And of course, I'm still attempting some form of personal style before I walk off the premises. I admit to being one of those women, or perhaps, THE, only woman out there who hopes my ass still looks fetching in a pair of 501 jeans. Currently I'm down to one pair that's still working for me. Buying trendy jeans is such an ordeal and I'm quite over it. I'm not 30. I'm not 40. And unlike the rest of freaking LA, I don't want to look 20 or 30 either. I'm down with holding 40-something. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
My feet couldn't take the black shoes again today. I believe it has taken me 6 years to break-in the above shoes.
The painting on the left is a work in progress. It was the one I accidentally left out overnight. Here it is pictured next to a paperback. LaRose might categorize this comparison as Syllogism.
2 comments:
Can't think of if-then principles, most look at boobs.
Crazy impossible boobs. Where is her shoulder? My god, her hair spills over those bizarre globes like they are individual heads.
I am forced to read the golden color in your painting as hair. Only for a second as it folds behind a shape. Maybe the red is a hat. A cloven Devo hat. Maybe it is on resting on a Swampthing head shaped like a chinese take out box. It never really congeals into these things but it is certainly squishing a dark marine shadow of Zippy the Pinhead.
Dang girl. . . your paintings are weird. I wonder if other people like them like I do? Flittering on the edge of a fairly esoteric vocabulary. Do you show your students your work?
Wait. . . what is "the woman that makes my other women look pale" holding onto behind her back?
To be honest, I haphazardly picked up that book for two reasons. One, scale. Two, I've been thinking about the small paintings as books or chapters. Only after I placed Little Miss Globe Hair Boob next to Painting Left Out Overnight, did I notice the uncanny resemblance.
I still have a ways to go with that painting. For all I know it could change drastically.
Nah, I don't actually show my students my work. Sometimes at the end.
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