Thursday, December 31, 2009


Long time, no see! Lately, since 'tis the season, nothing has been added on the blog. Also there has been a difficulty with my Mac battery which is literally busting at the seams and awfully warped. Perfection, once again, unattainable. I forgive you, Mac. So back to the picture, looked at some photos and decided to play with some textures... all done while watching Harry Potter: Chamber of Secrets. Is there any other way?! Hope you like it.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009


This is a piece I've been working on. I am not quite sure if it's finished or not. hmm....

Sunday, December 6, 2009




Okay, here’s the deal. I was confronted by quite a few people as to the nature amd quality of this book. In most cases books can be summed up in a couple of sentences. Hell, if you really wanted to get simplistic you could just use keywords. This book has so much going all at once, I found it difficult to analyze it in a neat, simplistic manner. So thus, all that asked me about this book, this is for you and your insatiable interest in books.

Jitterbug Perfume

A self described epic. The back of the book hardly gives you anything to go on as to whether you would like it. It states that it begins in ancient Bohemia and ends in Paris at nine o’clock tonight (Paris time). It is also a saga, it states, and thus has a hero and he is a janitor. He has a missing bottle. It’s blue, ancient, and embossed with the image of a goat-horned god. It let’s you in on what’s inside the bottle. The essence of the universe, and it’s leaking. I purchased this is a new age shop on my trip to Washington. I had already read the introduction about seven times, but somehow as fate would have it, never actually get a chance to purchase it. Thus, Jitterbug and I have had an odd relationship at the get-go. I stood up from where I was squatting down to look at the craziest version of a statue of Kali I had ever seen, when I about walked into a book sticking out. It was a book on Ayn Rand’s writing. (This book led me to read both The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.) I pulled it out, curious. Another book fell out with it, and into my hands fell Jitterbug. The elusive book that I had tried to find multiple years, but had slipped under the radar for multiple reasons: couldn’t remember the name of the author, seller didn’t carry it, or just didn’t come to mind. I felt as if perhaps it was waiting for the right moment in my life for me to read it. But I digress…

So anyways, the back of the book is pretty vague, altogether. If anyone who is reading this knows of Tom Robbins, has read his stuff, rest assured you will like it. He has become one of my literary gods. His writing is very unique and out-of-the-box. But that is what probably makes him an acquired taste. The introduction begins by talking about the beet, naturally. If the introduction doesn’t get you, I don’t know what will. The book then begins in present time in: Seattle, Paris, and New Orleans. Once you are introduced to the characters at all three locations, Priscilla, Marcel the Bunny, and Madame Devalier and Vlu Jackson, you are transported hundreds of years previous to the forests of Bohemia where a king is attempting to evade regicide. This is what brings us to our first and omnipotent theme.

Eternal Life and Youth/ Death
King Alobar is the first of his kind. He doesn’t wish to die and resents that he is expected to, once he shows the signs of age. He isn’t afraid of death but bitter towards it. He evades death once more and meets the god Pan, who is dying, also. Christianity is weakening him, for the diminishing of believers causes him to lose strength. Eventually Alobar will learn to cheat death and remain young and healthy along with his wife Kudra, whom he meets as a child in India. Kudra doesn’t at first agree with this morbid obsession with outwitting death, but after years with Alobar, she learns to enjoy life to it’s full capacity. Although she is never afraid of death or resentful towards it and feels it is part of true eternal life. Alobar doesn’t want to die and find there is no eternal life waiting, to waste this life for eternal death.

Smell
Another big topic in this book. I never thought I would know so much about perfume. Scent has changed our lives entirely. Each one of us has been effected by scent. Our brains become more and more olfactory based each generation. Visual sense is becoming less of a factor in our lives simultaneously. Olfactory senses made long-term adaptations in the brain, including size. It seems that sometime in the future, if we keep going in the same direction, we will become virtually all olfactory senses. Smell can be credited to multiple things in our lives that we hardly notice since they are in our nature to be intuitive. It is expected for perfume and scent to be a big topic because, Kudra is one of the first to wear body oils and scent to cover her own. Priscilla, a genius waitress is obsessed with finding the base note for a perfume she found in an old blue bottle, Vlu Jackson and Madame Devalier have a perfume shop in New Orleans where they have met a man named Bingo Pajame who has a crown of bees swarming about his head and the sweetest Jamaican jasmine, and Marcel the Bunny, is joint owner in Lefever Perfumes and is obsessed with scents and perfumes.

Beets…
… and what they embody. I don’t want to give EVERYTHING away, and trust me, I haven’t. There is someone going about leaving a beet behind at the Priscilla’s apartment, Marcels office, and Vlu’s bed.

Truly, this book has so much going on, it is difficult to name all of the themes and all that it goes into without spoiling. Although Robbins goes out in a million directions at once, the lines seem to tie together nicely, making a big nest to lay in.

I would just like to inform everybody of one more thing. This book is sexual. As long as a mature reader keeps in mind that it is a natural thing and that everybody has a sex drive, the book and you will have a wonderful relationship. I am just letting you know that it occurs quite a bit in the book and people that shy away from such content could possibly get an ulcer reading this book.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


something i worked on while it was in poor weather, this whole week has been particularly hectic since I have been working with my family on my huge yard and it's pesky occupants. The beauty of this piece would be it is a vector image, I could make it 500 feet and it would not be one bit pixelated. :)

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Em and Frog


Just having some fun. You can blame it all on HI FRUCTOSE magazine. Whenever I go to Barnes and Noble, I check it out and get so pumped up! Too bad I don't have the mad skills of the artists in there. Sigh, a girl can dream can't she?

Monday, November 9, 2009


Would you like to know my favorite part of this picture? It started as a sketch smaller than my hand, about two inches by one and a half inches. :) It was a very different project in my mind, but I still like it.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

shhhh...


So enjoyable to do... and no notes or prep for this one... I'll let you imagine the scenario for this one... it's my secret. may add and do a series. :)

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Portrait Test


Just testing some photoshop stuff. I am not very good at painting via Photoshop, but decided to try again...

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Remember, Remember the 5th of November


Remember, Remember the Fifth of November, Of Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason, why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be Forgot.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Equestrian Poster, Revised

It's been changed. Hope it is all that you need. Tried to balance out the colors and add the "club" thing.

Here ya' go Syd. I'm not quite sure if it needs something or if you're just going for simple. If there's anything, tell me.

Good Friend Sweeney


"Come and Visit Your Good Friend Sweeney. You sir, too sir, welcome to the grave. I will have vengeance! I will have salvation! Who sir, you sir? Nobody's in the chair, come on! Come on! I want you bleeders. Anybody! You sir, anybody! Now gentlemen don't be shy, Not one man, no nor ten men, nor a hundred can assuage me. I will have you!"

This bugger got really ridiculous because it was wrong, but I couldn't figure out why... his mouth eluded me for hours. People were getting sick of me asking if he looked like Johnny yet. Thanks for all of those bearing with me!!! Actually a very interesting project... drawing Johnny Depp is not very simple. All my stuff. (I love saying that.)

Monday, November 2, 2009

We're All Made of Chemicals


Chemicals. Haven't "just sketched" in ages. Felt right.

Saturday, October 31, 2009


This piece is called "Through Ice." Really enjoyable project, and wasn't even messy. Sometimes there's so much cutting and pasting and such, that I want to die when I'm finished because I see the huge mess i've left behind. All my stuff.

Thursday, October 29, 2009


Realization. All my stuff... :)

Drive

Taking a drive, ripping up the road, the driver is going somewhere, somewhere. The driver is unaware of his destination, but he hopes it will be beautiful. When all is said and done, it will be peace, if all is said and done right, he thinks. Nay, he hopes. Because that is all he has done on this ride, is hope, but the source dwindles with every mile. He has used speed to overcome frailty, the driver only feels right when he is shooting off into the distance, so fast that the open top whips air in, making it hard to breathe. When the air cuts out of his throat, his mouth shooting open from shock, he feels alright. These diversions take him away from the curving and sickening road, from the fears that slowly corrode him, like salt to his convertible. The driver felt uneasy of the lack of a destination and the nearness of the end, all at once. He has hit some nasty bumps on this road, especially since he hits them at such a velocity. His car shows some of the marks to remind him, and so does he. Yes, some of these marks have changed him. He drives quite recklessly at this point. If the driver were to send another driver off the road, he would not feel guilty. There had been a time, when it would have upset him, but now it was just a minor oversight. This happened on the road. If they did not make it to the destination, all the better, for the road was perilous and altered the driver, better to be unchanged, better to stay off the road. Sometimes the droning of the engine has tired the driver, he has wished to slow, but felt that he couldn’t. There was no tiring on this road, and in fear has stepped on the gas. If he had slowed, the driver, wondered, would I have seen something else? Did I miss something? He has left beautiful paradises to enter hellish dumps. Sometimes the driver fears that he has hastened to get to nothing; that there is no true end, that it is truly just a parking lot, or a cliff. What if I am not prepared when the end comes, what if it’s not what I wanted? Then I have hurried, have left everything behind for nothing. What if I find that I rushed through the best part? His hand gripped the steering wheel at this thought, and he pushed on the gas, gunning it down a hill and up a steep incline. The scenery has changed so vastly, but all on the same pavement, all to the same end, no matter what roads he takes. So he drives; the wind whipping about his head, a maddeningly high whistle circling and spiraling around his head. He has sometimes listened closely to the wind, heard voices in it. The driver prays there is someone watching out for him, that protects and ensures a fitting end. The driver implores for someone to see his intentions, to remember what the road has done to him; but most, for the destination to be worth driving to. Taking a drive, ripping up the road, the driver is going somewhere, somewhere.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009









This would be the best fifteen minutes I have ever spent in Target! Bobo seemed to not understand that the objective was to NOT look good. While I was picking out the most ridiculous head-gear, she was getting the flattering stuff, and I was in most of the pictures, which usually doesn't happen. It was hilarious... we also tried on awful clothing ensembles. Mine was gold leggings, a purple and pink plaid skirt and a grey and black ghost shirt... sounds harmless, doesn't it? You don't need to see THOSE photos, though. :)

Imagine a day when nothing goes right and you decide to punish some cardboard for the irrational humor of life. Meet Sel, my little alien friend... I was going to give her a body and go for the old poster styles with little girls in pink dresses and flowers in her hair... but it's not finished quite.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009


This is for my dear friend Tricia... I have been working on more of an Art Nouveu kind of style... which you can see needs work... but lovely Tricia helps a lot. :)

Monday, October 26, 2009

Another Story Unnamed.

Here's another little bit of writing. It doesn't feel complete, I might add more to it if I am compelled to do so. :)

There was something about the waves that crashed in on Rialto Beach that set it apart. Perhaps it was because it had been the first beach she had set her eyes on, perhaps the nostalgia tainted her view of all beaches. But whatever it was, it consumed Veronica body and soul. When she dreamed, she could hear the waves thundering to the shore. In stressful times she imagined the rocks that adorned the beach; each of them worn to be perfectly rounded, soft and cold circular objects. As she stood on Realto, the wind knocked against her, stealing her breath. Terse screams could be heard in the gasping air, high pitched like a banshee. It must have been the cries of gulls high above, Veronica told herself. Despite how the wind blew, its distinct smell curled thickly around her. The scent of the life living below that was left behind in each wave to decompose filled her head. The view of thick woods surrounded her senses. It reminded Veronica of the fairy tales that told of the black forest. So dense, light was scarce to come by, and fiendish, evildoers found refuge in the shadows and corners of this crooked dimension. The waves came in with a dramatic flourish, ripping and roaring into the rocks, a crescendo of the senses as the spray shot into the air. Veronica’s gaze shifted over the mound in the distance. She knew its shape well, just as she did with the entire beach. Although she could not remember the legend that was told by Native Americans about that rocky silhouette not more than two hundred yards away, she still had the insatiable craving to swim to its rough façade, to climb the imposing figure. There was something wonderful about swimming in the ocean, a complete surrender to the willful waves as they sloshed heavily over you. A total reneging of commitments except one to the water, to know your place, vulnerable. If it wanted you, it would take you; like all things wild it had powerful, dark secrets that only came to you via the embrace of death. Veronica shivered from something she was unable to identify as she watched the water being pushed away as the waves passed, turning and twisting in green spirals.

Friday, October 23, 2009

A Clockwork Orange

Just a couple things to aid in unlocking A Clockwork Orange

1. The extra chapter
2. The language
3. The point

First of all, when beginning A Clockwork Orange, I had no idea what it was truly about. A lot of the books I read are classics widely publicized. This one was different. All I had was a raw interpretation on the back of the book, and the knowledge that Stanley Kubrick had made a movie based off of it with aids in style by Andy Warhol. So thus, a clean slate was there when I read the book. When I read a book, I like to read up on the author and background. It may seem silly, but I have found you truly find the center of a piece when you see what time period the book was written, the author’s life and personality, and such information. It truly gives you a glimpse into why it was written, why it is a classic, its purpose and true meaning. So naturally, with my lack of knowledge on all things A Clockwork Orange, I read the introduction. It was blatantly stated by the author, Anthony Burgess, that he truly did not favor this piece of work, whatsoever. It had been merely an artistic experiment that had gained world recognition. Yes, there are other pieces that he put much more time and passion into that are hardly acknowledged. He also stated that when he wished to get it published it returned with a chapter less. The publisher had cut off the last chapter, it ended on the sixth, leaving the seventh to not even be mentioned. A Clockwork Orange is designed to have 3 parts, which Burgess planned on selling separately. Each part was comprised of 7 chapters. Anyone that can do simple math can see this makes twenty-one chapters. Instead, Burgess found the revised copy was 1 book with twenty chapters. He had chosen the number twenty-one specifically with thoughts of numerology. It represented adulthood, maturity. Burgess was not pleased about the new structure, but noted it being a dark time in his life, and took the money. But due to his laments for the past approximately forty years, the publisher has added the last chapter. That was not before he had it published also in Europe, which did end with twenty-one from the very beginning. Now this all may seem pointless, but Kubrick read the American version, which ends on a very different note, being that there is a chapter less. Many people in Europe were extremely confused at the end because of this. One may wonder, “What could have been so dramatic to completely change the book?” Well, you’ll just have to read it won’t you, now?

Second thing to keep in mind when choosing A Clockwork Orange is the lingo. The main reason this book took so long for me to read was the language, and not the subject matter. Burgess has created his own slang language, so when you first pick up this book, it could be a little overwhelming. My general quote while reading this book was, “What the HELL?!” This book got a good thrashing because after a chapter or so I’d throw it across the room. This is not a comical exaggeration. I acted this way due to frustration in lack of understanding, that is, until about the first third chapter. An epiphany bashed me on the side of the head. It’s not about completely comprehending ever last word, but the imagery that comes from the word. It is difficult to explain, only one could truly comprehend by picking it up and sticking you nose into the pages. And that is when I saw that this was an enormous feat in creative literature. A whole new slang language that was so graphic you understood it. Words began making complete sense just due to the words he used. Still don’t understand? Here’s one of my favorite quotes illustrating his visually powerful new language:

“Then, brothers, it came. Oh bliss, bliss and heaven. I lay all nagoy to the ceiling, my gulliver on my rookers on the pillow, glazzies closed, rot open in bliss, slooshying the sluice of lovely sounds. Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. The trombones crunched redgold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise silverflamed, and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again crunched like candy thunder.”

Yeah, I know. It makes you just want to take your rookers and shove them in your ookos so that you can’t slooshy any more, just creech all bezoomy like. Ta-dah! I am now fluent!

Third thing to acknowledge is the point of the book. I’m not going to out anything, because I felt it was much more powerful, being that I had no clue what this was truly about. But let me ask you a question: how are we, as a people, fit to punish others? How are we to make all peaceful and loving? What does it take to make somebody naturally good? Should it be something of consent or of force? These are all questions acknowledged by this book, and handled in a very different manner. This book is violent, this must be stated Expect “ultra-violence” as the main character, Alex, calls it. But it is a very passionate, mind opening book. And despite all the frustration, I am glad I read it. I hope this helps anyone who has ever thought of reading it and couldn’t decide. But I don’t ask about the movie. I don’t think that one’s for me.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

I enjoy writing quite a bit, in fact I am attempting to write a book. Please, you don't want to even know how it's going... but I find a certain sense o therapy in writing and have decided to not only do it for myself, but shove it down everybody else's throat. Here's a little something I wrote today, I call it "Unlocking Clenched Knuckles."

“I’m here for you,” those had been the words that were always wished to be spoken, were screaming through my eyes. There were no caresses, no sweet talk, but solid, stout speech, as if we were already at a later stage in our lives. Like we understood each other on the basest levels and irreversibly loved each other for them. I knew you put me on a pedestal and that you got caught up in our emotional miscommunication. You knew I was still piecing together myself from recent spills and haphazard battles, you saw that I was hot-headed and stubborn, but you were too. But, nevertheless, “I’m here for you,” was all that came to mind when we silently and resolutely sat next to each other. I’m sure there were things in me you never fully comprehended, as am I positive in those regards to you. You see, when we spoke, when we were together, it was as if I spoke to a part of myself, that I was truly complete. But I cannot be here any longer. When you left, I promised to stay and wait, to be here. I knew it was the harder side of you leaving, with choosing leaving being your lot. I acknowledged that it ran a narrow line with being a fool, but I was a fool when it came to all things considering you. But what do you do when half of the one is nowhere to be seen, no sign of showing. My greatest fear is that someone has filled my place. Am I was so easily replaced? While I feel, with great certainty, that you will never be substituted. So my question is, what did you wish to say, those unspoken words between us when I tried to utter my complete and total surrender to us, where you trying to claw your way away from me?

Sunday, September 13, 2009


This was actually a very fun project. Not like the one I'm working on now. Metal background from one of my photos, jelly fish from photographer Mike Johnson at http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=967504 and from www.photoxpress.com. I'm very pleased with the finished project and thanks to Grandma and Grandpa for taking me to Washington, where I took the background photo!!!

Sunday, August 23, 2009

First BBQ for Bobo



Bobo has never had barbecued food. Her mother fears that it is unhealthy, but she's always wanted to try it. Thus on Saturday night we decided to introduce Bobo to our barbecue. We had teriyaki chicken, shrimp, onions, red and green peppers, and corn on the cobb. It was a great meal, if i do say so myself. Everyone chipped in, and it was a great family experience. Bobo's curiosity made the meal even more enjoyable.

Also, we ended the night with another American classic. Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark. We don't know exactly how Bobo felt about it, since she must read the subtitles as quickly as possible to attempt to grasp what's going on in the movie. Let's just say that some of the gross, violent parts definitely got across, including the dissolving of the Nazi scum!

Legend Holds True


I've always heard that Asian people greatly dislike root beer. It smells like medicine to them. I have always thought of this as a generalization. But lo and behold, Bobo hates the stuff.

Feel the Burn

We stopped by our awesome health club today to show Bobo why we're in such great physical shape. We showed her our favorite weight machines where we dream of getting six pack abs.


Karen (mom) shows how to "work it."

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Jammin'



We decided to check out the Farmers Market this Thursday. There were many stands, and live music made it even more fun. We enjoyed the busy atmosphere!

Shaolin: Temple of Zen

Bobo and I went to the UVU Woodbury Museum, found inside the University Mall to check out the new exhibit. It was like a window into her culture. We had a great time looking at all the photos of monks while she taught me how to say their names and their fighting styles. She said the most famous is called Tang Lang Quan (Tawng Lawng Chen for those Americans who don't understand Cantonese), or Praying Mantis Fist. I thought that Japanese would guide me through Chinese very well. Although I have had only two years of formal classes, I have tried to keep my memory sharp. Too bad Chinese is hardly anything like Japanese. In fact right now, I think it is worse because I thought it would be similar. Anyways, the Shaolin Temple of Zen was awesome. Bobo made it even better because she had a better grasp on the culture. There are two types of monks: wuseng and wenseng. (woo-sung and wun-sung) One practices medicine and meditation, the other specializes in a certain type of kung fu. They begin at the a very young age and continue until death. We also learned about the history of Shaolin and Kungfu. A man thought in order to live a pure life, one must always keep busy so not to have time for devious things. Like Siddhartha Gautama, he believed in living a simple lifestyle and being very disciplined. He led meditation for hours, but as we all know, when you sit for hours, your muscles begin to discintagrate. So, in order to stay fit but still fit the criteria, he created kungfu. Pretty sweet, huh? Seriously though, if you're in the area, check it out!

Swings and Things

On Wednesday, we decided to go to the park for lunch, and after a wonderful meal, Bobo was curious about swings. I think it is a rare thing to have so much open space for parks in Guangzhou. I was teaching her how to "push" yourself on the swing and then got really high. I can be honest. When most describe me, graceful is a word rarely used. But, oddly enough I'm really glad that we got this footage. It was a hilarious diversion to watch this over and over for a long time.




More photos:




Also, I took Bobo to see Midway, she enjoyed the Swiss houses and we drove up into the dense foliage of a park farther into the mountains.


Sunday, August 16, 2009

Bobo greets Heber



We took a walk today. It is only the second day of Bobo's stay, but it is obvious there will be many questions. She is very curious, and the fam is just getting used to describing in a way that makes sense. We've learned a lot and it's been a very new experience. For instance, today we have covered:
Colleges in America, How the Shower Works, What Yellowstone Is and many of its Pictures, How a Washing Machine and Dryer Works, How a Dishwasher Works, What Sales Tax Is, Religion and Mormonism, How College and Universities are Different, How Many Hours People Work in a Day, What a Dictionary Is, What a Major in a College Is, The Differences in Housing Between China and America, Our Family Members, and other small topics.
Seriously! They have been at least a half-hour each, and many sentences spoken over and over again in order to fully understand everything.

See the world in a Yard of Dirt


Many of you who are close to us know about our yard. It's not exactly charming. But today I venture into it, and even got lost in it. It's amazing how much it can hold, and how much it attacks my allergies. There's nothing like going outside and letting your eye balls run and burn while sneezing until you get to the door. But I had forgotten how much life is in our yard. Grasshoppers threw themselves out of the way as I carefully walked through the yard of weeds. When I reached the farthest end of our yards, it felt like I had walked through a dense forest of sunflowers.

There are many different kinds of plants. In fact, I'm positive I've found the ones in The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm waiting for them to become the size of watermelons and my clone to knock on the door.


Ellie is a great companion when venturing out into the unknown. The only problem is that she sends all the grasshoppers in all directions when running for the ball. Curtains Nuno was outside and is still kicking. She loves the weeds because she can hide.
Here's a tour:

This Quilt Will Never End!


Mom, the keebler elf. this was what I saw for about an hour and a half.


When imagining a tie quilt, one would think "time consuming but simple." It is a laughable matter at this point. Despite some experience in easy quilt making, this project has seemed to consume me. (And my remarkably small amount of patience.) What started as a small project has become a hysterically ridiculous war between me and fabric. Whenever I am sure the last step has been taken, something comes to my attention. Whether it is a catch in the fabric or a wrinkle... anything. It is driving me mad. Perhaps it is my neurotic nature coming back to bite me in the butt. The binding had seemed the most formidable of the hurdles to jump. The binding has still eluded me in spite of numerous attempts. It will never have an edge. That is the closest answer I have come to. When Aunt Deb explained it, it seemed so simple. This quilt was supposed to be finished by the time I graduated high school. It is now August and two weeks away from my fall term in college. I believe it is an understatement to say: it's not going so well.