A Siren Sings Sweetly

Hello! It’s hot out, isn’t it?

The San Antonio Spurs lost on the feast day of Saint Anthony, which I think is very funny. I wish I could experience Knicks summer in NYC a little bit, but the reality is, I don’t want even want to leave the block I live on most days.

My sincere belief is expecting people to be productive when it’s hot like this is morally wrong. When this kind of sun touches your skin, you’re going to get stupid and sweaty no matter what. While I can think of many things to do in that state, work is not one of them.

That said, I’ve actually been pretty productive lately. Since I’ve last posted, I’ve finished writing up two notebooks I keep in my purses and transcribed another (which felt like a great relief, since I’ve been working on that since last September). Most importantly, I submitted a short fictional story to a contest.

Like I have said before, the difficulty is not in making stuff. I have a lot of stuff. For me, the difficulty is in publishing. How to I share something that is true to myself and sustains my everyday living without being subsumed by what others want from me?

Ultimately, I can only find out through my own instincts, my own pace.

Anyway, this is the epic conclusion of my kiss print series! Thank you for witnessing. While I had fun making and sharing, after a while I felt compelled to keep buying products (inadvertently in the same shades), so that’s that. Through this work, I have learned that I actually don’t want to go back to analog painting at this time, as I would have to either wear gloves or wash my hands constantly to prevent my nails from staining. That’s fine once in a while, but sounds unbearable as a consistent, everyday practice. While I do enjoy the physical act of painting, what attracts me most to oil painting is the prestige it holds, how it is undeniably considered “art.”

Is that really love?

I would say not.