Tie off the tornado. Stop the spin.

The spirals unwind
the un-twist 

here I am
Talula
Talula. 

HERE I AM (screaming)
Maryanne. The girl before the rabbit hole. 
The girl who draws the fastest black hole. 

I sourced Inferno.
Hunter S. 
Salinger

Tie off the tornado. Stop the spin. 

Sandtrap

When you leave us through the patient doors
That rattle in you ear will be the sound of our applause
raptuous, considered and due.
Oh the nasty laughter and desperate smirks
are tangled in the boredom where out brittle kisses lurk
well how can i believe you, when you can't believe your luck

and the shards of past attraction lie visible
but shy and blunt and weak and worn
away by whining in the emery paper voice you use to speak

oh the shards of past attraction lie visible
but shy and blunt and weak and worn
away by whining in the emery paper voice you use to speak

in the trap
you only want to be the first to laugh
you only want to be the first in the sandtrap
you only want to be the first to laugh

and your climbing holes and cinder claws
ring out the ? all towards

Farewell, Farewell, Farewell

*Feeling trapped in the norm, but so needing to be quiet in it for just long enough that the nausea goes away. 

The hardest thing I've had to write to date...and the dead baby paintings.

I keep trying to write this down, say it out loud, deal with it; but every time I try I find a good old excuse not to. It shouldn't be this hard. We should be allowed to talk about it. I find it creeps into my everyday like a slow moving fog. I want it to lift. I want to see the brighter side of the cemetery stone.

I had a miscarriage in June. I have spent countless hours mourning the loss of the baby I always wanted.

No, I wasn't in a serious relationship - in fact the morning I had the miscarriage the guy took off for two weeks to NY with nothing more than a kiss on my forehead. If that didn't suck - in the next two weeks I lost my home and had to leave my dog as well.

Dominoes.

For many years my life has read like a falling stack of dominoes. I accepted it; much like a accepted this miscarriage and then the constant state of loss I allow myself to stay in.

Key. Words.

Allow myself.

Changing the conversation (the dialog) I have had with myself for a long time has been key to getting me to this point. Saying what I mean to MYSELF. (IE: being able to write this down)
I'm not looking for attention of any kind of sympathy when I write this - I know how many of us woman (and men) have gone thru this; what I have wondered this whole time is what defines this great loss? What story do I walk away telling myself everyday?

I tell myself I'm ok. Over and over. That I'm strong. That maybe the reason for all of this to happen was to give me the time to reconnect with my sister and HER kids. Kids that already exist that I love dearly. I am not being punished. I did not deserve to experience yet another great pain or loss in my life.
It just happened. I'm ok. For that short amount of time I felt what it might have been like to be a mom. Initial fear, amazement, a miracle!!! It just didn't stick.

I believe every soul has intention. I also believe that this is an important time in our lives that we are able to accept universal energy and allow it to change our path and our beliefs if we so chose...or if we just simply need to make a different choice than the one we have been making for many years.

I chose to not let this sad and emotional loss rule me. I will no longer let any kind of loss define me. I am ok. I am strong, beautiful, creative and independent. I didn't need the baby to make me whole; I already am. I did love the baby. Love should always be enough. As long as you give it for free; even if it is not returned.

A gift. This loss was a gift. Every moment is a gift to give yourself love. I pulled thru this heartache without hurting anyone - especially myself.

There are two paintings that sit next to my bed that I painted while I was in the throws of losing the baby, the "boyfriend", my home, and having to leave a town that I love and my dog. Art has always been a way to tell my story without me (trying) to be obvious. I look at these paintings and I'm so grateful that I was able to make art out of it all. That I have these two beautiful reminders of this one very small part of my bigger story. I hope you have art in your life that gives you this. I really do. It is one of the bigger reasons why I do what I do - I believe that art heals.

Thank you for reading and for sharing in this with me. It means a lot that I am more than an "artist" or someone who incessantly posts art on facebook, or pics of my dog...or that my internet personality paints a good facade without telling the truth.

Here it is....the hardest thing I've had to write to date....and here is that painting (and the artwork above) that tells of that heartache. I call them the dead baby paintings. I know...parts of my internet personality are true; just the sick one's mostly.

The true test will be if I click Publish...if you are reading this; then you know I just gifted myself with a fog lifting ceremony. Cheers.

Same story, different day

The Juggler and my Dead Cat

So I kinda just sat there juggling the faces and the names
Nothing was really moving besides my arms, circling, circling
and circling again
waiting for one to drop off, out, bump off to the side but
my hands kept moving and the heads and faces kept spinning
out
in front of me.

No one looks me in the eye.

They eventually became fuzzy and blurred a bit
maybe it was the tequila or maybe it just was

I thought...one of these heads will stop spinning around in
this vicious washing machine world
this endless Ferris Wheel of people who's mouths     move
but they don't mean what they say
around and around
same story each circle
every now and again I think one is about to roll out
but they just keep on

same story
different day

Suck back the spit, Swallow

Negative space(s)

Place(s)
Trace(s)

the line I used to love. 

White chalk. 

Scratch(es)

Snatch(es)

Surrounding the figure(s)

Person(s)

Moment(s)

The study, the sketch

the first impression(s)

wipe(s) off

-----------------------------

Where there once was rage(s)

replaced page(s)

Suck back the spit

Swallow

She start(s) over. 

Window shopping my own reflection

how many times am I going to come to this place,
space
vacancy
void

Window shopping my own reflection

the negative space that snaps between nothing
slowly
softly
simply
allowing the faint slip of silence
cross over me

shhhhhhh

Pressing my finger against the line of his lips
tracing the lies
erasing
pacing

I don't remember how I got here
because I don't know where I've been
if fate has me cornered
and I'm back inside the box
let it be known
I've since learned how to draw
a thousand exits,
a drop floor
and a blackhole

and the line I used to draw you in
is as easily erased

All Chemtrailed and Modified

I'm 10 shades deeper than I saw red
looked around and noticed the world was dead

All chemtrailed and modified

pushed and shoved

My cats don't meow
My dogs don't bark

Life doesn't give you mountains
to climb

It gives you holes
to make into mountains
you dig out of them
you dig into them

either way you dig.

I'm 10 shades deeper than I saw red.

Momma grabbed a hatched

Daddy laid in bed

lazy mother fucker

pilled out of his head

little girl cried out "I saw red"

Wedding dress laid

last hanged thread

narrow down the isle

walking dead

little girl cried out 

"I saw red"

Exit Music for a Film.

Some days it pulls like the tide...
uncertainty.
Exposure
Explosion

Visual assault -
my eyes can't handle the yellow hue at dusk,
I hate grocery stores,
laundromats
most people

I hate medicine, GMO's, Gluten and fuck all

The incessant screaming inside of my own skull

Random emails with made up excuses as to why you are emailing
The word
Electric

Exasperated
Masturbated

A-Muse

I'm pretty sure I need to lock the door.
Toss the key,
scratch the cat post,
flip the eggs

Leave the country...
Will you come with me?

Exit music for a Film.

Bulgaria next...

In between the train tracks of Asheville

and the Silo's of these lonely roads

was a gypsy soul

wandering

The clanging of her courtesies 

never made her want for more

but the road

traveled

The truths told

never a lie pass her by unknown

the scent of lavender for calming

Bulgaria next

for it has 70% of the worlds roses. 

Sink into your float

It's that moment when the balloon string slips from your fingers. That split second when you realize that the joy, the laughter, the boundless goodness has slipped away and everything becomes dark. You sink into your float - adrift. 

Elevator straight into my skull

The escalator rises as it falls

I swear our jet is crashing in my mind

You can hold on but I wouldn't waste your time

Farewell my black balloon

Farewell my black balloon

I've stood in a thousand street scenes

Just around the corner from you

On the edge of a dream that you have

Has anybody ever told you it's not coming true

Farewell my black balloon

Farewell my black balloon

The weather had its way with you

Farewell my black balloon

The weather had its way with you

Farewell my black balloon

(No title) intended

Some days
I show my face
my scars
the way the rip tide pulls back my skin
showing the multiplying blood count
the reality of this storm

most days
I hide behind a mask
of painted faces
designed by my own disguises

Today
I'm tired, bloated, shrugging off blue skies
for the darkness
the fear

the pointless emotions.

I wake up with an unquenchable desire...

I've spent the day involved in the emotion of missing someone.
It's funny because this is an emotion I have noted myself lacking in the past;
so to have it present itself - is new. Almost unfamiliar.
Overwhelmingly unfamiliar. Distracting.

                                         "Take Me With You"                                     Sold

I was asked yesterday how I "channel my angst". Angst is such a cliched word to use
in regards to the artist. Do I have angst?

angst [æŋst (German) aŋst]n

1. an acute but nonspecific sense of anxiety or remorse

2. (Philosophy) (in Existentialist philosophy) the dread caused by man's awareness that his future is not determined but must be freely chosen

I definitely have grocery/department store angst.
In general though...I'm pretty solid. I don't spend time on things that are out of my control.
I am, however, at times - completely out of control.

I do this weird thing whenever I have a big deadline - or a show. I'm completely focused on my art, 100% dedicated to it and nothing else 90% of the time.
It never fails though...when the last thing in the world that I should be doing is dating;

I start to date. It's intentional. I can almost feel it creep over me.

The desire to create angst. Most of my days are pretty simple. I wake up with an unquenchable desire to create.
I drink a glass of water and stare at my drafting table. I often don't even change out of my pj's. I want to feel charcoal on my fingers. Line to page, music to lyric. It pulses thru my veins.

                                          Mixed collection                                          all Sold

It's all quite lovely really. I'm very happy in it as well.
This is how my day rolls on. At the worst of it I've forgotten to eat or ignored the pups urges to go out -

However, in the act of creating - I'm perfectly pleased with the simplicities of my designs. My ability to give happiness, light and love to someone thru art. I'm so lucky this is what I do for work.

I don't even really want to date. I'm perfectly happy and in love with my art. I have found loving relationships with friends and well to be honest, after my last relationship - steering clear of any kind of emotional attachment actually thrills me. I won't let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me anymore.

   "I Won't Let Love"                                                                                                                   Sold

But I recently realized that it never fails. Right before a deadline or a show - I start to date. I'll book myself full for an entire week of serial dating just to create angst. Just to give myself something to worry about. To stir up insecurites, question myself, my talent, who I really am. Put myself in front of a stranger. Try to be pretty, sexy, smart, and most importantly true to myself SIMPLY for the fact that my art is better when I do this.

My art is better when I challenge myself to pick and choose what is most important to me.
The art always wins.

                                          Left that art at the beach too       Mixed and Available

I make new friends. Some of them become lovers - if only just once. I'm not concerned with them the next day; I'm just concerned with how it shows up in my work.

That is how I channel my angst.

It's also why I spent today missing someone. An entire collection of artwork dedicated to him. He has no idea how many paintings tell the story of what I was going thru. He came to my most recent show and I asked him how it felt to stand in a room where the artist thought about him while creating most of the work. He laughed me off. Not wanting to acknowledge or allow the heaviness of it in. It's fine. Those words were something I wanted to give him. I learned to selflessly love someone because of him. I am grateful. I miss him. I love him. He made me a better artist.

                                "The Opposite of Static"                                                 Available

Like I said...Most of my days are pretty simple.
xo

                                Puerto Rico                                                                        Gifted

New Website.

Check out my new website:

Talulalovebottoms.net
New artwork and blog! xo