Photo Diary Vol. 002

It has been so so long since I have updated. Work and balancing my social and creative life takes up so much of my time. But I am getting better, and creating so much. I have a lot of new work. A lot of new ideas and really tying to stay focused. My childlike mind makes it hard to stay on task but I am coming into my own as I reach my 27th year.

 

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Very soon, Ill launch my website, and some other new fun stuff.

-M

Sundays are for Writing Vol. 003

Happy Sunday! This week, in honor of Mother’s day, I decided to post a mini project that my mom really liked. My mother is one of my biggest supporters. She dreamed of her little girl being a nurse, like her. Instead she got this anxiety ridden artist. I couldn’t ask for a better mother. Ill dedicate this post to all mothers, living or passed on, single mothers/fathers, and anyone who is that mother figure in someones life.

-M

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Sketchbook Saturday Vol. 001

Every week, I’ll try and post some work from my sketchbook. This is just practice and dedication to bettering myself as as an abstract painter. Like my other weekly updates, they are open for feedback. Part of the reason I made this blog is to connect with other artist and show progress with my work.

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This week has been filled with lots of drama and tooth ache. I haven’t really worked much on my ‘studies’.  Last week I broke out the oil pastels and worked on blending and just trying to get comfortable using them. Youtube is my friend when it comes to learning basic techniques with oil pastels. Its not my medium of choice, but I love the vibrant colors they produce. I plan on working more with them this week.

I also worked on some line drawings. I’m working on being more free with my idea process and more open to using color. I found my old design book and been working on layering and textures, which Ill post next week.

-M

Sunday are for Writing Vol. 002

Hello, happy Sunday! I’m here again with some more writing. This week, Ill post some blackout poetry. You can read more on what it is here. This is an exercise I like to do before I start writing or editing. These are a few pages ( sorry for the bad scan job). Pages taken from the books The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum and Miracle’s Boys by Jacqueline Woodson.

-M

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Mariah Alicia – Abstract Artist

When I started college in 2008, I took a design and drawing class. I majored in Photography and felt it was pointless to take those classes. After about 2 weeks, I realized I loved to paint and that taking them did help me as a photographer. It also never crossed my mind that I could do more then just photography. Although I dropped out, I still kept those design books and kept drawing and painting.

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I was never really good at figure drawing, but I loved line work and abstract. Once I got comfortable with my art style, I move on to digital art. I get into creative slumps, more then I’d like to admit. One way I get myself out of them its to distort my original painting/drawings on an Pixlr. Its fun and a cool way to see my work in a different way.

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I also enjoy digital abstract art using my photographs as well. But I’ll make a separate post for that later. I love and admire all my friends and other artist who are skilled in more real life drawing studies. Its a gift I wish I had and tired to get into. Abstract art is more my lane, its more fitting to my style and personality. Organized madness, which I use to describe abstract art to my mother. It is also what I’d call my memoir.

-M

Sundays are for Writing Vol. 001

Every Sunday, I’ll post some of my writing. It will either be a short story, a poem, or a gang of haiku. I’ll add a place for you to leave feedback, because I want to better myself as a writer and would love to hear thoughts or suggestion to make these pieces better.

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This short story is called Girl’s House

I woke up in this girls house. My head was pounding as I walked through the halls of her house, trying to find a way out. As I stumbled about, I almost threw up on the Persian rug so I ducked in a room. Thank God for the garbage can near the door. I wipe the late night off my mouth and have a look around the room. It looks like a teenage hippie – wanna be – hipster lives in it. I look at a photo on the nightstand and see it belongs to the girl who invited me to the party. The room is empty, the golden morning illuminating the walls. I creep silently through the room, trying not to be noticed. I touch her dresser and run my fingers along the drapes. I look the posters on the wall filled with our fallen idols; Marley, Joplin, Hendrix, Lennon. I look into their eyes and wonder if they see me, see my failure. I glide across the room and feel her energy. I lie on her floor; its smells like weed and baby powder. I see a pale yellow and pink book under the bed. I grab it and open it; it’s her diary. I read the words of her life. Her old crushes and her issues with her mom. The guys who took advantage and the ones she took advantage of. Photos fall out. I look at the photos. Her smiling face in different places. The fun captured in those photographs adds to my morning nausea. I hold her life in my hands and I become envious. I want what she has. I want smiley memories and people to love me and guys to take advantage of. I want the pain she felt when her grandma died and the hurt she felt when the guy shed been dating fucked her father. I want those blurry photos on a camping trip and the happiness at the water park. I lay there, tears running down my face, wanting everything she’s had in her 21 years on this earth. My heart is hurting from the loneliness, cocaine and heavy drinking as I hear the handle turn. I push the book back under the bed and try to look asleep or dead which isn’t hard for me. I see it’s my roommate; he was looking for me so we can leave. I get up and walk down the long dark hall with him. We get outside and the sun burns my eyes and spirit. I tell him about the book. “Could have stolen it, used it against her on Facebook. She’s such a bitch but throws amazing parties.” I try to shake off the sad vibes for the ride home but it still lingers in my head.

-M