Idea!

The image is clear in my head... I know it is real because I catch this spark and it ignites, because suddenly I am no longer filled with doubt... I have these rare moments of true inspiration.

Ok, the imageit is king Kaspar opening the first drawer of the box. he is wearing a beautiful gold cloak like Klint... He's suspicious, he has a grin, he's about to unveil a world, he is going to bring back a childish spirit of curiousity. This is the man we want to listen to, know, this is the man we want to move in... there is a dark floor, a space to sit in front of him, a bright parrot, Amahl;'s crutch leading to him, no Amahl because the audience is sitting in his perspective. It's like the Death of Marat, the background is abstract dark and weary. It's night, the boy is crippled, pain, and suffering exists in this world... but in the box is a hope we all want to know.... it could also be pandora's box, but lean in, experience the treasure...

Time to work.

Molly

Beginning of a a new project

Soo I am tired... but I have a project to work on... I guess working all day wasn't helpful. I am making a poster for the play Amahl and the Night Visitors. As I looked into the play I realized I've seen it before... with my grandmother... I remember when King Jasper was showing Amahl the magic stones... I remember the excitement, and the idea of pretty stones containing magical powers... I was seven...

Now I am going to be 23... and I am not sure where my life is taking to me. I went to my college yesterday. One of my professors was smoking outside of the art building. She told me she was in the middle of class, and that this was her favorite building. I said, "yea.. it was my favorite building too..."
She said, "It was your home."

... ... ... I couldn't say it still is... the hours I spent there are logged away in my head. Hours in the studio, in class, being with my classmates, talking to my janitor friends, they're all spent. But, now there is a distance. I feel older like it was all a long time ago, but it hasn't been so. I won't say I miss it, or that I wish I could stay longer... but the more my mind lingers there... the more I want to create and be the person I wanted to be during school, and maybe I am slowly getting there

Recent work

Crime Victim's Counsel Illustration

This is a drawing I did for Chester COunty's Crime Victim's Counsel. It's alright. I feel so much better posting it now. The picture is about determing the good behaviors from the bad. Thereare five bad behaviors and six good behaviors.

ok go

I realized something in the middle of the night. Every journal I have kept writes with anxiety and fear of losing what is most important to me: art.

Journals I kept during school advise to keep going with great passion and work ethnic during the times of most gloom and uncertainty. It is very easy to give up and redirect oneself. however, getting back onto the main coarse would ruin the character I was building during school. I worked in the studio to start a foundation for my life. It's no wonder the blog is attractive to me... I am writing down the journey and keeping myself updated with my disposition. It is also a way for me to try and keep connected with my classmates, but most have long left. The most important advice my senior exhibition professor gave to our class regarded posting work on the internet "the chances of people finding your work on the internet are slim, but it has to be there."

I do not advertise my blog. Although it is important to me that is here. It is here when I need to reference my personal archive. It is here when I want to show someone my work. It is here to save images when I need copies. It's here so I can practice organizing my thoughts... it's here so I see how far off coarse I am or how far I've come.

My goal is to post my three paintings in a week. They will not be done.. but they will be worked and pushed farther so I can write about the direction. I want to use this blog to discuss my influences, and I also want to write an entry about Delacroix's journal and the autobiography I read on Manet.

My drive has returned and I feel incredible.

Serious, yet...

I showed my dad the large blood blister on my index finder. He studied it and said, "I guess they didn't teach you about hard work at college." I felt fat with education... I forgot that I was the first person from the Bair family to graduate from college. that everyone before me felt this blister, and knew how to lift.

I was lifting crates of milk. My mind was keen on my sketch book in my locker. i wanted to sketch the towers of lined up cartons stacked inside cardboard boxes... it reminded me of drawing class two years ago. When my professor threw down an emptybox in the center of the room. The spot lights spilled very dark to very feint shadows from the flimsy cardboard... the girl standing next to me said, "this is stupid why draw a cardboard box?"... "you're not looking," I said.

my dad sat at the other end of the cafe table. We both finished our grave yard shifts. On the opposite wall was a print of a bicycle. My dad looked at it and said, "I like that." The drawing looked flimsy to me. The frame was drawn with out a straight forward hand, the lines meandered and pulsated around the shape of a bicycle.
The waitress said,"The artist drew it with out ever setting his eyes on the page."
A contour, continous line drawing... The art of observation.

My dad said, "Molly, draw a bicycle for me." I stirred my coffee... I felt so removed from being an artist. My head focused on my making money... my heart set on becoming worth while.. My sketch book waiting inside a locker. Two unfinished canvases on display in my studio. I sleep by them, but I haven't touched either in weeks. I glance at them before closing the door.

continuing the lesson

I push through a 52 hour work week. When I work nights my mind is numb. It's almost as though I don't recognize I am awake and time sails by. I walk two miles home in the morning and pass out in my studio. I wake up roughly five hours later and get ready for work or enjoy two afternoons a week to myself.
There is a pride in doing this. I am paying off debts and for the first time in my life I am able to afford a car. I receognize I need to look for better jobs but I am comfortable for the next few weeks.
I got to work last night and my manager was there in the back room. She asked me why I settled for this job isn't there anything better out there? she asked me what my major in school was? My confidence shrank... I explained I had an art degree with a premed concentration, and I needed more time to figure out what I can do. She scuffed at the art degree... I couldn't defend myself I learned this. People generally have their minds made up, and unless you can show them you're worth, you are unable to persuade anyone. I put Delacroix's journal on the break table and went out on to the retail floor.
I spent the night cleaning and stocking. At five thirty in the morning I went outside to sweep the parking lot. The sun was beginning rise. CVS is located in paved shopping complew beteen two main drags in Lancaster. Car burned down the highways on either side of the parking lot. The morning was hot. I heard the calls of birds as I picked up crushed cigarettes, and spilled McDonald's bags. The first night I cleaned the parking lot I thought I saw a glimpse of American society in the trash... dirty and unhealthy lots of cigarettes and fast food. However, I recognize that I am not in a position where I can make assumptions regarding American culture... Instead I accept that cleaning the parking lot is disgusting, but listening to the birds and seeing the last glympse of the moon is a very nice feeling.