[new beginnings, my attempts at fine art.]

people often ask me what my art is about--particularly, the self-portrait series. my mom would say, with regards to self-portrait as frida kahlo, "why are there tears coming out of her eye?"--i, then, converted the tears into a single stream of water, in hopes of masking the sadness of it. the truth is that i put my soul into every painting i make. art is my passion and the greatest source of my vulnerability. i cannot help it--it's the requisite process of creativity.

the reason why i abandoned my fine-art pursuits at vassar is because i felt too exposed at the critiques (i was insecurely fraught, a victim of self-doubt). now that i've been painting as a hobby again, without the pressures of my professors approval and with new faith in myself, my creativity has flourished. i do not fear failure because it cannot affect me with the same salience as grades can.

the scary truth is that when i paint, i pour my heart onto the canvas (cheesy?), it's true and unavoidable. i paint self-portraits because my face is the one i have the most access to and have practiced with the most. it's the rembrandt/frida kahlo thing.

the result is that i paint myself how i see myself---which is always more revealing than i sincerely hope. when looking at my finished self-portraits (of which there are only two), i've found eery symbolism that displays some of my darkest insecurities. my hope is that my viewers won't realize the meaning behind the symbols---they'll be too distracted by the colors or the form to see the message behind them.

maybe i shouldn't be afraid of the dark elements. one of my professors at vassar told me (after she saw me crying in the hallway outside of the classroom), "deep angst is the heart of great art". the more commissions i secure and the more responses i get, the more i realize that she must be right.

insecurely yours,

favorite fish

[post-LV.]

in the way of huntings and gatherings, my trips to las vegas with my lovely lady friends (for whom i have much unadulterated affection) yield many memories. and memories are one of my favorite things to seek out and gather in the expanse of this joyful earth.

kk (the birthday princess) was beautiful, as always. a blonde bundle of unbridled joy (oxymoronic?--i believe so). her dress took the cake (left):

melissa kept everyone feeling entertained, as is the case with melissa on all occasions.

leah, with artfully crafted hair and dressed in a silk romper, was a vision for me to behold. (did i mention that i love admiring beautiful women?)

and ian held down the fort for men everywhere in the midst of our translucent, sparkle-filled girl explosion. donning skinny jeans and a blazer.

las vegas did not disappoint---the night was ushered in with glee on all accounts.

reflections on the strip:

it was interesting to see the rituals of courtship and their subsequent behaviors. it was even more interesting, perhaps, to see the generous supply of good conversation that could be had when said rituals were abandoned in favor of honesty and, most of all, a willingness to pay attention.

an older gentleman (in his thirties) came up to melissa and i and told us that we are beautiful, but that his friend (tall, awkward man) isn't attracted to asians. well there's one less white boy with yellow-fever i've got to avoid, i thought.

i smiled at a bright-eyed birthday boy (freshly 21) who walked past me and soon-after returned to say shyly, "i had to ask you to dance, because you are gorgeous." his humble approach, rooted in a vegas-induced euphoria, was endlessly endearing.

on another occasion, a 28 year old mechanical engineer from hermosa beach and i struck up a good conversation about the importance of music taste in assessing depth of character.

all three instances of point-blank honesty led to engaging, sustained rapport. there were no established expectations, no "hey what's your sign?" considerations, nor was there the pressure of flirtation. granted, my friends and i had to dodge many other questionable techniques:

one intoxicated youth used the "smart ass" approach, joking---in enthusiastic, unreadable tones---that he'd never heard of "california" or "orange county" before. i wondered if he knew how sadly desperate he came off, and considered telling him to tone it down as an act of good will, to prevent him from future embarrassment.

another man told me that i needed to stand close to him at the bar so that his friends wouldn't see that he was texting someone---apparently phones were off-limits for their bachelor party weekend...or so went his story.

the dance floor was worse yet...guys would dance in our immediate proximity, intermittently pressing themselves against us in hopes that we'd reciprocate despite our clear disinterest (it's remarkable how many men need lessons in body-language.)

as it were, only the brave prevailed, and we spent our evening accepting the company of only the most deserving---the ones who were satisfied with good conversation.

in all, our impromptu night in vegas highlighted my belief in the importance of sincerity in all things. say what you mean, it's good for you. and, to my male readers, it works better on the ladies with self-respect.

for the record, i don't think all men are clueless. just most of them.

love from me, a.f.f.