Outtakes. 

That’s what I call the paintings I make that end up in the trash. I go through phases where I make these layered messy paintings that I always hate at the end, and rip to tiny shreds, and pretend that they never happened. It usually happens when something emotionally triggers me, which normally leads me to “artists block”. 

I share them with you now before I set them on fire. 

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Choose happiness. 

Everyday we wake up, we have to make the choice whether it’s going to be a good day or a bad day. Lots of things can influence this choice: checking our phones immediately when we wake up to only see the perception of everyone’s more-than-perfect lives, lack of sleep, having a long awaited event you’ve been looking for, sleeping past your alarm, or making that decision to hot that 6am hot yoga class. 

Regardless of what happens that may stifle your mood, you will still ALWAYS have the choice to be positive. How to stay positive? Actively chase after & do things that make you feel pure BLISS. Apart from being an artist, I’m a yoga teacher, a musician, a nature-lover, a horror movie aficionado, etc.

Get up and DO those things that make you happy. Ask yourself; “What can I do in this moment that will bring me joy?”

The power of thought is the most underestimated life-force and survival skill. 

Hiking & impromtu yoga poses
Hiked up to Lake TwentyTwo and swam in the glacier water. Exhilerating.
Handstands! the stronger my yoga practice, the better i get!
A little 2am scribble

Cutting up my old Vogues and making collages is one of my all time favorite hobbies.
Letting my little Picasso Baby peep the sunset.

Australian Fashion Week: Emma Mulholland, Australia Resort ’17

Emma Mulholland doesn’t go halfsies on a theme. Her Resort 2017 showing took guests to outer space with a collection drawn from the misfits of Araki films and the Internet age. The astral notes were many: planetary platforms, sequin rocket ship embroideries, a print with flame-haired astronauts, and enough star sequins dotted under models’ eyes to populate a galaxy far, far away.

 -Steff Yotka via Vogue Runway 
My fave looks from the collection:

Australian Fashion week: Di$count Universe Australia Resort ’17

 This is one of my favorite clothing lines, originating from Australia, this is their newest collection that’s been released and I’m posting a few of my favorite looks from their Australian resort 2017 collection!
DU is “Known for its elaborately wrought sequined handiwork and extreme tongue in cheek nature, and the [designers] served it up by the gallon …creating fully embellished unitards and thigh high boots with floral patterns.” – Steff Yotka, writer for Australian Fashion Week. 

Big eyes and letting internet haters fuel your creativity! 

 

These are the paintings that I did this morning. I woke up to some wonderful news to see that one of my favorite jewelry lines, Dannijo featured one of my illustrations on their Instagram page. I was filled with emotions, mostly happiness and gratitude, and for some reason today I felt like I had to really focus on big emotional eyes. These are the paintings that I created with this feeling that I had inside of myself. These are the pieces that show that feeling, the feeling of gratitude, happiness, and just overall excitement. 

In lieu of my excitement however, it seems as though the more my work is recognized by bigger influencers, the more I get put on blast for not being authentic enough, or for blatantly copying other illustrators. I understand the all illustrators have similar styles, but  I also cannot help the way I translate what I see on paper. My style is my style, and it may be similar to other artists, but I know in my heart that different styles and techniques are used to translate what I see onto canvas is MY truth. The features that we see as what to find beauty, for example, I, hair, lips, rosy cheeks, eyelashes etc., all artists use these features and translate them all differently onto paper based on how they look at it. These are all features that people associate beauty with, and you better believe the artists are going to exaggerate those features or translate them in their own style based on how those features speak to them. There’s going to be a chance of overlap, it’s impossible not to. The key to this is to see the beauty in diversity of all of this gorgeous artwork, even if styles overlap each other. 

Painting big eyes is my therapeutic way of processing the emotions that I feel, or the negativity that people throw my way. I love painting my big eyes, but I also simply love free styling with ink and my no.4 round paintbrush. Either way, I feel like I can never win when it comes to trying to stay as original as possible and staying true to myself at the same time. It’s not what is said about me that defines me, it’s how I react to the negativity that is the most important. At the end of the day, doesn’t matter what people say about me and it shouldn’t matter to you either, whoever is reading this is going to do something similar. This is my truth and my authenticity and intentions come straight from my heart. Everything else around me is just noise. 

Take those negative energies that are ignorantly thrown your way, and let it sit inside of you for a while. Let it simmer. Let it boil your blood and season you to the point where your creativity is florishing from the mean things that people have said to you. Allow this to fuel your creativity. Use this energy to make something absolutely jaw-dropping. 

Long story short? My best work comes from mean people on the Internet. Period. 

Stay artsy! Xo

my thoughts: middle school

Middle school wasn’t exactly the best time of our lives, as we went through our first of many identity crisis, and trying to withstand the social pressure of “fitting in”, along with social media magnifying the problem.

I thank God every single day that social media wasn’t around when I was in the 8th grade. Texting had just hit the market as something that was accessible to everyone, but I didn’t get my first cellphone until senior year of high school.

I was the wallflower. The perfect bait for assholes. And they took advantage of me daily because I was too shy to speak up, or stand up for myself. My friends could be counted with one hand. While everyone had boyfriends and hair straighteners, I still wasn’t allowed to wear make-up and go to dances. The only recognition I got in middle school was a certificate of some kind of “arts honors award”. I guess there was a small group of kids that were hand-selected by the art director at my school, and it was a big deal to be recognized in that category, as only 8 kids were selected out of hundreds. I was one of them, and I still have that certificate.

Receiving that certificate was one of the few highlights during my middle school experience. Mostly, I was just bullied or ignored. I allowed people to brush me under the rug, and if they didn’t, then I would do it to myself — as if I deserved to be a loser.

After finishing middle school, I still found myself there everyday running up at the track and the surrounding grasslands. To this day, I’m still there very regularly, running, walking, doing yoga, sitting and reading…

How is it that I find myself going back to the very place that holds the worst memories of my awkward adolescence? I have no idea. But just like being teased in middle school made me stronger, so did running at the track/area. I keep going back to the ground zero of my humiliation, and I think I subconsciously do it to prove to myself that this school full of horrible memories doesn’t OWN me, and I’m brave enough to keep coming back.

It’s ironic how a place that carries the worst memories of my past, is also the place where I actively show up to create my best memories of my present. I’m embraced by the big evergreen trees as I walk through the school campus, and the dusty red track is more inviting than any other running grounds. As pound one foot in front of the other, I pound away the memories of getting taken advantage of, being pushed around in the hallway, getting made fun of for my ethnicity, being called ugly, oh, the list could go on.

What’s even more bewildering is that the assholes of the past have become the most genuinely kind human beings of the present, as I’ve run into them one by one. I’m 25 years old, and here I am judging a human being based on their actions towards me when they were only 13 years old.

Do I carry resentment in my heart towards these individuals who are now some of my close friends? Absolutely not. The refreshing surprise of kindness never gets old, the more people I run into from my teenage years. For the rest of the assholes that are still assholes, they don’t recognize me, and so I get a good laugh out of messing with them. They’ll ask me for my number, a date, a “netflix and chill” (ew) sesh. Of course for these jerks, I’ll usually put them on the spot in telling them who I am, with a “nice try, get out of my life” attitude. Is that the right thing to do? No. It’s always better to forgive. But is it the most satisfying thing to do? Hell yeah.

Can anyone relate? Struggling with bullying? What to say to a bully? Your best/worst memories in middle school?  Need advice? Leave your comment here!