new posts in all blogs
Viewing Blog: Creepymama, Most Recent at Top
Results 26 - 50 of 90
M. Stagi a.k.a Creepymama resides in California works a full-time job while raising four fiendlings and scribbles/writes in the wee hours. Her artwork has been noted as disturbing yet cute. Unapologetic, unvarnished truth spills out her pen about her chaotic life often - just beware! Purchasing copies of her art pleases her. However, if you'd like an original piece - please feel free to send her message via bat, esp or email.
Statistics for Creepymama
Number of Readers that added this blog to their MyJacketFlap: 1
By:
Creepymama,
on 6/11/2012
Blog:
Creepymama
(
Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags:
mstagi,
stagi,
kids,
writing,
illustrations,
mom,
parenting,
etsy,
babies,
potty-training,
Add a tag
I should have known something was up. My hairdryer blew out three weeks ago. Little did I know the heinous fuckery the universe had in store for me. My thoughtful husband then replaced it two weeks later. In the mean time, my friend Jodie, in all her coiffed-ness, said, "You're killing me."
But I thought, eh, no big deal, it was just the hairdryer.
Oh, no, it wasn't just the hairdryer. All my appliances began to hate me. It was like they all decided to have a PMS day. The day I started using my new hair dryer, the garbage disposal took a turn for the worse. It started leaking and I swear I head it cry, "OMG! You expect me to crush this!! After all those things I've done for you, the leftover salad dregs, no, this is NOT HAPPENING!"
I got it Midol and a glass of Merlot.
"NO! I WILL NOT BE BOUGHT OFF! YOU LET THAT LITTLE CHEAP HARLOT DRY YOUR HAIR! WHY NOT ME? WHY???"
I was a little worried. But I'm from a family of do it yourselfers (mostly in the form of duct tape and hot glue) and I thought. 'Yeah, I can handle that.' I armed myself with my tools and the internet, intent on fixing our little problem. Two hours later, we still couldn't get the damn thing off the sink. I disabled the right side of the sink to the kids and decided to tackle it later. Turned out to be one week later, but I finally got to tackle it on Saturday morning, I started my laundry first and BOOM! The washer has a bitch fit. "FUCK YOU! BLANKETS? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!?!?! I'M BLOATED AND FAT AND YOU GIVE ME FUCKING BLANKETS! WHERE IS THE GODDAMN MERLOT?"
Water is all over. Three hours and three floods later, I realize the moisture sensor is bad. Okay, we can replace that. Easy! Oh yeah, maybe I can pick up the part tomorrow in San Jose when I go see my parents and drop off two of my four children to hang for a couple of days. They are an hour and half away, just enough distance and time for me to miss them without feeling guilty.
When I get up the following morning, I discover my Tia Maria has arrived and the athlete's foot I'm fighting (thanks kids! ah, the joys of parenthood) is almost unbearable. As I'm driving, guess what? The car is in on it too! "BITCH, YOU THINK I'M JUST GONNA LET YOU DRIVE ME ALL OVER? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO MY TREADS? I JUST GOT THESE BITCHES AND YOU'RE GIVING ME HOOKER HOOVES! HELL NO! GET ME A CHOCOLATE BAR NOW!"
By the time I chug to my parents' house, the kids are ready to flee the scene before some bad shit goes down. Except for Pottymouth, he's probably got a video camera and can't wait to post Mommy's meltdown on YouTube.
My mother took one look at me, saw the steam from my ears and I blurt out everything to her and she says, "We can fix that. No sweat. I think I have an extra garbage disposal. Are you going to the doctor? You should go for the foot thing."
Yeah, my parents are those parents. They are not hoarders exactly, more like an orphanage for Home Depot. Not in a bad way, they don't keep everything, some appliances go to good homes and a few are adopted by Brangelina (it must be genetic, I have an extra dryer in my garage).
My dad pops in and say, "No, I think I have a new garbage disposal still in the box. What foot thing?"
They even have an extra washer. Not that I need one and I decline, but I'm more concerned about my bitch trippi
I should have known something was up. My hairdryer blew out three weeks ago. Little did I know the heinous fuckery the universe had in store for me. My thoughtful husband then replaced it two weeks later. In the mean time, my friend Jodie, in all her coiffed-ness, said, "You're killing me."
But I thought, eh, no big deal, it was just the hairdryer.
Oh, no, it wasn't just the hairdryer. All my appliances began to hate me. It was like they all decided to have a PMS day. The day I started using my new hair dryer, the garbage disposal took a turn for the worse. It started leaking and I swear I head it cry, "OMG! You expect me to crush this!! After all those things I've done for you, the leftover salad dregs, no, this is NOT HAPPENING!"
I got it Midol and a glass of Merlot.
"NO! I WILL NOT BE BOUGHT OFF! YOU LET THAT LITTLE CHEAP HARLOT DRY YOUR HAIR! WHY NOT ME? WHY???"
I was a little worried. But I'm from a family of do it yourselfers (mostly in the form of duct tape and hot glue) and I thought. 'Yeah, I can handle that.' I armed myself with my tools and the internet, intent on fixing our little problem. Two hours later, we still couldn't get the damn thing off the sink. I disabled the right side of the sink to the kids and decided to tackle it later. Turned out to be one week later, but I finally got to tackle it on Saturday morning, I started my laundry first and BOOM! The washer has a bitch fit. "FUCK YOU! BLANKETS? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!?!?! I'M BLOATED AND FAT AND YOU GIVE ME FUCKING BLANKETS! WHERE IS THE GODDAMN MERLOT?"
Water is all over. Three hours and three floods later, I realize the moisture sensor is bad. Okay, we can replace that. Easy! Oh yeah, maybe I can pick up the part tomorrow in San Jose when I go see my parents and drop off two of my four children to hang for a couple of days. They are an hour and half away, just enough distance and time for me to miss them without feeling guilty.
When I get up the following morning, I discover my Tia Maria has arrived and the athlete's foot I'm fighting (thanks kids! ah, the joys of parenthood) is almost unbearable. As I'm driving, guess what? The car is in on it too! "BITCH, YOU THINK I'M JUST GONNA LET YOU DRIVE ME ALL OVER? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO MY TREADS? I JUST GOT THESE BITCHES AND YOU'RE GIVING ME HOOKER HOOVES! HELL NO! GET ME A CHOCOLATE BAR NOW!"
By the time I chug to my parents' house, the kids are ready to flee the scene before some bad shit goes down. Except for Pottymouth, he's probably got a video camera and can't wait to post Mommy's meltdown on YouTube.
My mother took one look at me, saw the steam from my ears and I blurt out everything to her and she says, "We can fix that. No sweat. I think I have an extra garbage disposal. Are you going to the doctor? You should go for the foot thing."
Yeah, my parents are those parents. They are not hoarders exactly, more like an orphanage for Home Depot. Not in a bad way, they don't keep everything, some appliances go to good homes and a few are adopted by Brangelina (it must be genetic, I have an extra dryer in my garage).
My dad pops in and say, "No, I think I have a new garbage disposal still in the box. What foot thing?"
They even have an extra washer. Not that I need one and I decline, but I'm more concerned about my bitch tripping car. By the end of the day, my car is fixed, I'm driving home with two garbage disposals and some steaks, because I think, according to my dad, meat will also fix everything. My father gives me a hug and I'm grateful that he thinks meat will fix everything - I really didn't want to cook dinner.
If you'd like to see more of Creepymama's artwork, please visit her and her sister, Olivia the Dollmaker at :
StagiWorks
By:
Creepymama,
on 6/6/2012
Blog:
Creepymama
(
Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags:
creepymama,
mstagi,
projectstockpile,
olivia jones,
cartoons,
art,
parenting,
toddlers,
babies,
patterns,
potty-training,
Add a tag
The time-honored rite of parenthood know as potty-training is upon us! I am heading towards potty-training my last child, it's been years, but teaching a little human how to use the facilities is no small feat. Beefy hasn't been too interested in going himself, but he seems to be investigating how my husband pees, how I pee, how his brothers pee, how to flush the toilet and even better, what can I flush down the toilet? He's even telling us when he's done the dirty deed, "POOP!!!!!"
But has no interest in actually sitting on the can, that might take some time out from stealing crayons from Marc's craft desk. However, my sister is starting to teach my nephew the glories of the john and I just giggle, because this is her first round. I've been through three kids, the first is always the hardest. My oldest took awhile, but my second found the pee-glee of pissing on the tree in the backyard. It wasn't until I found a massive poop in the backyard (we had no dog) that I had to reign him in and explain the poop rules. The following is the text messages we've been having about it:
Violet: Potty training: 2 accidents so far, I think by the end of this the whole house will smell like pee.
Me: Rocky and E-man can compete to mark territory.
Violet: HAHAHA
Violet: Potty Training lesson I learned today: Take to potty right after dinner. Big poop and pee in his pants. I feel like a dummy for not thinking of this.
Me: Rookie! hahahahaa
Violet: LOL! I just spent 5 minutes pouring water on his wiener to get him to pee in the toilet. This is my life.
Me: Please lock this message so u can remember it fondly.
Violet: I will
Me: The one thing I hated was when you had to cut them off of juice by a certain time of night. They always acted like they just got back from the Sahara.
Violet: LMAO!!!
0 Comments on Where's the potty?!? as of 1/1/1900
The time-honored rite of parenthood know as potty-training is upon us! I am heading towards potty-training my last child, it's been years, but teaching a little human how to use the facilities is no small feat. Beefy hasn't been too interested in going himself, but he seems to be investigating how my husband pees, how I pee, how his brothers pee, how to flush the toilet and even better, what can I flush down the toilet? He's even telling us when he's done the dirty deed, "POOP!!!!!"
But has no interest in actually sitting on the can, that might take some time out from stealing crayons from Marc's craft desk. However, my sister is starting to teach my nephew the glories of the john and I just giggle, because this is her first round. I've been through three kids, the first is always the hardest. My oldest took awhile, but my second found the pee-glee of pissing on the tree in the backyard. It wasn't until I found a massive poop in the backyard (we had no dog) that I had to reign him in and explain the poop rules. The following is the text messages we've been having about it:
Violet: Potty training: 2 accidents so far, I think by the end of this the whole house will smell like pee.
Me: Rocky and E-man can compete to mark territory.
Violet: HAHAHA
Violet: Potty Training lesson I learned today: Take to potty right after dinner. Big poop and pee in his pants. I feel like a dummy for not thinking of this.
Me: Rookie! hahahahaa
Violet: LOL! I just spent 5 minutes pouring water on his wiener to get him to pee in the toilet. This is my life.
Me: Please lock this message so u can remember it fondly.
Violet: I will
Me: The one thing I hated was when you had to cut them off of juice by a certain time of night. They always acted like they just got back from the Sahara.
Violet: LMAO!!!
Me: Or the innocent face when you ask them, and they clearly smell like shit, "Did you wipe?"
The Not Me's
Beware! Be on the look out for these evil little creatures! They are sneaky, devious and very destructive. Kill immediately upon discovery.
Signs you have the Not Me's:
They leave underwear on the floor, socks stuck in the vacuum cleaner, love to blow things up in the microwave, jelly & crumbs on every kitchen counter, leave school bags by the front door, track dirt in, stuff soggy food in small appliances, the cat is painted and glittered on a seasonal basis. I've asked my children repeatedly about these things and apparently, they can't see them either. If you'd like to see more of my artwork, please visit
StagiWorks.
The Not Me's
Beware! Be on the look out for these evil little creatures! They are sneaky, devious and very destructive. Kill immediately upon discovery.
Signs you have the Not Me's:
They leave underwear on the floor, socks stuck in the vacuum cleaner, love to blow things up in the microwave, jelly & crumbs on every kitchen counter, leave school bags by the front door, track dirt in, stuff soggy food in small appliances, the cat is painted and glittered on a seasonal basis. I've asked my children repeatedly about these things and apparently, they can't see them either. If you'd like to see more of my artwork, please visit
StagiWorks.
Isn't she funny? I'd like to think when I'm this old and crochety, I'll still be stylin' with a cool purse.
It's funny how one word will draw itself in my head.....you also see it at
StagiWorks
It's funny how one word will draw itself in my head.....you also see it at
StagiWorks
My sister Violet inspired this piece, it's one of favorites. I always pictured the extreme glee she must take in giving obnoxious children shots. Blithely ignorant of her blood-spattered smock, she gives them leeches or vile-smelling brew made with some rodent part as a cure for something as minor as a splinter.
I know for a fact her job is not this exciting, but I like to use my imagination.
Come see this work and others at our shop:
StagiWorks
I was standing there in the little chapel, it was burning hot, my sunburn was killing me, the kids were quiet and my poor fiancé is there next to me and we're trying hard not to laugh - the ministers' nose had a booger flying in and out as he spoke. My poor fiancé was severely hung over, thanks to his friends, Gerry, Mo and Martin (love you fuckers!), samsonites hanging from under his eyes. I was thinking, "Holy shit he's actually doing it! He picked me!"
We went with a Hawaiian shirt theme because Ronnie wanted to get married in shorts.
His mother cried the whole time.
Then we were married, boogers and all.
The rest of the weekend went great, then the day we left, Ronnie was off with his buddies, I was with my evil little fiends. We were walking along the main drag, I stopped to look at a menu in front of some grand hotel that had a huge rock feature in the front. A woman walking behind me said, "What's that little boy doing?"
Oh shit.
I look and Marc (six at the time) was standing on the top of the rock feature, pants down, facing traffic, pissing on the water. More than a few people were giggling. I hauled him off there and explained the rules of urinating outside.
Our house may never be clean, the laundry never done and there's always some crazy boy funk. Glad you love it honey! Happy 4th anniversary honey!
I was standing there in the little chapel, it was burning hot, my sunburn was killing me, the kids were quiet and my poor fiancé is there next to me and we're trying hard not to laugh - the ministers' nose had a booger flying in and out as he spoke. My poor fiancé was severely hung over, thanks to his friends, Gerry, Mo and Martin (love you fuckers!), samsonites hanging from under his eyes. I was thinking, "Holy shit he's actually doing it! He picked me!"
We went with a Hawaiian shirt theme because Ronnie wanted to get married in shorts.
His mother cried the whole time.
Then we were married, boogers and all.
The rest of the weekend went great, then the day we left, Ronnie was off with his buddies, I was with my evil little fiends. We were walking along the main drag, I stopped to look at a menu in front of some grand hotel that had a huge rock feature in the front. A woman walking behind me said, "What's that little boy doing?"
Oh shit.
I look and Marc (six at the time) was standing on the top of the rock feature, pants down, facing traffic, pissing on the water. More than a few people were giggling. I hauled him off there and explained the rules of urinating outside.
Our house may never be clean, the laundry never done and there's always some crazy boy funk. Glad you love it honey! Happy 4th anniversary honey!
Spent a wonderful weekend with my kids, my mother as the husband went galavanting around with
his man-friends in Vegas. I was so exhausted. My mom is hilarious and up for almost anything. I can only hope to be that fun when I get older.
Of course there is some residual tiredness from dealing with the fiends for four days by myself. I woke up today just a little cranky and some teenager decided to give me attitude this morning.
The older I get, the more I don't give a damn. I don't care that you didn't have clean clothes to wear, you are going to school! You do your own laundry for crying out loud!
What? You want five bucks to go hang with your friends? Does it say ATM on my forehead?
Dinner? Are you serious?!
Please lord, bless me with the patience to survive the teens!!!
Spent a wonderful weekend with my kids, my mother as the husband went galavanting around with
his man-friends in Vegas. I was so exhausted. My mom is hilarious and up for almost anything. I can only hope to be that fun when I get older.
Of course there is some residual tiredness from dealing with the fiends for four days by myself. I woke up today just a little cranky and some teenager decided to give me attitude this morning.
The older I get, the more I don't give a damn. I don't care that you didn't have clean clothes to wear, you are going to school! You do your own laundry for crying out loud!
What? You want five bucks to go hang with your friends? Does it say ATM on my forehead?
Dinner? Are you serious?!
Please lord, bless me with the patience to survive the teens!!!
Goldilocks and the Three Hairs
She should have chosen truth,
instead of dare.
Now all she has left
is three hairs.
Lesson: Don't play with matches.
Mary had a little Sam
Only his face would show
Everywhere Mary went,
her twin was sure to go.
This one I couldn't get the image out of my head. I'm glad I did. Now you can have it.
Goldilocks and the Three Hairs
She should have chosen truth,
instead of dare.
Now all she has left
is three hairs.
Lesson: Don't play with matches.
Mary had a little Sam
Only his face would show
Everywhere Mary went,
her twin was sure to go.
This one I couldn't get the image out of my head. I'm glad I did. Now you can have it.
My husband thinks he's the king. He refers to our house as Changovia (his nickname is Chango) and I am his queen. The three older boys are the Jesters and the Prince of Changovia is two. The kingdom was quiet and somewhat serene, as much as it could be with so many jesters and their cohorts trampling through the castle, when the universe came along and said,
"Fuck it, you're IT!"
Several things are happening at a rapid pace - the prince is starting to realize his evil toddler power with the word "MINE!" It he can reach it, grab it, eat it or break it, it's his!!!!
MWUAHAHAHAA....
The head jester, Type A is worried about graduating 8th grade - "OMG Mom, I have all A's and one D!!! Will they let me graduate?"
I roll my royal eyes. "Don't sweat it. You're fine."
My dainty 8 year old jester is just concerned about what outfit he will wear for the day and who gives a damn about division? "Does this make me look fat?"
"No, it's fine." His day-glow yellow shoes make me cringe, but he loves them.
Pottymouth is a hot royal mess right now. The universe went and started puberty (wtf! I wasn't ready!), therefore the King and Queen of Changovia are having to do the royal smack down more often than usual. Then this ugly, ugly little wart of problem popped up.
My ex-husband.
If I had a dragon, I'd totally sick it on this moron. The bottom line is he's not involved. Occassionally during his criminal enterprises he remembers he has kids and calls them. There are several layers of suckitude about the situation and for the most part, Pottymouth is the one affected the most emotionally by it all. We nurse him through his down times and let him know we love him. Puberty is not helping - but we are all sucking it up and dealing.
The King of Changovia and I decided to deal with the situation the best we know how and are moving forward in that direction for the best interests of the kids. I am astounded and grateful the King of Changovia just accepts the Jesters as his own and has no qualms about hugging them and telling them, "Hell no you can't have Rock Star at 9pm! It's a school night."
My husband thinks he's the king. He refers to our house as Changovia (his nickname is Chango) and I am his queen. The three older boys are the Jesters and the Prince of Changovia is two. The kingdom was quiet and somewhat serene, as much as it could be with so many jesters and their cohorts trampling through the castle, when the universe came along and said,
"Fuck it, you're IT!"
Several things are happening at a rapid pace - the prince is starting to realize his evil toddler power with the word "MINE!" It he can reach it, grab it, eat it or break it, it's his!!!!
MWUAHAHAHAA....
The head jester, Type A is worried about graduating 8th grade - "OMG Mom, I have all A's and one D!!! Will they let me graduate?"
I roll my royal eyes. "Don't sweat it. You're fine."
My dainty 8 year old jester is just concerned about what outfit he will wear for the day and who gives a damn about division? "Does this make me look fat?"
"No, it's fine." His day-glow yellow shoes make me cringe, but he loves them.
Pottymouth is a hot royal mess right now. The universe went and started puberty (wtf! I wasn't ready!), therefore the King and Queen of Changovia are having to do the royal smack down more often than usual. Then this ugly, ugly little wart of problem popped up.
My ex-husband.
If I had a dragon, I'd totally sick it on this moron. The bottom line is he's not involved. Occassionally during his criminal enterprises he remembers he has kids and calls them. There are several layers of suckitude about the situation and for the most part, Pottymouth is the one affected the most emotionally by it all. We nurse him through his down times and let him know we love him. Puberty is not helping - but we are all sucking it up and dealing.
The King of Changovia and I decided to deal with the situation the best we know how and are moving forward in that direction for the best interests of the kids. I am astounded and grateful the King of Changovia just accepts the Jesters as his own and has no qualms about hugging them and telling them, "Hell no you can't have Rock Star at 9pm! It's a school night."
I woke up at 5 this morning after a particularly odd dream in which a friend and I went to a flea market and I made him buy me a red coin purse. It had a silver coin with Robert Kennedy on it hidden in the lining. Then we realized we were on break from work, we were really late and his three year old was driving us back.
I have no idea what the hell that means.
However, I did notice everyone was out cold at that hour and I had the house to myself!
Off to my desk with ample supply of coffee and music, I continued my foray into fucking up nursery rhymes. I am currently on the search to do one that will take two to five pages, but I haven't found any that have really have taken a stab at my twisted soul. I've begun work on two other pieces which I hope everyone will find fun and amusingly creepy....should you see a nursery rhyme or myth or have a fun little antedote in which there is some dismembering or maiming, please feel free to write me....
I woke up at 5 this morning after a particularly odd dream in which a friend and I went to a flea market and I made him buy me a red coin purse. It had a silver coin with Robert Kennedy on it hidden in the lining. Then we realized we were on break from work, we were really late and his three year old was driving us back.
I have no idea what the hell that means.
However, I did notice everyone was out cold at that hour and I had the house to myself!
Off to my desk with ample supply of coffee and music, I continued my foray into fucking up nursery rhymes. I am currently on the search to do one that will take two to five pages, but I haven't found any that have really have taken a stab at my twisted soul. I've begun work on two other pieces which I hope everyone will find fun and amusingly creepy....should you see a nursery rhyme or myth or have a fun little antedote in which there is some dismembering or maiming, please feel free to write me....
I look for signs to keep me on my path because sometimes I tend to get a little crazy with some ideas. This is the downfall sometimes with a creative mind. I've been contemplating this little love story, wondering if it's worth doing. I have a notebook filled with names, stories, ideas, sketches, etc. While this is going on, I agreed to throw a little love at our entrepid editor at Under The Juniper Tree because she's the goddamn bomb for putting all our horrific skills to the test monthly when I realized, I really didn't know much about her.
However, the universe provided in the form of of mutual disgust for Lori from the Walking Dead.
This is my love to Bree who makes us all look good and doesn't mind slicing someone's head off. Bree said she loved it! I love when people love my stuff - all artists love it!
During my contemplation of what to paint for Bree, inspiration smacked me again. Was it worth doing? And I think, if I don't travel down this road, I won't learn anything. Just paint it! It'll be fun! So while my evil co-worker at my 9 to 5 job, Ray and I were laughing over some wicked work by Gris Grimly - the Grimified Popeye - and I couldn't get this out of my mind. Emo Olive Oil.
Gris is my favorite artist, hands down. I posted this on his FB, and got two comments from him today. I can only hope to be as good someday. So I'm dancing around the living room like a crazy person - Beefy is laughing and dancing with me (he doesn't care, Mom is happy!) while my husband is looking at me because he knows and is suffering right along with me artistically. I am over the moon.
I think it was the sign - the little love story in my head might be worth doing....
I look for signs to keep me on my path because sometimes I tend to get a little crazy with some ideas. This is the downfall sometimes with a creative mind. I've been contemplating this little love story, wondering if it's worth doing. I have a notebook filled with names, stories, ideas, sketches, etc. While this is going on, I agreed to throw a little love at our entrepid editor at Under The Juniper Tree because she's the goddamn bomb for putting all our horrific skills to the test monthly when I realized, I really didn't know much about her.
However, the universe provided in the form of of mutual disgust for Lori from the Walking Dead.
This is my love to Bree who makes us all look good and doesn't mind slicing someone's head off. Bree said she loved it! I love when people love my stuff - all artists love it!
During my contemplation of what to paint for Bree, inspiration smacked me again. Was it worth doing? And I think, if I don't travel down this road, I won't learn anything. Just paint it! It'll be fun! So while my evil co-worker at my 9 to 5 job, Ray and I were laughing over some wicked work by Gris Grimly - the Grimified Popeye - and I couldn't get this out of my mind. Emo Olive Oil.
Gris is my favorite artist, hands down. I posted this on his FB, and got two comments from him today. I can only hope to be as good someday. So I'm dancing around the living room like a crazy person - Beefy is laughing and dancing with me (he doesn't care, Mom is happy!) while my husband is looking at me because he knows and is suffering right along with me artistically. I am over the moon.
I think it was the sign - the little love story in my head might be worth doing....
Here's one I did years ago - love it to this day. Click to visit the site for a copy.
Here's one I did years ago - love it to this day. Click to visit the site for a copy.
Time sucks for me as an artist. I work a full time job, I am a wife, I have four kids and I am an artist. I have very little time to actually paint. My work surface is covered in sketch after sketch of the cartoons I have in my head. Realistically, I only get to be creative an hour a weeknight (depending on homework, chores or some kid-related drama) and a good four hour block on the weekends. If I really push myself I can knock out two paintings a week. So, I did this piece for Under the Juniper Tree and discovered one thing.
It sucked balls.
I had an idea pop in my head and thought, yep, that'll work. I focused on one thing about the story I was illustrating and went with it. I struggled with damn thing for week, finishing it on the due date and realizing, it was crap. There was no way I could email this to my editor, she'd laugh then wipe her behind with it. After all that work, I scrapped it. I sat down, read the story again and found a new angle - bam! Two or three hours later, I had finished this:
I love it. I emailed it a day late, but it was much better than the first. It was totally worth it. I was racing the clock, but I thought, the editor would rather have a nice piece late than a piece of shit on time. Yes, it took more time and I could've just let it go, but I'm glad I didn't. This is a creative expression and that sometimes will take you longer than you think. I look forward to your thoughts on the picture...hope you love it as much as I do.
It is available at Stagi Works, just click on the picture and it will take you straight there...
View Next 25 Posts
It's bad enough to hear profanity, .... now I am reading it. This is the reason I don't care for face book. PROFANITY IS AN EXCUSE FOR A PERSON THAT HAS RUN OUT OF IDEAS, AND CAN'T FIND WORDS TO EXPRESS THEMSELVES PROPERLY. I like this site, and get some good ideas from it. Maybe an english teacher artist could give you some pointers on proper speech.