Stuck on the words.  

Words are spinning around me in a chaotic fashion. It is both fierce and at the spend of light at times it feels like I’m trying to catch a falling star.   

Intimidated by the words that I cannot catch. 

There are times when the words get stuck on repeat and come at me over and over again. I write them and sketch, show them with those other free-falling words.  

They are spun in so many colors and there are so many options.  

The written words seem to be the hardest they are the bond of commutation and I chose the words I use so carefully with yet simple words can elude me.  

I see the words and images in all directions. Everyone else sees them left to right, but it’s not that predictable for me they come in like the rain and in all directions.  

Music slow the words down and the painting use to silence them.

Now, I am painting to catch the words.

 

What you touch yourself

What you touch yourself!?! – is the shocking response I get from men who find out that I masturbate.

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I am not sure why the expectations of masturbation are so different for woman than they are for men, but they are. Women are shamed for it or told that it’s not okay.

I figure when we encourage woman to self-explore it gives them power within their own sexual awareness.  They discover their likes and dislikes better, and if they can bring themselves to organism, they are less likely to make bad decisions when it comes to having a sexual partner.

I’m currently working on two separate paintings. One with is full of  women’s vulvas and their fingers, the working title is “self-teach” and the other is a grouping currently of two canvases with both a female and a male masturbating, the title is “Watch Me”

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The Self Touch painting is at this pointing, sitting unfinished because I am dealing with the personal shame surrounding my sexual knowledge, openness, and my exposure of my evolving work. I have let it sit on an easel while the rest of the painting presents its self to me. I’ve been reading several books Wet, A Decade of Negative Thinking, and Hot White Truth through these books I have been able to acknowledge my fears and work on furthering my path and desire for social change through both my writing and my art.

Over the weekend I was able to discuss my work and concept with a fellow artist. We discussed my new nickname and the local bar where I have been painting, which is the Pussy Painter.

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However, this nickname has created a buzz it has opened dialogue with the blue collar crowd. They have asked me very real questions about my art, my subject, and my concept as an artist. My favorite question so far has been “Are you just super horny?” No… Than a yes, accompanied by a laugh. Then I go into the theory behind my art.

We talked about the complexity of “Watch Me” that the pairing of the two makes the individual paintings stronger,  combined with the spaces I am working on these paintings, which is on the patio of a local bar makes for an added layer of complexity to the title of “Watch me”

We discussed the reasons as to why I choose to a paint these subjects in public places.

I even had a very gruff man say, although he wouldn’t seek out nude art, especially  male nudes he could say that this was a beautiful painting of a dick.

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The idea behind “watch me” stems from the trend of sexting and dating in 2017.

 

Relationships become virtual and lacks an organic connection. However, there is a sexual virtual connection between the two subjects this idea of strangers sharing this private act between one another while describing what they want the other to do to each other enhancing sexual stimulation both in their minds and genitals.  The climax is also different than masturbating alone because even though it’s self-inflected the desire was created by the interaction  and the experience was shared.  As the artist I get to a part of this intimate exchange the moment of “Watch me” and by taking out to the a public place to create it, I become the part of the subject as other strangers watch me bring out this private moment onto the canvas.  Again, it sparks conversation about self-pleasure, sharing it with others, and the most important part it opens up the conversations on sex positive.

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**all working is in progress

Trusting My Voice

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So last night I sat staring a white blank Word document with that cursor flashing and blinking. I started to write and then I hit the famous delete delete delete.

Even wrote a paragraph on parenting struggles of raising teenage boys, with my lack of male role models growing up.

I asked for some suggestions on topics to write about. I am tired of writing about my personal life, which has more to with being so publicly vulnerable than anything else.

I mean for fuck sakes, I am strong, independent women and I don’t need a relationship. Yet sometimes I want one. Maybe to reassure me that I am worth someone else time and energy.

I have multiple posts saved and waiting to be published some of them are perhaps passed the expiration date to actually post them, or they may not apply and/or were simply fleeting thoughts.

The suggestions of topics to write about were the possibilities or the idea of a parallel of universes, timeline crashing into one another, or perhaps maybe in an alternate realities where we end up with everyone we ever dated.

Would it be Blissful or would it be torturous… What would the outcome be?

What I should be working on is my book.  The one I have been privately writing for the last nine months and I am at the rewrite and editing stage. I am almost at the finish line, but multiple doubts come into play as I get closer to the final version.  You know the doubts, its like a loud judgmental voice stating “that no cares about what you have to say” or that my voice will shame the ones I love.

Fear prevents us from doing and changing…
Yet softly my inner voice says, “Lean in and trust your truth”

Doubt

I had this dream I was sitting in a room. “I don’t doubt his love for me” I say.

He says, “I don’t doubt her love for me”

A non objective person in the room says “If you don’t doubt his love and he doesn’t doubt your love, then what do the two of you doubt?” Unanimously we respond, “my capability of loving the him/her enough.”

Exploring your self

I am working on a concept about self touch and the shame associated with it. Putting out a call for women and men to send me masturbation selfies is an odd request. However, I was curious to see how many would share these intimate moments. Moments that can be empowering.

There is something incredibly intimate about painting these private moments and getting lost in the beauty of it.

*These are all preliminary paintings.

Not Sioux City

I had been so busy trying to wake myself from a nightmare that the time we were together felt like a dream come true. A dream I had let go 18  fucking years ago.

Yet, because I still love you because you are important to me,  I let you in and told you my secrets, only I watched you walk away like you did all those years ago. I am not Sioux City, but I was “the one”

The one you pulled in only to push me away after I exposed my heart. You, like most want me, but only if we can run away and pretend the real world doesn’t exist.

I was distracted by my trip, able to let you and my real life out of my head, and enjoyed myself, reconfirmed my lot in life.

As I came back to reality, you didn’t even ask if I made it home okay, you shut me out just like before. My heart will not go back into the cage, but it is bruised and its my only fault because I am too trusting and see the good in everyone.

Today, my heart is heavy because the reality is that it was just a dream and I wanted to believe it was more.

To the man that wants my heart, 

Time is not about quantity but its about the quality. I want the time we are together to have purpose and to be present in it.

I understand that you are an individual and so I am, that our togetherness will not interrupt who we are but will enhance our shared life experience.
To be in your presence will feel excitingly clam, peaceful, and tranquil. The commutation will flow with openness and honesty.

I want long walks with my hand in yours. I want us to watch the sunset and to dance during the golden hour.  I want lay in the grass and simply listening to the sounds of the world around us, while I trace your shape with my fingers.  I want to enjoy the silence and the laughter. I want you to play with my hair and rub my feet. After a long day, I want to simply sit in your presence and watch the flames dance in the fire while listening to the trees. I want us to be silly, playful, and passionate. I want hugs from behind, to be kissed on my neck and on my forehead.

When I catch you staring at me I will feel how much you love me in your gaze. When you do say I love you its because you do. I want you to know I will love you much as I love myself.  I want to be able to talk to you when I have fears that come up and for you to wipe away my tears, and to know that I don’t want you find my solution but hold me while I find it myself.

I want to you know that we are partners and that you will always walk beside me, not in front of me and not behind me.  I want you to know that when I lay in your arms its because I truely feel safe with you wrapped around me. I want you to know that as I fell asleep listening to your beating heart and your breathing, yours was the love song I was waiting to hear.

Loving you,

Shea