Thursday, March 13, 2008

The first of the first

I had an epiphany. A sort of horrible epiphany that starts out with love and joy and kittens and ends up as a nightmare when you realize the epiphany is going to take too much time in huddled in the F-wing of the HFAC. Alas, not a cool F-Wing. A Cool F-Wing being the type that you fly around in Star Wars. But instead, an F-Wing of the smelly hallway variety with the Graphic Designers and Photographers discussing the newest and best in Mac technology. I've already spent way too much of my life down there, but I'm going to have to go back, I guess, because of this horrible and awful epiphany that keeps materializing every time I think I'm comfortable.

Yousee, I need a website, or at least a blog. I already do have a blog. I won't tell you about it, because its all of my ramblings from Senior Year of High School until about five months ago. Horrible stuff. Sort of funny. Entirely privatized so you won't know about my premie crushes and my 30 year old crushes that never were. Oh. I actually have two blogs. There's livejournal/rachels_nsomnia.com ? I forget what the site was, but it involves rachels_nsomnia as the title and its also rediculous musings of me and my relationship with love and insomnia. Also stupid. Oh, and really bad art. I felt like I needed to post some bad art so I could stop being so scared people will think I'm bad. It made sense at the time.

Anyways, I need an art blog for good art...sort of as a portfolio boost, so I got one. I got one right now at this very moment although my computer BSOD's all over my lap like a bad child whenever I photoshop and my graphire Waccom is leaking some type of acidic virus onto my pirated Corel Painter. I got one even though its going to involve scanning crap in the F-Wing and its going to involve the second half of my epiphane--the layout and design of my own personal portfolio website and buisness card.

So here's some old stuff. Lets see if I can figure out posting. (it would be also nice to figure out cuts. In Livejournal ((oh lj)) it was called an ljcut and thats basically what the HTML was. I like cuts because otherwise freinds pages are sort of crazy.



Here's something I have around. My better work was in Tiff format, and Blogger took way too long to tell me it couldn't possibly do it. Ignore the gesso lines running through this. Ah I am a failed artist.
I have to say that at least four times a day. Its like vitamins.

Anyways, about a week ago I decided I was done with illustration. I was done. I was going back to California with my silly fiction and when it didn't sell I'd go to Santa Cruz and proceed to pull out some bongos and some weed and have a good time. And protest something.

About the same time I was planning my protest (should it be anti-fur, anti-cigarretts, or anti-war? Whats the vogue thing to protest nowadays? Nudity?) I had to do this treehouse project for a visiting artist to critique. It was the worst thing I have ever painted.

PS my name is Rachel Jones and I am an illustration Junior at BYU. I can't believe I forgot to say that. Probably because its dull and its boring and I can't post anything without four pages of description. I don't care if its an art blog. I'll figure out how to cut and no one will ever have to read it.

Back to the treehouse. The house was lame, the tree was green, the grass was green, the sky was blue, and the bark was sienna. Yes. Sienna. I sat in that critique admiring my butchered composition and cliche color pallate and I thought sweet thoughts of syncapated poetry and a future without lingerie. I felt the salt in my hair and the Pizza My Heart on my fingertips until...

...well until about two days later. Yousee, I have this horrible epiphany. I can't get rid of it. Like that boy you're in love with who has the footsmell and the pot habit and you know you can't ever date him but at the same time you accept things as they are and the footsmell and the pot habit is a vissisitude (vississisissisisistudesisisisis sp!?) of life. Truth is, it starts out as a pot habit, and then you find a new boy with a porn problem. You move on and the next loves you so little he wants you to pickle in your own tears until you're green and bumpy as the one after that can't stop wearing that awful shirt that you swore your Physics teacher wore once as a joke.

Love and Art are basically the same thing. Art starts off as a bad habit that you ignore, until you accept and then rejoice in Art and all that it will never give me. But I just can't stop art and I just can't stop falling in love with addicts and loosers with bad shoes and bad attitudes. Because, yousee, I've had a horrible epiphany. Its a lot like Marriage. Some day, one day, There'll be some guy in my life who actually likes me and is a big deal. Some day, one day, when I'm good enough to paint and not miserable about my horrible luck I can buy my own place and have my own studio. Some day, one day, someone will let me intern with them (How can you be denied by 15 people? how! I swear its impossible!) and/or Some day, One day, I will be good. Which is a big deal. Considering where I am now.

Anyways, this is officially an art blog, but because I don't use LJ anymore, this will be a justaboutanythingblog, but I promise I will not blog without posting art. I have a lot of hobbies.


By the way, what am I supposed to do with all my lj-icons. Are there no icon's here? I mean...I miss having this

describing my mood and complex personality. I have more examples here...


WOAH WOAH WOAH. Blogger can't do animations!? Are you serious? I can't post my dancing spiderman usericon!? Ah! Are you telling me I can't post that crap anymore? I mean...I spent four years collecting this crap! Now what do I do with it? Crap!

On the plus side of Blogger, because its so public, It'll help me break my random swearing habit.

ah I'm mad! animated jpgs just sit there like they were never meant to move. My poor Stagnant Spidey. I'm going to bed.

Well OK I'm not. But I'm going to be in bed and I'm going to be thinking really hard about falling asleep. it should happen.