I found the first at a garage sale on the seedy side of town. Soon, needing more, I was haunting thrift stores, flea markets and even church bazaars. I approached a family member for help. She didn't even bat an eye at my macabre request, which may suggest that my dark imaginings are an inherited trait. She found more that were promptly subdued, strapped into unmarked boxes, and transported over state lines. Once they reached my workshop terrible things happened, things I would rather not describe.
You see, my muses once bid me to make an "art doll". I had what I thought were some terrific ideas and threw myself into the project with unbridled zeal. I collected all the raw materials, tools, supplies, and teeny-tiny props necessary. But each time I begin working on the task my initial vision expands, morphs, becomes more complicated. I cannot seem to get past the deconstruction phase on this job without changing direction or stalling out entirely. In short, I have a terrible habit of not finishing my creative projects, and this habit is what very much needs to be fixed!
3 comments:
lol great sketch/painting. I enjoyed your story also. YOu are a great writer and artist
love the sketch...poor babies...fix em!
I love this! The colors are wonderful. Maybe just a bit disturbing, but then, that might be why I like it so much.
Post a Comment