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frizshoes

The Fashion World has roared: “Prints are in.”

I was bold in junior high.  I wore various printed tops to class: bright beetles and satin comic-strips.  It got attention.

The chutzpah slipped away in high school, and ultimately disappeared in college.  The mantra on campus was look like everyone else.

Spring 2011 Fashion is not my motivating factor.   {Enter red-head and The Magic School Bus.}

Ms. Frizzle.  The teacher’s fancy frocks remind me of true glamour.

Where does Ms. Frizz shop?  Does she design her own clothing line?  Is she on Match.com?  Is her first name Fran? Lots. of. questions.

Despite my fictitious admiration for the scientist, I do realize she does not exist. But I do believe that many crafty women carry little pieces of Ms. Frizz’s splendor and philosophy as they roam the streets.

Let the Frizzle wild.  Rock the rhinos.

frizshoes2

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You get something, I get something.  I’ll buy your therapy.

Dish out your self-portrait. Be creative + crafty or dangerous + sharp.  Be you.  Exaggerate. Pour out some paint, throw in some mud, use your fingers, and make a mess!

Why should you waste time with chunks of crayon, erasers, and glue sticks?

Therapy.  It feels really good.  And who isn’t a tad narcissistic these days?  Check out my mermaid waves. Also, I’ll include a link to your website if you want some attention.

Other than a free therapy session (unleash your inner tarantula or unicorn), I buy you a drink. Since I can’t and won’t take you out for a drink, I’ll send you a drink via snail mail.  (Spend it on cotton swabs or jelly beans if you don’t drink alcohol.)

I get the doodle, and you get the drink.  Win-win-WIN.  There are stipulations, of course.  And I don’t just give drinks away.  Effort is necessary.

Here’s what you get when you give:

Share a self-portrait with your story, and you’ll be savoring a delicious PBR in no time. $3

→Bacon beer in your belly.  Submit a diorama with the story, and you will taste the meat in no time.  Cheers.  $5

→If you are eco-friendly and apply organic materials to the caricature (with story), then salt up the arm, a tequila shot is on the way.  Tequila! $7

→Ambitious and dangerous?  Two drawings with two stories = One delicious dirty martini.  Encourage a friend to play! $9

→Delight your friends.  Collect 5 self-portraits + stories.  Send.  Celebrate with a round of shots.  $21

It’s easy to submit.  Fill out the form.

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Spring break rat

April 27, 2010

“I consider myself to be part of the rat race, however; I am a spring break rat. I went on said break in 1985 and never made it back. I stopped in Denmark, Germany, Austria, Turkey, Greece, France, Italy, Liechtenstein, Holland, Belgium, Eastern Block, Thailand, Malaysia and Ecuador (painting along the way) only to discover that a party is a party is a party.  Twenty-two years later I returned to my home base in Houston and decided to go on back to school.  I will complete my masters degree at retirement age.
So where ever you are, whatever you do – accept the rat race but live up to your own rodent identity.”
-Art and story by Kirstin Baldwin from Houston, Texas


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Master of all

March 20, 2010

I don’t specialize in one thing.  I don’t want to.  I lean more towards master of none rather than master of one.  Both figures of speech are ill-fitted in the hip and shoulder area.  I’m looking for attire that better suits me.  Preferably with lace and zebra stripes.

How about Master of All?

Sounds powerful.  Sounds like a challenge.

Dream big, and more importantly, do big.  Right?

Moving on to March 20th.  Today is the first day of spring.  It feels fresh – full of kites, cheap beer, burnt hot dogs, and rosy new sunburn.  Yearly aspirations should start today rather than the bleak of winter, January 1st.

I am 27 today.  Rather than listing the things I want to do this year, I’d rather list the hats I want to wear.  It’s open-ended.  Direct paths prohibited.  Figure it out as you go but just get there.

The Different Hats of The 27-Year-Old Kira:

1. Bee Charmer – It’s been my vision ever since I watched Fried Green Tomatoes.

2. Vixen – I received my first astrology reading from my new friend, Ophira of the Astrotwins.  Without revealing details, I apparently have an inner-stripper that is clawing to be unleashed.  Hmm… 

3.  Zebra Philanthropist Striped cocktail event in the works for May!  Hyenas prohibited.  Cheetahs will be given case-by-case consideration.

***I assure you that I am picky with my bonnet and beret collection.  To prove it, I will share another list.

Beanies Kira Will Not Wear This 27th Year:

1. Troll Collector – Been there, done that.

2. Fire Eater – Maybe next year?

3. Mayonnaise Enthusiast

If you feel inspired on this lovely spring day, please share some of your new seasonal hats.

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly, specialization is for insects.”  – Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love

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My cowboy grandpa

February 25, 2010

Self Portrait in Sub-Mission by Sean Samuel Kelly

“This drawing came to me in a dream, thus the title.  I was having one of those eye-opening episodes we all have in our early twenties.  Trying to find my purpose in the grand scheme of things, the cosmic connections, the wanting heart and desperate brain.  I was feeling kind of low and inspired.

I lived in a little farming community about ten miles outside of Chico California called Capay.  I lived with my grandparents.  My grandpa was an old cowboy who was known for his little doodles and drawings that were scattered about his home and workshop.  Mainly little cartoons of cowboys urinating on a cactus or something silly.

He was watching me one day as I was drawing my self portrait.  He was giggling and giddy about it.  It made him proud to share his creative gift with me.  The piece itself comes from a deep, dark place but humor and balance are evident throughout, like life I guess.”

-Sean Samuel Kelly from Portland, Oregon

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Mom and pop portrait

January 18, 2010

Portrait by Jonah Trople using Acrylic, Bob Ross Gesso on paper and wood

“I am a 21 year old art student at the Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA. Recently I moved into an attic of a single mom of two, ages three and twelve. At first, I was hesitant, I’m more than down with attics – but single moms and kids? The move was necessary though, I couldn’t afford anything else and previous to this I was living out of my rusting VW Bus, anything was better.

I’ve been living in their attic for about two months now, and it has turned out this has been one of the coolest learning experiences ever. Nothing reminds you of what it’s like to be a three year old better than living with one. It’s put a perspective on everything – what an awful three year old I must have been! Since moving in with this family I have reflected on my own relationship with my parents a lot.

My parents had me in their teens, got married, and then went through college while raising me. For some reason, prior to moving in with this single mother and her two children, I never gave a thought to how much work my parents put into my upbringing. Imagine having a kid in your teens AND going through college at the same time!

I will admit, I wasn’t a typical child – I was a real problem – an honest horror story (I still kind of am…) I can’t believe how much love my parents gave to me, how awful I was, and how hard it must have been for them.

I decided to paint a self-portrait while I was still in the womb to explore (and pay respect to) the love my mother and father gave me. I painted them at their wedding and me in my mother’s stomach. After I had finished this painting I decided to paint myself at their age so I could compare how different our lives were at the same age. wow. Thanks mom and pop.”

Art and story by Jonah Trople

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A telegram

December 31, 2009

The stories of my five friends and myself: These are telegram style.

Bob B. went to war and didn’t come back.  Bob S. got hooked on weed and is now a junky.  The other Bob S. hasn’t come around for a while.  Bob H. stole my girl and I still want to punch him.  And Bob V. isn’t named Bob at all.   His name is Joel.  My story is art is dead.  I killed it. This is my self-portrait and the self portraits of my friends if I say so.

-Patrick Waldron