How Have I Offended Thee? Let me count the ways?

Poppies

Inkjet print, 2011

 

 

 



 

Three Eyes

Inkjet print, 2011

 

 

How have I Offended Thee?

Let Me Count the Ways

 

OMG!  My art is offensive!  OMG!  Offensive, tacky, scary and embarrassing.  Incomprehensive, seemingly pointless.  It goes beyond the boundaries of good taste.  People are frightened.  My family is embarrassed. They are afraid that their friends will find out about me.  I have heard thinly veiled suggestions regarding medication.  There are some twists in my artistic path that are shocking.  Frightening!  It seems that I have not only offended the Christians;  New Agers and atheist also beg to differ. Dog lovers, dog haters and compulsive shoppers are avoiding me.

 Everyone else is just laughing.  Laughing at me or with me?

I am so sorry.  I apologize if I have offended you.  No offense was intended.  May I offer an explanation?  I have art brain.  This is a poorly documented anomaly of human neuroanatomy.  It is a disease, recognized by very few doctors.  Symptoms include lack of boundaries and an ineffective inner brain editor which leads to inappropriate behavior.  Please pardon me, the devil made me do it.

Actually, my Muse made me do it.  If I don't follow her she pouts and goes away.  She requires free range.  Without her, I get artist block.  Without her, yes, I could paint and write, but it would be boring.
 

Oh, Yea!  Take a look.  Beware, art may scramble your brain.  And you may not like that, because it makes you think.  It is a challenge.  It may shock you out of the doldrums. Shake up complacency.



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 Office of Reason and Good Sense
333 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC

                                                                                                                                        

Dear Janet, 

There are some things that we need to discuss.  I am trying to help you to be successful, I am taking my valuable time to speak to you for your own good. 
 

First of all, a little alliteration is nice, but too much repetition is just annoying.  Hyperbole has its place, but please, do tone the exaggeration down.  And irony?  Irony is tricky,  some people don't get it when you write the opposite of you intend to communicate.   So, please refrain from irony.  Are you actually aiming to convince people that you are crazy? Or, is that just an accidental effect?

 

Throw "cute" in the trash.  How do you expect people to take you seriously when your so called "work" is just too cute?

 

Most Important!  For Gods sake, stay away from religion and spirituality.  No one really cares and you don't know what you are talking about. 
 

 Don't you remember?  Two gallery curators, the people that can help you exhibit your work, have rejected your pictures because of the twisted religious aspects.  Are you listening?   If you want to be recognized as an artist, then you need to have broad appeal.  They told you, two influential taste makers told you,  "We like the pop art, but not the religious pictures."

You are doing it all wrong!

 

Stick to light and fluffy.  You can make "nice pictures",  people want to be reassured.

You must be consistent, find a pretty style and stick to it. No one knows what to expect from you.  Changing styles every few years doesn't work.

 

I know, you are confused.  Is that your tag line now?  Listen up.   Being confused is not a good way to brand yourself.   Don't embarrass your self.

 

I don't want to tell you these things again.  You are bright.  Listen up.  The annual evaluation is coming up.  So study the guidelines, and follow the rules.

 

Sincerely yours,

The Voice of Reason

 

 

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Lets Paint

Conspiracy of the Gods

 

I am working on a picture and story of Prometheus, Bringer of Fire. Prometheus is an ancient Greek Celebrity.   The working title is,  Conspiracy of the Gods, "Prometheus Tells All". 

 

Red Hot News!  See the exclusive Natural Inquirer interview with Prometheus,  The Bringer of Light.  The WakiLeaks whistle blower will explain the devious behavior of the Gods.  He exposes the ancient conspiracy to keep fire from humankind.
 

 

         

How Have I Offended Thee

part two

 

 

That writing that I did, the "Lets Gossip Barbie", was over the top.  It offended Christians, New Agers, and the complacent majority with it's subversive insinuations.  There was a lot of silly sex.  But I think that the most material that caused the most offense, had to do with compulsive shopping, which, along with dissing dogs, maybe a TABOO subject. 
  

ART is a vast planet, with rivers and mountains and forests, there are mysterious, unexplored regions.

 

I invite you to journey with me off of the map.  I want to help you open your mind, help you be the driver of your own life.  I want to scramble your preconceived notions.  Question the architecture of your belief system.  Don't forget to pack your sense of humor.

My work uses surrealistic art references to access the unconscious.  The unconscious parts of our brain have a huge influence on our behavior.  Perhaps, by making the irrational visible, we may come to know ourselves better.  If your brain is scrambled, maybe you will put it back together, maybe, you will reevaluate your thought processes, and be better than ever.  

Oh, yea!  I hope that it upsets your programing.  Believe it or not, you have been programmed.  All that stuff that school taught you?  Much of it is just crap, wrong.  Did you go to church?  You are really programmed.

 You have watched a hundred jillion advertisements, all intended to make you feel inadequate, an inadequacy that only expensive products can allegedly soothe.  All intending to program you into being a good little consumer. 

You have been molded into a cog for the consumer culture, a huge machine that makes stockholders rich.  And, puts you in debt so that you are slaved to a shit job.  Think about it, darling.

(I do recognize some boundaries, for instance I will not urinate on religious icons, like the most successful living artist of the day did. Damien Hirst used shock tactics to jump start his career.  I may be irreverent, but I do not want to be seriously inconsiderate to the people who have found some comfort in religion.)

12/9/13  
I was reading over this blog today and recognized a mistake.  Damien Hirst did not make the "Piss Jesus" art work, Andres Serrano made it in 1987.  Damien Hirst floated a dissected baby calf and a zebra in formaldehyde.  The similar offenses here are the source of my mistake.
 

 

In these words and pictures, that I post online, I most sincerely hope to communicate from my consciousness to your consciousness. Bypass the rational and communicate directly brain to brain. I color out of the lines of social constrictions to irreverently and subversively, challenge you to think for yourself.

 

OK, well, that is an overly ambitious goal.  Maybe, this is just a bunch of bull shit that I have made up to entertain myself. Whatever!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Gidget, Gadget and Gizmo

 

Gidget, Gadget and Gizmo

digital painting, print, 8/2013

 

 

 

Gidget, Gadget and Gizmo, these words kept chanting in my mind, replacing the CEO approved mantra that I intended to chant.  So, I made a picture of this silly trio.

 

POP Religion

The POP Religion show that was scheduled for 9/14/13, has been postponed.  We are working on a new date and venue.  I am disappointed to postpone the show, but good things are in the works.

 

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Last week we had a wonderful family beach vacation at Gulf Shores.  Much of the peninsula is protected park reserve, so we saw a lot of wild life.

 

Here is the wildlife sighting list:

 

Eagle! Perched high in a pine tree, then it flew away on mighty wings.

pelicans, blue herons, comic sand pipers, humming birds, gulls

dolphins

shark

one sting ray and two manta rays with six foot span

jelly fish

etc. , so forth and so on

rich nature

 

 

 

I have been so lucky to vacation at Gulf Shores since I was a kid and my uncle had a cabin there. 

 

Returning there at intervals has been a high light of my life.  I still play in the surf. 

 

 

A memory cherished.  I, the child, immersed in the boundless water, rocked by the surf.  Joy, nerve tingling joy, leaping in the ocean,  playing with my sisters and cousins. Sun so bright, bathed in light.  Enlightenment.

 

Also, I distinctly remember, the seventh and most powerful waves.  I, the child me, tumbled tail over head, in the turbulence.  Legs scraped by the sand.  Beach pizza legs.

 

Sleeping, big family snoring, windows open, in the surf song night.  The child tossing, sleep disturbed by sunburn lacerated with sand.  Misery.

 

Next morning, return to the rocking waters, joy, ecstasy, outweighing misery.

 

 

 

This last week they, the family, told me not to swim in the Gulf.  "Beware of sharks, stingrays and jellyfish!"  Sandy sunburn did not stop me then, these sea dwelling creatures will not keep me away now.

 

My mature adult sensitivities are different than childish nirvana.  But, floating and swimming in the waves,  I get a small taste, a faded reminder, of how it felt to be young and holistically immersed in a peak experience. 

 

 

The last day Dave and I walked the western tip of the Gulf Shores peninsula. Where the Mobile Bay and the Gulf meet. Waters there form a rich ecological zone, where currents collide and churn the water.  We dodged blobs of stranded jelly fish on the shore. 

 

That west tip must be the best shore fishing spot around, because fisher people were there with colorful day camp carts, coolers, striped umbrellas, cell phones, lines and bait.  We chatted with the fishers,  "You catch anything?" they were delighted to show the creatures that they caught.  A twenty five pound black drum;  a shark, small, about a three footer;  and a stingray, beached by a line, the fisher extracting the hook from it's strange mouth with plyers. 

 

Hmmm, all those nasty creatures are there at the western point.  In a short walk we saw all the biting, stinging life that THEY warned me about.  I will not swim there, but a bit east on the Gulf where it should be OK??

 

 

 

 



Elizabarbie and her Dragon

 

 

How to read the short story, "Let's Gossip Barbie"

 

To read the short story in order, you must scroll back to "Let's Gossip Barbie, 1", and scroll forward for each installment.  If I were more tech savvy, maybe I could make a more convenient arrangement.  Oh well, sorry.

 

Have a wonderful weekend, Janet



Let's Gossip Barbie, 4

 

Elizabarbie

 

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 4

A short story in four parts

 

 

 

There she is, sheee's back.  Look, Piffle Hilton, what did I tell you?  She is loaded, I mean her three bearers are loaded, with stacks and stacks of sacks from Sax's and boxes from Fetishes R Us.  What an addicted shopaholic.  She has not one iota of restraint, so vulgar. 

 

Barbie, dahlin, I am so flitter flattered that you made it back.  Kissy, kissy. Don't you look fantabuloso?  What wretched excess treasures did you score today? 

 

 How is Ken? (snicker, snicker).  Dahlin, I saw him last night on The Nine Inch Dolls Real Reality Show.  He was not looking so good.  Did he survive?  What happened?  One minute he was himself, handsome and studly, then, in the next shot, he was blowing barf bubbles.  OMG, he got food poisoning from the gold plated carrots?  You don't say (hee-hee).  Did any of the other doll stars get sick?  They all looked OK except for the occasional laser saber wounds.  And, poor Lucy and Desi are still in the hospital. Elvis and Marilyn were stuck together, like dogs, but Lincoln hosed them down, so that it came out OK.

 

 Have you seen GI Joe lately?  No?  But, he was at the party of the century last night.  I saw him on my 555 inch HD, the EavesDropKam caught him with sizzling eyes, you were right there, I know that you saw him.  Oh, now you remember, you did greet each other briefly?  (wink, wink).  Don't worry, I can keep your secret.

 

Sorry, you must leave so quickly.  Don't you want some coffee?  Did I say something wrong?  Oh, I understand, your bearers are tired.  You must take your loot to your closet before it goes out of style.  Sure, see you soon.  Lets do lunch.  Kissy, kissy.

  

I got a text on my phone. Suddenly, my day was brighter.  Hee-hee, a GI Joe booty call! Whooopeee.

 

 Puffball Hilton, sorry, dahlin, so, I gotta go now. It's time for my mani-pedi.  See you soon.  Lets do lunch. Kissy, kissy.

 

 

 

 the end

 

To read the story from the beginning go to "Archive", then "July", then  "Lets Gossip Barbie, 1".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lets Gossip Barbie, 3

Caffeinated Barbie

 

 

 

Prozac Barbie

 

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 3

A short story in four parts 

 

Now listen Partie Hartie, never mind, I can see that you are tweeting about your fabulous life. Whatever.

 

Pussy, when I saw Ken blowing bubbles in his barf, I was soooo grossed out.  He is soo disgusting, to think I used to think he was hotsy. 

 

Camera man #3 turned and focused on the city block sized bed with a canopy made from the foreskins of whales.  He captured Elvis and Marilyn banging like baboons, but the screen swiftly switched to the Kitchen Kam. 

 

Loopy and Desi were standing on a pile of rubble with their hands on each others throats.  Did you know that dolls turn blue when they are strangled?

 

On the Immaculate Konception Kam the anniversary guest were undulating in a daisy chain.  OMG it was the grossest thing that I have ever seen.  I hate orgies, bodily fluids are slimy.  

 

The screen was twitching from one cam to another,  there were so many exciting things going on, the editor didn't know where to focus.  No one could write this shit.  It has to be real!

 

But the most interesting sight, listen up Pissy Hellion, EavesDropKam focused on Barb and Joe looking at each other with sizzling eyes.  The camera actually caught beams of electricity shooting between the two.  Then, wait til' you hear this! 

 

Barbie mumbled, "It is time for my mani-pedi", and slipped out the back door.

  

GI Joe mumbled, "It is time for my shooting practice", and slipped out the back door.

 

WHAT do you think about that,  Paris the Heiress?  Princess Hasbeen? I saw it with my own eyes.  They are doing it like dingbats.  It was right there on the screen anyone could see them sneaking out, making a stealthy amorous exit, with poor Ken dead to the world upstairs, dreaming of the third level of hell/heaven, one, the other, or a mash up of both in raging psychedelic technicolor . 

 

Anyone could see it. Barbie and Ken!  All the mainstream newcasters have ignored this story.  Mattel has bribed every news person between here and Mars.  Only the Natural Inquirer has been righteous enough to cover this tale of two nine inch dolls.  The Inquirer even ran a picture of them sexting.  You should see this,  look at my phone, here he is, GI Joe in his turbid toreador outfit with a tassel dangling from his tallywacker.

 

to be continued.....To continue reading the story, click "Newer Post" at the bottom of this entry.

 

 

 

 





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Barbie Flaunts her Bikini Body!!!

 

Barbie Flaunts her Bikini Body!!!

Hot breaking news!

 

 

 

For immediate release:

 

Barbie, in a hyperbolic paparazzi event, flaunted her bikini body, this morning on Bodacious Bitch Beach.  In that breathy Marilyn voice, which she parrots perfectly, she said, "I want to thank all the little people".  Her joints are especially sexy.

 

Her team orchestrated this exciting publicity event to promote The Nine Inch Dolls Real Reality Show.  Barbie, "The Bauble", is the most mega of the show's stars.  When questioned about the authenticity of the show she said, "I know that some people think that the show is a hoax,  but what we show really is real, as real as reel can be.  We wouldn't call it reality is there was a script.   I really am a dumb blonde. Really. Duh!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 2

 

Barbie, Cat Eyed

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 2

 

 

Paris Harlot, are you listening?  If you would stop tweeting for just a few minutes I will tell you about last night's episode of the Nine Inch Dolls Real Reality Show.  It opened just like the end of the previous episode. Lucille Ball and Desi Arnez hosted a star studded forty forth year of their divorce celebration. 

Oh, you ARE listening?  I didn't know that you could multitask, tweet and listen at the same time.  I thought that you could not even walk and chew gum at the same time. (Paris Helvetica  is looking a little better, her eyes are clearing up, I think that the tequila is helping her monstrous hangover.  Where are her style team?  She needs help before the paparazzi find her.)

Sitting at the Holyhell Starbucks, Paris Pissy and I scanned the area for celebrities.  OMG I eat, sleep, and drink celebrities, 24/7.  Where would we be without these celestial deities brightening our dull lives with their colorful divorces and their flaunted bikini bodies.  I am so excited to be sitting with Princess Hellion that I am wetting my pants. Thank goodness I wore my Dior diaper, advertised by no less than The Fonz.  You do remember Henry Winkler, don't you dahlin'?

The first shot of the real true reality show that beamed to my 555 inch HD screen, was set in the immaculate conception room of Lucy and Dizzy's 333 room humble abode.  Cameras #1, 2 and 3, recorded the guests grazing on organic palm hearts and gold plated carrots. 

From the kitchen cam feed, I saw Lucy and Desi  throwing dishes at each other and screeching like zombies.  It was amazing, her frothy strawberry updoo stayed perfectly in place as she wound up to hurl a Wedgwood turkey platter.

No, Poufy, it IS a REALITY show.  There are no writers.  Lucy really is dizzy and Desi really is loose, they are not acting.  Do you think that they would call it reality if there was a script?  Duh.

To help the guest in the party room ignore the ruckus from the angry Arnezes, The Rolling Stones turned up the volume. Mick Jagger strutted like a monkey on Mountain Dew. 

Dahlinn absolutely all the most celebrated, inebriated, torticulated dolls attended.  Barbie's gorgeous gown of pink Uranus worm silk was so short that it was just a belt.  Ken was just the perfect escort, lovely eye candy.  GI Joe dressed out in fatigues, but sported a samurai sword as a bow to the formality of the occasion.  Hovering around the bar Dirty Harry squinted at Tweedledee and Tweedledum.  Abraham Lincoln pontificated with Bill Clinton while Monica Lewenski batted her lashes at honest Abe.  Absolutely every doll who is any doll was preening and posturing at that party.  I spotted Yoda (he is adorable, do you think that he is too old to have sex?).  Over by the champagne fountain Mama Dearest, the Talking Car danced dirty with the double ought seven Daniel Craig.  

Pitty Patty Halibutt, listen up, I am getting to the good part.  The kitchen cam zoomed in on Lucy and Dazy throwing butcher knives, both were bleeding, I guess that it was reality blood. 

 




On the stage Keith Richards, looking as usual like chic death warmed over, threw an original Keith Haring canvas at Mick.  OMG, Mick turned into a red devil, and OMG flames engulfed the stage.  No shit, his eyes turned Tabasco red and those 'I can eat the world lips' turned summer saults. You know, (I whisper,) he is a shockaholic. That devil frightened me so much that I laughed.  But, Prissy Hellion, the most interesting activity happened in the shadows, behind the bar, where the EavesDropKam was focused.  I zoomed in and enhanced the contrast of the screen. 

Picture this,  Bauble and Kane were sitting on the red velvet love seat.  There was such a free for all, what with the guest heaving furniture at each other, and the sound of bombs bursting in the kitchen, that they thought no one was watching them.  They did not see the EavesDropKam survey them with x ray vision from behind the flaming stage.  I have eyes like Sherlock Holmes (who could not attend because he is trying to solve  the Wikiwhistle narcolepsy case).  In the shadows I saw Barbie serve Ken a tall Kahlua and a yummy kannabis brownie.

The screen shifted back to kitchen cam where Lucy wrenched the sink off the wall (she is stronger than she looks) and threw it at Daisy, who countered with the Chiefs Food Fantasia Oven.  If they were flesh and not plastic they would be dead.  Nine inch dolls are immortal.

On stage Keith Richards unsheathed his laser sword and twirled that scathing scimitar 180x3 degrees. Jagger Devil was a flaming hell dragon and strutted like a Clydesdale at a Mardi Gras parade.  The stage was alight with a combustion that did not consume.

By the sofa, Mae West performed falafel on Superman.

Angelina and Brad bellyed up to the bar and toasted New Orleans.

Mila Kunis demonstrated her talents with a banana.

Audrey Hepburn swan necked under the most flattering lamp light.  She, and she alone was elegantly composed.  Like the eye of Katrina.

In the shadows, Bauble gave Ken three red secobarbietols, which he swallowed quickly, having been warmed up with chocolate psychoactives. In less than three split seconds he stumbled up the stairs followed by camera man #33.  He lurched into the first bedroom where Elvis and Marilyn were humping like humdingers.  Then he passed out on the carpet in a puddle of puke.


To be continued.....
To see more of the story click "Newer Post", at the bottom of this entry.