I share mine with them.

Internet is a place full of shallow interactions and arguments. Anger, annoyance and funny jokes. To find true honesty is kind of rare and I guess that's because of the risk involved. But people can't really hurt me because of what I share. It's the other way around. The things I share leave my mind for a moment and when they are out there for everyone to see I feel no shame. Everyone will have opinions wether they are positive, negative or indifferent. I'm not sharing to see peoples reactions though (even if they are very welcome) I'm sharing to change my opinion about myself. It's just a thing of mine I guess. Unless I get my thoughts and emotions out of my head they will linger there and grow in the most disgusting ways. If I write or paint them and show them it doesn't matter who sees them. I can let go of them and move on. That's how I see my own art.

Ready Made American Pancake Mix

If I can be truthful, which I know I can. You told me to always tell the truth. You would do the same. I'll have to admit I sometimes lied in those conversations. Trying to make it feel better than it did. You haven't yet revealed your own lies. They don't need to come out I feel them anyway. I felt them from the start, soaking my lips like strawberry poison. It was easy to steal me away. I have always wished to be stolen anyway. I surrendered from the start. No. I surrendered even before I dared to look at your eyes. When I did they were kind. That scared me more than anything. It scares me even today. Like a frightened rabbit willingly choking in your embrace. Those arms of yours. They are so very long. They'd reach around me twice, tickling victimize. Like the lions in the fairy tales you'd feel strong and safe. You can pretend that to be the truth but you will always know. In Real Life the lions shred your skin. And you were no lion at all, you were just a boy. I blamed myself for being so frightened. It didn't make no sense. But of course it did. Sometimes worrying is justified. As if feelings obeyed any laws. I tried to scratch them all away. Imagining the lions claws. So you see what I did. It's ok it's ok. I didn't know what I said. I don't want you to know. But I want you to know. I want them all to know. That I am going to break. Don't leave me. Please just don't. Stahp. I didn't say those words. I never did. I didn't even say those words when my mind played them on repeat in my head. Like the songs you used to send. Giggling little links of secrets. Independent words making a sentence. I want you I want you. That is what I heard. That is what I felt. You know why? Because just like our songs, your arms held hidden messenges. Be safe but know this: Child I will hurt you. I'm not in love. Our crystal castle never got to be. It was all in my head again, what the hell was I thinking? Happy endings just aren't realistic. Maso-fucking-chistic. Well you know I've always liked pain. You sure know I've suffered enough. You knew it from the start because I told you straight from my heart. Like a textbook cliché I poured myself out. Let the entire world watch as I fell apart. Hope they witness as I built myself up again. But fixed things don't always fix. Just like our Ready Made American Pancake Mix. I knew it was the last time. I had already given up. Kept the lies alive by risking my own life. I saw it you know. I know you do because you looked nervous when I did. The end credits of Stand By Me. That familiar song played only for a brief moment but it was enough. Moments and time all blur to me. Couldn't see straight. Couldn't think straight. But we watched that movie a week ago? Did you watch it again? I said like a joke self harm choke. It all became so close you know? I could see the blanket on your bed. The one that made me pure like binary. I knew you hadn't spent your nights alone with that blanket. I knew because you had spent them with me. But like zeros and ones your code made no sense to me. Dyscalculia is a bitch. I had the answers now. By telling lies like truths I had cheated on your test. Like you cheated on me. You fell in love on me. Like you fell in love on that blanket. But you didn't fall in love with me. You just fell inside of me. You found your princess in another crystal castle. Tell me what to swallow I'll believe anything. I know you'd never hurt me I'll pretend to be just fine. Then maybe you will realize this was all just a dream. Speaking about dreams I told you about mine. I'd write them down with scribbled little letters. Resting between your arms. We'd think it, talk it, laugh it out. Our movie nights gave me such cute ideas. We'd watch Lolita and I'd feel just like her. Only you wouldn't be like him. No no that would have been insane. No I knew you didn't look at me that way and I could pretend anyway. We'd build imaginary tents and become runaways like Sam and Suzy. Make fearsome animal hats and roar as we charged. We'd go into the forest and glow like trippy stars. I rested in those plans. Summer/Spring 2013. We'd be /fa/shionable and #swag. We wouldn't have had to brag. They would all be able to see. See that you were just like me. And I was just like you. But it didn't feel like that to you. Well that was what you said. But wait...No. You did tell me that. You said I felt so much like you that hurting me would feel like hurting yourself. You didn't hurt yourself. That's my thing, you can't have it. You walked away a winner. With that smile you had when you came up with another mean joke. I laughed at them all, you know I did. I thought them all funny since they were innocent. I knew you loved my lovely lumps. We'd laugh about your cheesy humour. You'd buy me cheezedoodles just to feed me noodles. But I was never your fangirl. I told you from the start. I told you not to break my heart. I didn't lie when I said I'd die. Look it up, it's on wikipedia. I knew I was strong and I didn't need your attention. We didn't need each other we were happy alone. But that was the thing, together you are less alone. We'd do it all together and you'd have my back. But I put some trust in you and landed on my head. I tried to do handstands for you I tried to do headstands for you but every time I fell on you. Every time I fell. Changed from pink to black and blue for you. Got holes in my new jeans for you. Sharing is caring didn't you know? Like we promised to share our secrets. At least the ones that'd hurt. You said you needed some time alone and I knew to back away. I felt a bit embarrassed but I pushed that fear away. Of course you wouldn't have her there you wouldn't even dare. When I found out it was through your friend. They had the days mixed up but all the facts where straight. Straight to anxiety attacks and hide it with a smile. It wasn't as if anything had happened, you had just fallen asleep. Was I ok with that? Of course I was, I'm always ok. Ok. Ok. Ok. But nah that just didn't work. I crashed down like a sad picture on a paper airplane. Pretty useless and only fun a while. You used those pretty lies again or maybe misused truths. Recycled lines to convince me to yield. Convince me to be ok. To be ok with your attachment issues and your self righteous way of life. You always were quite pretentious and that always made you proud. I thought it was quite cute until it wasn't anymore. I guess you grew uncomfortable with me like I grew uncomfortable with your eyes. I tried not to look and I tried not to care. But that took me nowhere. Why should I feel ashamed? What is shameful in feeling surreal after feeling so real? I tried to make you a mix tape. But I always changed my mind. You didn't deserve my cute hipster gifts. I spent the last of my money and care on the gas for that rented car. I think you should feel ashamed but I won't tell you what to do. I never did before so why bother now? I let you fall in love on me. I even helped you out. Out the door. Carrying two boxes that did belong to you. One a secret pink box full of cinnamon and drugs. One a box full of hugs. We had planned to eat them together and I bought them for us. I wanted to do it like we used to do it, do it all night. Ready Made American Pancake Mix. Mix Mix Mix my tape up.