Erotic Art Week Installation : 12 Girls

Tuesday evening I found myself installing my 12 postcard sized pieces, my Ladies, on the gaudily but prettily patterned wall of Brooklyn Bar. According to the Erotic Art Week brochure, I was supposed to be here. I deliberated over which spot would work, sought the advice of the Boy and eventually decided on the wall beside the entrance.

I got them up, after much deliberation, and here they are.

I really must say that I was very pleasantly surprised by people's reactions to them. They were a hit and appreciated. I came away feeling both overwhelmed and ecstatic. Antsy is also a good word.

Many thanks to Rodell Warner for the photographs and the support. Thanks Boy.

Sun, Sand, Sea, Swine Flu and Other Adventures

So, I had a Swine Flu scare while in Tobago due to coughing, sniffles, stomach queasiness and a 2 day old headache. But I feel alot better now and I'm a believer in the virtues of hand sanitiser. And masks.

I have never before, even after living on an island for 25 years, felt desperation to submerge myself in the ocean. Perhaps it is the fact that I've grown up on an island that has allowed me to not feel that desperation. I'm not sure. Whatever it is, I understand now why older Trinbagonians say that a "salt dip" will fix all sorts of problems. I was done working, we headed to the beach, perhaps one of the more notable ones in Tobago, Store Bay, and I felt prickly and hot and all I needed was to wade in an sit down. And I did. I walked in, sat down with the water up to my chin and felt the stress float away.

I took some pics first of course!

My Boy and I cleaned up his new home a bit on Sunday. That was good.

With my day off yesterday, I finished my pieces for Erotic Art Week. I did about 4 during my trip to Tobago , added to the 4 I had before and the rest when I came back. I'm done I think. 12 pieces the size of postcards.

I still have to take shots of them before and after mounting them and as soon as they're officially mounted this afternoon, I'll post them here.

I'm a little excited, a little hesitant, a little scared, a little proud, a little fulfilled. I did work specifically for an event and it feels good.

A little break to be had...

I'm off to a business fair in Tobago, our sister isle, so I'll be gone for about 4 days. There's no wireless access where I'm staying unfortunately. Can you believe that!

I'll have lots to do; even if it's not job related work. I have 4 Agatha Christie novels, my sketchbooks and my journal. I should be occupied. I'm so afraid of getting bored!

I'm also thinking about participating in Erotic Art Week over here. So I have those ideas to work on.

Till next week, I'm out! Here's a little peek of a postkaarten project I want to do.

And many thanks for your support!


much love,

Life's Battles, Beauty and Bravery

On Friday morning at about two in the morning, my boy was robbed a gunpoint by men who were boys. Probably no older than 17. They were jumpy, more afraid of him than he was of them.

I called the stolen phone about an hour after it happened; the person who answered and I spoke for over 20 minutes. I wasn't the least bit intimidated, I was angry and apparently so stern in my lecturing that the thief, who identified himself as Keston, thought I was my boy's mother, he kept calling me "ma'am".

Now, I will admit we had a good laugh about that. My mother, a Guidance Officer who sees all the ills youth like Keston face, in particular found it very amusing. One has to cherish the ability to laugh after facing possible death. I cherish that in him. The strength to adapt, to not remain flawed by what life shoves at you.

What I regret is the young life that's going to waste, the child who's carrying a gun and pulling on aggression like a dark cloak in the wee hours of the morning. His aggression protects him from being prey; that much was clear from our conversation.

I could go into details but they aren't important. All I can say is that I am unbelievably thankful that he's alive.

I began this the day after (Sunday) while we vegetated at my house during the day and finished it later while we compared notes via text on the NBA Finals. I'm not sure who she is but I dig her peace. I want her peace to meet you.

Mapping Thoughts

She is called Thought and came out of a thought. This one is actually heavily influenced by scrap booking {hullo EssenseVibez!} as I loved the little flourishes I saw all over the scrapbooks that I loved and I wanted to put them all over the place -- all over the place. I didn't necessarily want to stick something on the piece so I sat down and drew in each little swirl and dot...I sharpened many pencils that night.

I have another thought and that's a series of postcards. I have this perfect little book of post card sized watercolour paper and I want to put things on them. I'll be working on those soon.

I'm writing from the south of Trinidad today. Public holiday today and I'm at my sister's house with the family. Been a good day; quiet, reflective and a little pained. But that's not always a bad thing. I've been having many thoughts about myself, my identity and my life, not all of them good but it's a thing i have to work through.

blessings!

Waiting Four

I think I was waiting fo/u/r a weekend like the one I had!

I had a great weekend to be honest. I went to a club on Friday night with the good folk. Has to have been my first ever club experience and I totally enjoyed it.



That said, I didn’t do any thing new by way of visual art, except the photos, so I’m going to add a piece that was done but never posted.

Green Glitter and Graphite

I’m really quite sleepy. I spent all evening helping one of my sisters prepare for a company sports day. Their team colour is green; therefore, I was bejewelled with green glitter before my bath…and after my bath of course. It was fun though; the painting and glittering and gluing. And I got to bed at 2am on Thursday morning – talking, connecting, rediscovering liking someone so much it made me wince a little. That’s not necessarily a bad thing…just not always wise. So I am quite tired…pleasantly tired.

The framework for this actually began last year…or year before, I forget which, and I erased the majority of it and began again. The posture is essentially the same, the expression the same but more delicate.

I’m driven tonight {this morning right now} by a desire to make expressions which are organic, transparent and pure.

For me, exaggeration is not quite amplification so much as it is elemental expression. I see people in my mind who possess elements, features and out of these two come personalities. All of these ultimately reflect in the {Girl}.

Loneliness and Watercolor

I had one of those nights -- haunted, restless and distant. So I started a painting. She's not finished though...she's just started actually.

Not much to say today...mood's still got me hooked in a mist.

And yes, that's my cat's butt you see in the corner of the pic...he needs to be in/on EVERYTHING I do.



much love though...

-bri

Lacking Apparent Simplicity

I don't have that particular sophistication that allows me to express me to everyone else. Which is unfortunate because I would like to do so. I grow instantly reserved when asked about my thoughts or opinions...unless I already feel strongly about the subject. I will rant on the ills of the world, the post-colonial psyche, the place of the West Indian as a part of the Diaspora and yet, I don't have a place and my psyche isn't worth exploring.

I feel like a traveller with a wandering mind and restless soul. I am generally too sensitive; remembering the daily news keeps me awake at night. I'm a nurturer, a supporter and a cheerleader and it is so very hard to find people who are the same. Though, if I really think about it, I could easily see that I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I had some cheer leading nurturers. I'd probably feel stifled. Unfortunately.

I've been called an "old soul" for as long as I can remember. My grandmother started it when she commented that I seemed to know too much for my 3 years. I talked to myself and I still do. I kept my own counsel then, I still do to a large extent now. I saw things that no one else saw; now I just see through people. I was an odd child. My mother and sisters would probably still say I'm an odd child.

I love dreaming.

I'm no wallflower though; just passionately reserved and watchful. I check everything out, I check people out, I sit back, observe and my 'feeling' about a thing usually forms itself.

What am I trying to say? I'm not quite sure to be honest.

Of Bic Pens and Boredom

This is a rough sketch done in black ball point pen. It has nothing to say except maybe to speak as to the virtues of boredom and Bic pens.