(I’ve been emailing myself the content of these posts as it comes to me. This seems to take the pressure off and helps me to use the little dribs and drabs of open time.) (Often I will be sitting in my car, in a grocery store parking lot, or on the front steps, far from a computer. But, still I can get the words down, make sure the ideas are not forgotten. I appreciate technology.)


show details Sep 30 (1 day ago)

Strange couple of days. Barely drew at all. Haven’t thought a thing about post-apolocalypstic myth. Or rabbits, for that matter.
I need to sew a placenta for work. The Fiber-Art-Panty-Placenta.
It’s almost finished. It was not necessarily easy, but the project flowed smoothly in a way that is very refreshing. Nylon can be a very forgiving medium when constructing a lumpish ovoid shape.
Today at work I almost cried. This morning I slammed my finger in the door so hard I lost my breath. The senile cat peed on my bag. The one with the bumblebees on it. The only navy blue I ever really liked. Bastard day.
Then, sitting on the steps, it came to me. The FIBER ART PROM DRESS PLACENTA PROJECT
Step 1: go to goodwill, buy old prom dress, and any available hosiery (for umbilicuses)
Step 2: make 3 Placenta’s a week, until I have 15
Step 3: Establish a presence – hold placenta art show/auction
50 percent of proceeds will be given to non-profit causes (Mother Love – 20 percent, Life Patterns – 20 percent, Placenta Grant Fund: awarded yearly to a
Teen Mother who has risen to the occassion of her pregnancy
To be nominated by a local agency or program serving teenage mothers.)

I have done volunteer work with a girl for the past two years. She is now 17. And 8 weeks pregnant. My source inspiration is obvious.

Shit. This is the best idea I’ve ever had.

My lousy morning reminds me that birth is hard and that the energy we have for creation…
Arises in strange ways.

I will still draw
But I might start drawing placentas.

show details 1:32 PM (16 hours ago)

There seems to be a limit to my productivity. Long days make for early nights. I fell asleep with Olive. Again. Woke up at 4:30 – all the things I was supposed to do still undone.
Oh well. I plan on drawing this afternoon. The story that burned so brightly in my mind a few weeks ago…Pleura and her journey, her strange dreams. The desolate and hopeful look that she seemed to hold in her eyes. All those rabbits.
Did you know that about 600 years ago, an early explorer whose name I can’t recall took with his ship and crew a pregnant rabbit to the island of Porto Santo. The rabbits quickly took over, devouring everything. The meat they offered was far less than the meat they produced. The ate the island barren. Abandoning the rabbit wasteland of Porto Santo, the explorers settled on the nearby island of Madeira. Trees blocked the sky, their roots wove the soil into a woody, tangled mat. The settlers set fire to the trees, expecting to clear only a few fields. The island burned for three years, smoldering to ashes in the valleys. They planted grapes. The wine from these grapes is rumored to be delicious.
The things we begin sometimes go awry, get strange, become something else entirely.

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