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 . 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.

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

Ink on paper.

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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.

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

d a m p

c r i s i s

I found myself dealing with a minor crisis a few mornings ago. I've already mentioned my erratic sleeping patterns as of late; on this particular day, lack of rest caused me to sleep in later than normal. So, having overslept by five minutes (which is saying something, seeing as I habitually only leave myself a 20 minute window to shower, get dressed and run out the door in the morning...oops) I, stumbled briskly through my morning routine until finally I attempted to pull on a pair of tights (as per usual, uniform = dress, cardigan, tights!). I chose a grey pair which someone had given me and were the wrong size; the clock was ticking down as I struggled to pull these tight tights up my legs and they got all twisted and weird and I realized, panic stricken within two minutes of my necessary departure time that there was no way I could survive the day wearing them but no way that I could change them before leaving.

I stuffed another pair of tights in my purse and ran out the door; with every step I took they rolled a little bit further down my bum and wiggled down my legs...and let me tell you, there's no discomfort like being wedged into an overcrowded morning commuter train with sausage casings pinching you.

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

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

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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.

l a d y

I generally don't consider myself to be photogenic; I have a tendency to stand in unflattering positions or make weird faces when I try to smile.

Josh took these photos of me over the weekend, and we were both thrilled with how nicely they came out! "I'm so glad to finally have some nice pictures of you," he said. But as soon as we got home and he took a proper look at them, it soon became apparent that I'd had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction... (fall weather plus busty girl deciding not to wear a bra equals, well, you can imagine).

I'm laughing it off; to be honest, I'd rather have decent photos of myself with visible nips than pristine ones with me making an unintentionally silly face.

s n a p s h o t . i n . t h e . d a r k

o h

I've been working on prints lately; getting ready to hand-colour these ladies soon.

u n - p o k e r . f a c e

I've been told that I have an expressive face: scowls, smiles, pouts, stares, squints. As much as I'd like to sometimes, I can't hide my feelings. I can't really understand people who embrace the "poker face" mentality, although I suppose that I do appreciate it. 

f i s h i n g

Voila, new illustrations. Click here to see more fishing fun!

s t a r s

Digitally coloured drawing, 2013.

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She is who she wants to be, goes where she pleases, achieved all of her dreams—when her eyes are closed.