Love Cycle

A month ago, I had a lengthy chat with one of male supervisors after he expressed concern over my love cycle and the lack thereof an active social life. The chat was discomforting to put it mildly but after I got over the cringe factor, I gave him my full attention and took the opportunity to ask a few pertinent questions from a well seasoned man.

"When the opportunity comes, take it. Give it a try."

In the midst of him relaying love related stories of his friends and giving me tips along the way: I reflected upon my love cycle and how far it had come despite all attempts failing to reach butterfly stage. I have given more of me this year than all previous years combined. 

At the beginning of the year, matters of the heart were no where on my list of resolutions. If anything it was the last thing I could conceive of in thought. But, God returned a blast from the past and made me re-think it. Unfortunately, his presence in my life this time round was briefer than the years we spent apart. Suffice it to say; the reasons as to why you never made it with someone in the past apply a second time.

"Have you ever seen a woman drive a relationship?"

When he asked this, I literally laughed out loud! He soundly hit the nail on the head and didn't even know it! I am a control freak! I like to see things go my way and if I can commandeer them, I will! If I can spend a few minutes giving my own father orders like a general: why not a guy of no relation? 

But, I relinquished my control freak tendencies this time round because the guys refused to dance to my tune and toe the line.

"The thing about you girls is: you think just because a relationship failed, the friendship shouldn't remain."

I think maintaining a friendship with someone you like or liked and rejected you is the cruelest thing you can ever do to yourself especially if you have nothing in common to go on. They serve as constant reminders of something that could never be. Those feelings are better invested elsewhere than in a dead end situation. Nevertheless, some people make for better friends and once the friendship is priceless and invaluable that is enough to forget about the little hiccup in friendship.

"What you need is a modern relationship. One without commitment."

Love in the contemporary world as he calls it. Anyway, with those words; I knew he was a man after my own heart. The one thing I am not looking for is commitment! I love my independence and truthfully, the constant presence of people in my space stifles me a lot and makes me resentful. The moody girl that I am cannot handle commitment because my mood is reason enough to get me chucked!

"There is no faithful man and there is no unfaithful man. Once you know the difference between those two you will have successful relationships."

I shall not pretend to lie and say that I understood that. No. However, I took it to mean there is no such thing as fidelity in this generation of ours. If you believe he is faithful or not it is really up to you. It is better to have both eyes wide open and see life for what it truly is.
 As of the moment; I feel my love cycle has been used, abused and mistreated hence needs to be buried for the rest of the year. I have used up my quota of emotional and time investments for this year because emotions I last felt 5 or so 6 years ago were wrought and my heart needs serious stitches. It is for that matter that I am officially taking a break. Try me next year around September. 

Image credit: google

Beauty In Ugly

I love saying that I never have thoughts during the creation process and for that matter cannot honestly tell anyone what inspired a piece. There is usually nothing to tell because most of my pieces never ever have back stories. They are simply the results of an imaginative mind.
However, this particular piece has a story. A story I didn’t want to share until a friend of mine asked when my next blog post would be. His question made me reflect on the draft hence the decision to share. To show that sometimes; it is OK to fall apart. To feel like the loneliest soul in the world without anyone to see you through except yourself. So, here goes nothing.
Her misfortune was being worked on during the most tumultuous weeks of my life! A week in which I was dealing with the intense pain of a sprained shoulder, a week where my emotions were in an upheaval, a week where I wished for my brother’s presence like I have never done in my life and intermittently wept like a bereaved person with wracking sobs to match.
On that fateful day; I took her out of the work-in-progress pile and went to work. Black was the color of choice given the situation and mind frame. I filled up the white space taking care not to mar her looks and the design which made her unique.

All she could do was purse her pink lips and take what I had to offer-pain, sorrow and emotional chaos. She was left without choice for she couldn’t talk back. She knew her creator needed to try and keep it together and this was the only way she knew how. After my emotions were spent, I put her away. To be worked on another day; when the mood struck.
Luckily for her, I took her out for inspection, in a better frame of mind no less. I looked at her with a critical eye trying to find the imperfections and irreparable damage my chaotic emotions had wrought. But most of all; it was to check how black suited her because no color does justice to feelings and thoughts like black.

I looked at her through the lens of a camera and seeing her stare at me with her pursed pink lips nudged my heart a little. I felt guilty for making her bear the brunt of my emotions yet she wasn’t the cause of it. Why continue to drown her in my sorrow? Thus, I gave her color. I wholeheartedly tried to bring her to life the way she was originally meant to by putting an effort into making her pretty. In an attempt to make up for the marks of sorrow she could not hide.
However, even in color: she smacks of so much pain and sorrow. The sorrow in her eyes alone is incomparable to the darknss in the lines on her face. In her lies the proof of her creator's hardest lesson in life - a lesson she failed at miserably. And for that; she will forever be the reminder of that lesson and the memories that come with it.

Slave To A Muse.

No Artist Likes Being A Slave To Her Muse. 

I’ve never really had a muse before. I’ve never had a person whose voice, words, thoughts and personality act as sources of inspiration for my art.To date; all my artwork has been a result of my thoughts, imagination and most of all curiosity when it comes to changing up a design. Well, this recently changed and I am torn between good or bad as regards judgement.
Don’t get me wrong, as an artist, any source of inspiration is a godsend. It is an excuse to let go of all the banal and mundane things we do on a daily basis and just be: one with the pencil, one with the mood and let the wave of inspiration lead you where it wants you to go. The process of putting together an art piece and seeing it come to life is much more exciting and breathtaking than everything I have ever known. Much, much more.
The excitement when the creative juices are flowing and seeing your thoughts come together on paper and colour is the reason as to why artists should not be slaves to their muses. Not if the muse comes in form of a living, breathing person. Nope.
I am painstakingly putting the finishing touches to the name doodle I talked of here, a name that belongs to my source of inspiration. Yes, my muse. Someone I could frankly tell you never at all expected to inspire the pieces he has inspired. My creative juices have been overflowing and the artist in me loves it though loathes the thought of being a slave to a muse. The Shakespeare in me has been wrung out in ways you could never imagine and the ever evolving artwork has played background to many a poem. I have written more poems than I could share because they reveal so much. Sharing all would remove several cats out of the bag and arouse questions I have no answers to.
When I begun the artwork, it was a release of my thoughts and feelings. Little by little this ‘Labour Of Love’ (as I call it in my head) is slowly evolving in front of my eyes. The artist in me keeps looking at it in disbelief, wonderment and appreciation of my gift. At the back of my mind, I keep working on it with the intention to give it to him as a memento because they are my memories and want them to be his as it says but now, now, I am like hell NO! I’m going to keep it as my own memento. Something to look back on in my senior years as a reminder of my misbegotten youth and moment of folly.
Recently, it was revealed that Kim Kardashian is Peter Dundas’ muse for Roberto Cavalli. I keep thinking about this while working on my artwork, wondering how he feels having Kim for a muse because I do know how I feel. That one moment when he is in the process of fitting her with his most breathtaking dress for Fashion Week only for Kim to flee? What would happen to his entire collection?
Much as I appreciate my muse for the strokes of inspiration and flexing of creative muscle, I know I do not want my art to be a slave to a muse. No. These muses have the tendency to leave when you least expect it and before you know it, your entire creative mojo is off kilter. Some artists never creatively recover from the loss of a muse. They may keep at the craft but the pieces after are never as good as the ones before the muse fled, so the critics say.

Ps: The background in the picture is a collection of the artwork in its stages of evolution.