theglowblog Asked: "Being an artist, do you find it weird/awkward being someone else's muse or inspiration?"
Answer: Not only is “muse” is a temporary position but the muse has little to do with the person inspiring in comparison to the person being inspired. The one who is enchanted by their experiences and surroundings has more power and is in more control than the person who can’t imagine all of the world’s grace beyond their own capacity. Artists will assign someone as a muse for the sake of making art, the way some will make bad decisions for a good story. The muse is really a canvas. Without the presence of a muse, artists will create another. Without the presence of an artist, the muse never exists.
Owl Tattoo that someone picked out of my personal sketchbook. Done in August 2011.
Roses arm piece, first session. The flowers will be yellow and the filigree will be in hues of indigo and lavender. The line work for this was done in an hour; I’m getting much faster…can’t wait to color it.
Progress picture of my first set of tattoo flash. The main theme of this set is hands, eyes and roses. Next step is finishing the shading, then coloring. I will be selling the set of five sheets for $50, $10 per sheet.
Three Wishes
According to my Julietta, wishes made on wishbones only come true if the other person keeps the other piece. I recently did matching tattoos of wishbones on two of my closest friends and myself. In the words of Gwendolyn Brooks, “We are each other’s harvest; we are each other’s business: we are each other’s magnitude and bond.”
Before the session, we all wrote things we wished for each other on our own pieces of paper. Surprisingly enough, we all wished for the same things, just with different wording.
“May you never be without the company of soul mates. May you never get lost. May you never stop wandering.” -My wish.
I’m the one in the purple.
Watching Miya Bailey prepare at my station at @studio7design. (Taken with instagram)
Eiffel Tower Tattoo done in June 2011
The sugar skull came straight out of my sketchbook, to the calf. Grateful to have a canvas for it. Done in August 2011.
My sister Julietta’s altar. I run with witch doctors, high priestesses, shamans, and alchemists.
“May you never know the lonely bed of wasted time. May you never see the universe’s end. May you never know killed bodies in the street. May you never again lay awaiting discovery. May you never know what it means to be found. May you be protected from false prophets offering to raise you from your deathbed. We have seen false magic at work, and the white man’s magic at work, and the magic of jealous young girls. May you never know false magic—magic that pretends. magic that does not groom or heal. magic that feels good on the tongue, but is void. Magic that has no knowledge of impossible or between lives. Magic that is not firm or ripe or whole. May you be protected. May you be the firmament. May you never be mistaken for the burning bush. May those who love you never worship you. May distant daughters bring you fruit and afternoon stories. May you always know the rain forest as wet. May other earths welcome you. May you be protected when my hands & heart & tongue are not enough. May you only know a full belly & may you only know many lovers.”
- “A Mothers Prayer” by Kima Jones
“Deeply I go down into myself. My god is dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence.” — Rainer Maria Rilke
Cincinnati Love is like the river that never stops flowing. This is right next to my apartment building.
