g i r l . t w e l v e

One hundred girls/days, day twelve. Pen on paper.

g i r l . e l e v e n

Day eleven of my One Hundred Girls in One Hundred days project. Pen on paper.

g i r l . t e n

One hundred girls in one hundred days: day ten! Ink and brush, digitally coloured.

No, thank you.
No, thank you.
No, thank you.

g i r l . n i n e

One hundred girls/days: number nine. First full body lady. Ink and brush/pen on paper. I love the way that ink smells, so soothing.

g i r l . e i g h t

One hundred girls in one hundred days: day eight! Pen, brush, ink and marker on paper. Polka dot face. I feel like I'm getting better at eyebrows; they're always been my nemeses.

g i r l . s e v e n

One hundred/one hundred days/number seven! I've made it one week, and I'm proud of that. I've finally used some colour too. Ink, brush and pen on paper, digitally coloured. Crazy eyes. 

g i r l . s i x

One hundred girls in one hundred days, day six. Ink and brush on paper (I'm in the zone).

g i r l . f i v e

One hundred girls in one hundred days, day five. Ink and brush on paper.

p r o c e s s

Another process photo from the other night (recognize the squiggles?). This reminds me of the kinds of projects that we were forced to do in early art classes: paint a gradient. I was always pretty indignant about this; I might seem like a meek girl, but I'm stubborn and hate being told what to do. I always thought that I knew better, that I was better than gradients.

It's funny how the things that we fight against as children are usually thing things that we grow up to embrace on our own (vegetables, taking naps, painting gradients). When I have kids of my own, I'll bore them to death with stories like this.

g i r l . f o u r

One hundred girls in one hundred days, number four! Ink and brush on paper.

b r e e z e

It's been exceptionally blustery here today. I've spent the afternoon sitting beside the window, drawing, listening to the wind howl and spying the branches outside whipping around. I'm 1) incredibly grateful that I didn't have to walk anywhere/leave the house today and 2) so over this winter. 

g i r l . t h r e e

One hundred girls, day three: ink on paper.

g i r l . t w o

One hundred girls in one hundred days, number two. Pen on paper and digital coloured variation. Sour, angry face; I've been experiencing some of those moods lately; when you're mad, you're mad.

g i r l . o n e

One hundred girls in one hundred days begins: day one. Ink & brush on paper.

l i n e s

I've been feeling wound up lately, so I let loose with a brush and some ink; sometimes the best therapy is unrestrained creativity.

o n e . h u n d r e d

I've decided to set out a little project for myself, involving the creation of one hundred ladies over the course of one hundred days.

The idea popped into my head on Friday night while I was caught up in live music.

Josh and I went to see a classical concert (some Tchaikovsky and others). After about an hour, there was a flurry of extra long applause with a standing ovation, the musicians went backstage and coming back out, and there was what seemed to be an encore. The lights came up and the audience filed out. I turned to Josh as we walked down the stairs; was that it...it seemed kind of short? We made our way to the lobby and were out the door when we realized that no one else was leaving; the rest of the crowd was lingering around, getting drinks and chatting. It finally sunk it that we has mistaken intermission for the end of the show. Oops.

e t s y . u p d a t e

I'm excited to announce the addition of several new additions to the Quite & Polite store! Click here to check out some of the new rings available for sale. 

I've always been a huge fan of cocktail rings! (I have a tray on my counter at home showcasing my personal collection). They're so easy to slip on and I love how they instantly add interest to any outfit. Not to toot my own horn, but what I like best about the rings I've designed (beside the polkas!) is how durable they are; I'm always washing my hands, bumping up against things and generally can't be trusted (this is why we can't have nice things...), but the resin used to make these stands up to abuse pretty well! 

If you have any questions, or requests for a custom order, please don't hesitate to message me!

d o w n

Tree branches downed by the recent storms.

d r e a m

Dare I do what I've always dreamed to do; dare I admit that I'm afraid to try for fear of failure? One side suggests that I stay silent and the other urges me to stop being silly and just go go go. 

r e s o l v e

New Year Resolutions:

I. Don't give up; don't accept ennui and stagnation.
II. Don't place your hopes on others; continue to build yourself up and be strong.
III. Stop buying extra lives on Candy Crush.
IV. Don't be afraid to succeed.

f l e s h . a n d . f o r m

Ink on paper.

•

I remember being lectured on the difference between nakedness and nudity in art. Nudity is natural, innocent, unintentional: a goddess bathing or a mother nursing her child. Nakedness is purposeful, brash, powerful: the reclining Olympia in her shoes and jewelery, in charge of her body and willingly exposing herself.

I find that I'm drawn to that concept; I think about nakedness and comfort and strength; I think how, as I've grown more comfortable with myself I've grown more comfortable with my body. I think about clothing and the concealment of ourselves; I think about the beauty of flesh and form; I think about the feminist minefield that I may be unknowingly stumbling into.

•

Our bodies are the tools that we might use to achieve the plans that our spirits can only dream of.

m e d i e v a l . n e o n

I found this amazing fabric in a rural goodwill several months ago. The instant that I saw it, I knew that I had to have it, although I had (and still have) no idea what to do with it. Originally I considered turning it into a psychedelic skirt or some hideous pillows, but now I think I might just tack it up in all its glory on my studio wall and let it inspire me. I like the idea of an alternate reality with lush gardens and jolly lovers wearing clothing inspired by separate centuries.

g e t . o u t . a n d . g o

f r o z e n

Evidence from the ice storm; Sunday before Christmas. This winter weather is out of control: sub-zero temperatures, blustery winds, freezing rain, mountains of snow. My hands are chapped and bleed because of the cold. Driving is a nightmare when you can't see the lines for lanes and your brakes don't want to work properly. All I want these days is to hibernate. 

d a m p

2 0 1 4

I've never been a giant fan of New Years; I habitually experience a juxtaposition of anxiety and anti-climactic ennui around the end of every December and it lingers through the end of the year and into the start of the next. This year, I upped the ante by blanketing all that old jazz with the hectic haze of moving stress and a new job with erratic hours. For the first time, I had the experience of working on both New Years eve and New Years Day;  I hate to admit how bitter and left out of life I've been feeling lately, knowing that everyone else is out having fun while I'm at the office. 

On the last day of 2013, I made my way to meet my friends and Josh at a quiet house party; I arrived just after 11:30, sober, cold and with a headache. We chatted, ate excellent snacks and had several dance parties in the kitchen. We missed the the official countdown to midnight by about six minutes; Josh and I kissed and there were party-poppers and mimosas. Our friend shared her little black hat with us and it lead to some fantastic photos (there I am, attempting to wink).