Last year, one of my nearest and dearest friends, Cristin, and I decided to throw an art show under a collective we started called UnderBelly Art. We organized the event kinda just because and kinda just to see what kind of magic we could make with some like-minded people in the city. Our first event Yards of Chinatown, although made possible through no formal plan and the most minimal of budgets, was the cat's meow! We had a weird and wonderful group of artists, performers and patrons soaking up the community love (and spiked refreshments) and adoring local art all day long.
Since this event last summer, Cristin and I have been gearing up for another summer large-scale outdoor art event, along with a slew of other strange and mystical pop-up art events for the Fall.
Our big bang summer art show, PillowTalk (with Mr.Sandman) is taking shape and drawing near (Sunday, August 12! Woo!) Right now, we're organizing our community-driven art projects that are taking place all through July in preparation for the show. As well, we are sending out a call to all artists, performers, musicians, artisans, or anyone with an inspired idea or industrious spirit to participate in the show.
The atmosphere of the concept of 'pillow talk' simply breeds conversation, so we’re asking all participants to reinterpret, redo or reenact a moment inspired by the pillow and help us transform a space in order to explore the conundrum of sleep and dream life. If you're interested in participating or would like some more information, give me a hola! firstname.lastname@example.org
You can also keep up-to-date of projects and art opportunities by liking our Facebook page. Or you can follow our every move via twitter @undrbellyoutfit
Thanks for showing interest or getting involved. Mad love!
If I said what I meant all the time I would regret it, although feel better, momentarily, before everything collapsed into hurried words and hot-headed agony. So I’m not. And I haven’t. And as you can tell by the lack of activity here, I’ve been keeping it low-key. How else am I supposed to keep you interested and consistently coming back if I’m not shrouded in a bit mystery, huh?
Essentially, I’m summing up this month-long hiatus from writing as the time I buckled napalm to my actions and reactions in order to give you something good to read--a vacation from scrutinizing thoughts and assessing behaviour and just carrying on in a reckless manner regardless if I remember how or why. You guys cool with that?
So as a 1-2-punch update: life has been a parachute opened, impossible to shove back into the case. So much has happened, started, stopped, and continues on in unknown directions. Read a little, seen a lot. I’ve sat porchside, stoopside, poolside, on the right, and wrong side of bars with my tight little clad of friendly bandits. Some of the writing work I’m doing is chomping away at my senses and poisoning my vocabulary, but then the art!…oh the art projects I’m involved in makes it feel like I’m grabbing a brick and busting through the window of whatever’s making me feel trapped—pure satisfaction.
My partner in crime is back from Scandinavia. The moon is increasingly more influential. I’m finding new nerve endings I never thought I had. The city! The city is alive and degrees away from exploding some days. I love it; but also am burgeoning in time spent out of it.
Some days are like cinematic feverous dreams, like fireworks in th eyes and swollen kisses and hallucinations that certain moments will last forever. And then there are days spent with my head in between my knees, gently rocking, trying to find balance again. Another nothing. Another something, Another summer.
I'm not going to tell you what I've been up to, I'll just let you draw your own conclusions based on these images--all of which I love and kinda sum up life these days. I know the writing has been moderate lately but I'm so enamored with all things off-line that my beloved blog has been shuffled down my list of priorities. Regular scheduled blogging and all other digital self-indulgent practices will resume soon enough. Thank you for checking in consistently regardless of the lack of updates. Love y'all.
Oh the word 'efficiency.' Bane of my existence sometimes. So often we're encouraged not to linger over ideas for too, not to slow down and ruminate. Instead it's action, reaction--hurry up and complete one task so there's time to move on to something else. What else? Anything else--the new, the now, the next.
Take your brain, fraught with all its messy smear of ideas, it's only once you let dreaming take over
to smooth out the minute details that flimsy, fragmented concepts may enter the real world. So beware creeping efficiency because if you lose the time to dream, you will eventually lose your mind.
In eight non-consecutive days this happened:
Celebrated the life and times of dear friends with a good ol'fashioned birthday bash, party hats and all.
A lot of good eating at Tennessy Willems.
Samantha Savage Smith at Raw Sugar.
Finding reasons to wear my play clothes.
Hanging out with the fearless types.
Dishing out dog pats.
Finding quiet moments during the big, bad bustle.
Participating in the 24 hour brunch that inevitability turns into a dance party.
I haven't been able to write anything in the last week. I'm too happy, which makes me too fucking complacent that I have no inspiration. Champagne problems, I know. But thinking, even for a second, that you're losing your voice is like vertigo--at least it's the lovely kind of vertigo that feels like being drunk off whiskey, but without the maddening blindness and consequential hysteria.
I've been meaning to post this forever ago but heck, better late than never. Earlier this year I was asked alongside a few other local bloggers to intrepret and create the lookbook for the very talented and very lovely Lee Ann Lacroix's newest initiative Osolee, an online jewelry shop that offers pieces with just the right amount of tough luxe.
I just so happen to love lookbooks that transcend the garment or piece and are, instead, relevant to the style or overall vibe of the brand--which is why I was so excited to be asked to be part of Osolee's launch. Each blogger was asked to represent a piece from Lee Ann's collection based on their own style. Be sure to check out the Osolee website to see the entire lookbook.
Thanks again to Lee Ann and Carolynn Lacasse for the great opportunity. x
You create your own reality. You chose how you feel about the outside world, other people.. you’re even free to chose how you feel about yourself--although, we often forget that.
You don’t have to be down today, you don’t have to be regretful of the past, you don't have to be the version of yourself that others like and you can't stand. Don't stop. Don't change. Stay beautiful. Sometimes, happiness is much simpler than we make it out to be.
images from inspiration folder
Think about it. Scratch it on paper, a napkin, the back of your hand. Let it keep you up all night. Grab the materials without thinking. Lay it out. Lap it up. Cut it. Destroy it. Mend it. Reunite everything. Peel away the layers slowly. Rip into the meaning quickly. Tag it. Scrutinize it. Hang it on your wall. Try to ignore it. Wake up in the middle of the night and look at it in the dark. Take a picture of it. Take 20 more pictures of it. Edit. Re-edit. Keep it simple. Kiss it goodbye.
That's my process in a nutshell.
That's my process in a nutshell.
|image Judit Reigl, Outburst, 1956. Metropolitan Museum of Art|
Today I was reminded of the importance of not falling in like.
Falling in like is the worst. Falling in like will lead to things such as bruised hips, sleepless nights and hallucinations of a marching band passing through my head.
Sure, it’s poetic but it’s also exposing. Falling in like leads to saying things I mean but shouldn't say. And I need control.
So here's the problem: do I let myself continue to fall helplessly in like, or do I start to sabotage it and slowly pick at it like a scab? Or what's worse--do I even get to choose--will I find myself potentially ruining something because I lack the willpower not to? Or will I tear it apart little by little just to beat him to the punch?
This is not a cute dilemma. This is something that is going to end in a rich flavor of hell.
Cue the marching band. Cue the blurry vision and careless decision making. We’ll leave the sabotage-talk for another late night as I contemplate the ins and outs of hour-long kisses and gazes that singe my lashes.