Monday, August 27, 2007

I know the Hancock Building....

One of downtown's most well known buildings, and also, the root of the ongoing joke/song Dave has been torturing me with since we moved here. The thing is, I actually really enjoy this building. While most people find beauty in landscapes of the wide open country, or mountains and forests, I find the same in skyscrapers.

I'm a small town girl with big dreams and since I can remember the foundations of cities have excited me. I am quite possibly the only child to ever be in awe of multi tier highways. I have always gotten this feeling of extreme happiness upon entering the city. And finally, here we are in my favorite city ( next to Paris, but that is another story entirely).

Few people would argue if you said the Eiffel tower is a work of art, and so, by that same standard, I give you the beautiful, tall, useful ( and tasty ... it houses the Cheesecake Factory) Hancock Building.

Sunday, August 26, 2007


Acquiring 'photoshop' has given me plenty of entertainment lately. I made this in about a half hour, using various elements from several different photos.


Saturday, August 25, 2007

the perks of being a wallflower by stephen chbosky

I recently picked up a copy of the perks of being a wallflower by stephen chbosky, at my local Borders on the sale 3 for 2 table. ( incidentally, those are my favorite tables!) I picked this small novel up after having met someone a few months back who recommended it to me.

The story is that of a withdrawn teen undergoing the changes of entering high school,and the confusing quirks of teenage girls. Written in a series of letters to an anonymous friend the story takes shape as you learn the inner workings of a troubled teens past and how it affects his future. Normally I would not recommend a book published by MTV, nor would I typically approve of a story about a teenage boy and his girl troubles. But, as I am always curious about what interests others, if you recommend something to me, I will surely read it, eventually.

The supposedly simple, cliche, and shallow topic of a teenager dealing with high school is offset by the fact that the writing draws you in and makes you feel as though the letters are being written to you. Also, the main character, Charlie, transcends the concept of age, as he is very well versed both in literature and in music. Throughout the story he mentions several classic pieces of literature and even manages to offer critiques that most 20 or 30 somethings could agree with. Some of the novels the character mentions include but are not limited to: The Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, On the Road, Naked Lunch, Peter Pan and The Great Gatsby. A great collection of works, no matter your taste or age.

On the topic of music, at one point Charlie collects pieces for a mix tape, and comes up with the following compilation:

Asleep by the Smiths
Vapour Trail by Ride
Scarborough Fair by Simon & Garfunkel
A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum
Time of No Reply by Nick Drake
Dear Prudence by the Beatles
Gypsy by Suzanne Vega
Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues
Daydream by Smashing Pumpkins
Dusk by Genesis
MLK by U2
Blackbird by the Beatles
Landslide by Fleetwood Mac
Now, I will admit that this passage of what seems to be a great mix tape, forced me to stop and contemplate the realism of the teenage character. But, decided, much like I mentioned previously, Charlie is capable of transcending age.
Overall, it was a fast, engaging read and I don't want to ruin it for anyone else by telling you any more of the plot. I will recommend this one to anyone! Enjoy!

The apocalypse (sort of)

Thursday, shortly after the girl left for a meeting with her event selling comrades of a now dying corporation, I laid my unmotivated, unemployed head down and took in the eerily fast changing weather from the comfort of our newish white couch. From bright and sunny, to pitch black in about ten minutes, it sounded like one of the commuter trains rerouted itself through our living room. On the highest floor of our building, I ran to the back door and flung the door open to see what kind of things were making all the noises I was hearing. In the alley, metal things from rooftops and tree limbs were spiraling upwards and over other buildings. At first I thought it was some sort of Chicago phenomena I was unfamiliar with. The power then went out, and I new that things were out of the norm. I didn't know what to do, so I came back in and paced around thinking. I went back out onto the back stair case, and the rain was unlike anything I'd have ever seen. It wasn't like normal rain. It wasn't big or anything. I can only relate it to being turbo freezing cold, and misty'ish. It wasn't small mist though, it was bigger. Too weird. Stuff was still flying turbo, mega, bitchin' fast, tornado like. I went back in to panic, contemplate, etc. After nearly pooping my pants, everything died down, and after fifteen minutes of rain, I went outside, and whole trees were blown over, lines were down, cars were smashed. Flash flooding was spilling into our basement. Pieces of housing, vents, chimney covers, and whatever else laid in heaps everywhere. So I called Andrea, knowing that she was probably in the middle of something important. I could tell that she thought that I was exaggerating everything that happened. I sort of have a tendency to do that. No one wants to hear about your boring life if you don't involve an alien, or a ghost, or a homeless orphan who's good with throwing knives, am I right? Anyways, she was in for a treat when she made it home. The news went on to say that the swath of damage was uniform across the whole west through northern areas of Chicago. Which is apparently very strange weather, and unexplainable. I guess hurricane-like more than tornado'ish. I thought it was just our street that was hit with what I thought was a tornado.. not the case.


Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Artwork II

Lately, I'm having a bit of a guitar shapes phase.


It's really just a hint that she wants me to buy her a little blue guitar. I haven't forgotten that her birthday is later this month. I'm broke, and right now my looks just aren't good enough to go out and score one for her though. This is her third project involving colored acoustic guitars. Hopefully, should she choose to do another one, she could refrain from using our brand new white couch as her easel. I'm convinced that the 'oil' part of oil pastels will not wash out of the covers.


I have been dreaming of these colors lately, and while my counterpart is convinced that I am secretly asking for a blue guitar, that wasn't the whole truth. Yes, I would like a malenky blue guitar, but I wouldn't be able to play it anyway.

I'll try to refrain from the use of the couch, but there just isn't anywhere else to sit! Thanks for mentioning all the negatives of our art inspired week sweetheart! you know I love ya! What is an artist without a critic?



I found this picture in a Saturday evening post, and it reminded me of a few people I knew. Its nothing special.. just pencil and paper.. She came out chubbier than I had expected. I guess I didn't shade it properly, and made her face to round, and mouth to small.. what can yah' do though.. I started it two years ago, then Andrea bought some oil pastels, and while she worked on her peice, I pulled this sketch pad out of the sea chest, and finished it.
What he didn't say: The Deeper part of the Story.
We took a brief trip to the Museum of Contemporary Art here in Chicago, and while generally appalled or annoyed by the "deep" yet meaningless images on display, we must have been somewhat inspired. Afterall, if some girl can spray paint a few words of disgust for the American Public on paper and have it hung up in a real live museum, surely two yokels from Ohio can make something worthwhile.
Once I finally got my pastels, I needed paper and was promised a scrap or two from the sketch pad he had hidden away in the chest. The sketch pad with only the first page drawn on, and even that picture was unfinished.
The first time I saw her, there was a little slip of a cut out magazine inside the pad and a half finished drawing of her. Written on the back of this drawing was some obscure journal entry mentioning a fight with an ex-girl, and a explanation that the picture does not resemble her, but rather some other wandering feminate from MN. Apparently, I shall never know the whole story of this mystery woman whom the love of my life previously pined for, and perhaps still does. This aside, I could tell from the partial drawing that it was sure to be a brilliant work of art, so I convinced him to finish it.
Mr. Pessimistic simply states this work is nothing but pencil and paper, but we both know it's so much more. Great isn't it? I know!


Welcome to our newest creation.
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