Meanwhile, in art class . . .
Everyone:
* being super quiet and polite *
Me:
* arrives late, still drinking coffee,
takes over, like, three desks;
proceeds to slam things around and curse loudly *
I’m not really concerned with whether a discussion on the transient nature of earthly life as represented through the ephemeral materiality of peasant food in a French still life, is ever going to come up in a job interview.
But thanks, art school, for trying to keep me prepared anyway.
Realistic Portrait of a School of Dolphins in Two Dimensions
Mixed Media
Bwargh von Modnar
2015
Beat the Teenagers with The Red Wedge
Assemblage
Bwargh von Modnar
2015
El Lissitzky walks into a bar and orders two shots:
One which he proudly drinks as a toast to Lenin,
and one just for the drink’s sake.
Self
Assemblage with Egg Tempura
Bwargh von Modnar
2015
I keep having dreams about my hair in relation to my identity.
What starts as a quick, emotional decision toward drastic change, becomes immediate regret when I do it all wrong, and through a process I end up fixing and loving it, and myself, more than before …
This is also the process through which I make art usually – learning new things through fucking up, and then (regardless of how the thing actually turns out) feeling pretty good about my own willingness to fuck up instead of not trying.
It so rarely occurs to me that any of my problems have to do with being a woman. I keep getting caught up in this idea, like, it’s the 21st century and my gender comprises most of the planet.
I
don’t
have
the
patience
to
express my feelings
about
being
infantilized
by everyone
I’m
smarter
than.
According to Arden Leigh,
I should consider overhauling my wardrobe to fit mostly within the ideal image that I want to become … but I just don’t know that it’s possible to live like a steampunk Stevie Nicks 24⁄7.
Preparing to lead my flock.
—bwargh von modnar
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