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.

g i r l . f o u r

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

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.

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.

s h a r p

r a i n b o w . b r i t e

Variations! Click here to see more and here to buy.

•

Here's hoping that some decent sleep is in my future; recently, I've been spending my nights solo on a futon, dozing off to the Food Network or W (Guy Fieri is basically my best friend [also the property brothers...]). Last night I fell asleep watching Girls on Cosmo, woke up at 3:30 am to the ending credits of Shakespeare in Love and was subsequently too melancholy and bummed to fall back asleep for a while.

Whenever I see Gwyneth Paltrow, I'm compelled to think back to high school, when my AP English class and I, after watching one too many classic-turned-film movies for class, came to the frightening conclusion that she ruled our lives (Great Expectations anyone?).

o h . o h . o h

Happy Thanksgiving all! I've stolen away some time over the weekend to continue colouring these ladies. Hope that everyone is having a wonderful weekend.

m e o w

After an early-childhood trauma, I spent some time attending both individual and group therapy. The counselors who lead the group sessions stand out in my mind like the hosts of Polkaroo; they were all smiles and friendly encouragement and their sessions seemed more like fun than anything. One day, our group took turns role-playing the members of a family (I realize, in hindsight, to observe how typical our notions of family behaviour were); other children in the group elected to be the 'mom' or the 'dad', 'brother'; etc...wanting no part of that, I asked the leaders if I could be the cat instead.

At the time, I was oblivious, but now, I'm embarrassed.

I wanted to be the family pet. What did those therapists think of me? What does that say about me as a person?

(Despite what I can only imagine must have been uncomfortable reluctance, the leaders let me make my choice and I proceeded to crawl around on the floor and generally avoided participating in their exercise as a normal person).

c o l d

Quickly coloured sketch; mysterious man on a journey.

I like strong chins, big noses and skin glowing red from the cold.