Finished Trio

Still considering titles.

Also, this:

That is all.

The Mesmerist's Daughters

Inspired by a strange dream.

Next up: seahorse skeletons and a whole lot of rodents . . .

Tiny Town

It appears that the time to mention this has arrived. I'll be displaying some prints at Red Hook on Fabric Row towards the end of the month. Come to the opening reception! I'm planning on baking lots of cupcakes, all of them vegan. Strange fillings will likely be present. Dates and times listed below:

The past few weeks have been eventful. Sara and Jason from 

Paradigm Gallery + Studio

offered me artist representation, which completely floored me. Receiving that news sent me through a spiral of emotions that I didn't know humans were capable of experiencing. I am eternally grateful/perplexed that they would consider supporting me in that sense.

I made this guy for Required Reading, Phantom Hand's latest show, at The Art Department in Fishtown:

Red Delicious, 2013. Mixed media.

SELECT Fair contacted me, and it looks like I'll be participating in their Miami event this December, at the Paradigm booth, which should be exciting. And hot. I only gained certainty regarding my ability to participate after consummating one essential task: I had to quit my job. December is insane if you work in retail, and taking the time off required for involvement in SELECT would dump a massive inconvenience on the heads of my coworkers. Sooo, I did a really crazy thing and I quit way, way in advance, so my there will be plenty of time to properly acclimate a new employee to the

 hellish, pre-holiday milieu. 

This whole thing hasn't really sunk in yet. Expect a panic-fraught delayed reaction in the near future.

Logic

So this is happening. Looks pretty exciting. I might not be able to attend the opening because of work, as usual.

Many aspects of life are currently being overshadowed by my relocation to South Philly. Beyond that, those facets of this period have seemingly been engulfed by a ravenous torrent of self-loathing. Is it right to blame the humidity? I feel like I should only be allowed to blame myself, and for that I should be grateful. That assertion might not make a lot of sense...

Moving out of one home and into another takes a lot out of a person, as if I am in fact preparing to occupy another person. Which is ridiculous.

My hope is that I will be able to return to the level of productivity I was able to consistently uphold up until approximately one month ago - the forsaking of which has induced an overall feeling of absolute woe. At the moment, I'm working on this:

Ignore that thing in the background; I am currently constructing conjoined buck skulls out of stiffened, hand-crocheted lace, which will hopefully be mounted on an intricately cut plaque of sorts. 

I just need a place to do this in peace. Sorry to complain so much.

Why...

May I Have Your Skin?

mixed media, 2013

{created for Phantom Hand's upcoming Small Talk exhibit, Philadelphia PA}

My Log Has Something To Say

Yule Log, 2013

{created for Arch Enemy Arts' forthcoming fan-culture show With Love, Your Biggest Fan}

Domicile

I'm always fascinated by the habitats and workspaces occupied by my friends and acquaintances. You can learn a lot about a person by examining the spot where she hangs her hat. Embracing the fact that I'll be moving from Chinatown to South Philly has renewed my desire to luxuriate in some neutral scrutiny regarding my own living space, which happens to be in a very old, three-story house with blood-red floors. I've occupied this structure with a rotating batch of house-mates since 2009. A lot of things have happened; would all of these occurrences, even the events of the most negligible importance, have transpired had I decided to eat and sleep in a different building way back when I was a junior in college? Maybe. Or maybe this house is cursed. Or something. I will miss this place.

Here are some photos of my bedroom, which is also my studio. It was once packed to maximum capacity with art supplies, saws, miter boxes, boxes and boxes of fabric, half open bottles of caustic substances with adhesive properties, etc. After reaching a point of absolute and unbearable discomfort, the said items have since been moved downstairs to the living room.