Poppy Z. Brite's Blog, page 18
February 20, 2013
Early Art Fascinations
I never considered selling visual art until recently, but I've been making it most of my life, though sometimes intermittently. The other day I started thinking about the earliest pieces of art that fascinated me. When I was four or five, my mother took me to the New Orleans Museum of Art to see the Fabergé eggs. I don't remember them at all, because I couldn't be dragged away from the Dalí precious metal and jewel sculptures that were also on display -- in particular, a pulsing, shimmering piece of anatomy called "The Royal Heart."
It still blows me away. I remember reading one of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books around that same time and feeling for the kid who accidentally drooled on Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's encyclopedia while looking at the color pictures of precious gems.
Recently, Livejournal commenter alumiere compared my recent New Pope boxes to Cornell boxes, which pleased me greatly. The Ackland Museum in Chapel Hill, where I partly grew up, had a Joseph Cornell box in its collection, and this is the only other piece of art I distinctly remember from childhood. Unlike the Dalí piece, which I only saw that one precious time, that Cornell box was a presence in my life through years of school field trips, idle summer afternoons, and even a few dates. I liked the combination of orderliness and seeming randomness, and the sense of cataloguing something that might not strictly exist. I don't remember the title of the piece, but this one reminds me of it:
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
It still blows me away. I remember reading one of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books around that same time and feeling for the kid who accidentally drooled on Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's encyclopedia while looking at the color pictures of precious gems.
Recently, Livejournal commenter alumiere compared my recent New Pope boxes to Cornell boxes, which pleased me greatly. The Ackland Museum in Chapel Hill, where I partly grew up, had a Joseph Cornell box in its collection, and this is the only other piece of art I distinctly remember from childhood. Unlike the Dalí piece, which I only saw that one precious time, that Cornell box was a presence in my life through years of school field trips, idle summer afternoons, and even a few dates. I liked the combination of orderliness and seeming randomness, and the sense of cataloguing something that might not strictly exist. I don't remember the title of the piece, but this one reminds me of it:
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
February 19, 2013
Kraken
I'm reading Kraken: The Curious, Exciting, and Slightly Disturbing Science of Squid by Wendy Williams. Learned that cephalopods have blue blood because it's copper-based instead of iron-based like mammalian blood. Is this sort of thing interesting to other people? I am a treasure trove of useless knowledge.
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
February 17, 2013
Beware Of Tub Lady
PZBArt Promo for the scariest date of the year: 15% off any item in my Etsy shop! Enter coupon code ROOM217 at checkout.
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
New NOLA Crosses, Boxes, Paintings
Lots of new listings in my Etsy store, including more NOLA Crosses, paintings, and the first two installments in my New Popes series. Here are a couple of highlights:
Pope Triceratops I, $85 or best offer
Pope Hadrosaur I, $75 or best offer
NOLA Crosses - Crucified Christ, $25
"In Possession of A Human Body," acrylic and wire on 16" x 20" canvas, $80 or best offer
Pope Triceratops I, $85 or best offer
Pope Hadrosaur I, $75 or best offer
NOLA Crosses - Crucified Christ, $25
"In Possession of A Human Body," acrylic and wire on 16" x 20" canvas, $80 or best offer
February 15, 2013
Needle Freak
So for the past four months I've been injecting testosterone with a tiny needle because nobody told me different. Injectable testosterone is a thick, oily substance, and I would spend ten or fifteen minutes filling my syringe each month, then have trouble getting the stuff out of the needle and into my flesh. I finally saw something (don't remember what) that clued me in, and yesterday, for my most recent shot, I used a 20-gauge needle. It filled in just moments, and once I got past the fear of shoving that huge spike into my butt cheek, it was ever so much easier to inject. I'm kind of a slow learner.
I never pass as male so well as when I'm dressed in drag. On Mardi Gras, I wore a red and gold Chinese dress and a black cartwheel hat with a veil, and all day I was sir'd and sent to men's restrooms and so on. The next day, dressed in my regular clothes, I got called "ma'am" for the first time in weeks. Go figure.
Making art tonight. Hoping to list some new crosses and boxes very soon. Also, I'm on Facebook again. (Billy Martin in New Orleans, in case that link doesn't work for you.) Feel free to friend me.
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
I never pass as male so well as when I'm dressed in drag. On Mardi Gras, I wore a red and gold Chinese dress and a black cartwheel hat with a veil, and all day I was sir'd and sent to men's restrooms and so on. The next day, dressed in my regular clothes, I got called "ma'am" for the first time in weeks. Go figure.
Making art tonight. Hoping to list some new crosses and boxes very soon. Also, I'm on Facebook again. (Billy Martin in New Orleans, in case that link doesn't work for you.) Feel free to friend me.
Crossposted at Dreamwidth. Comment here or there, as you will.
February 11, 2013
"Dream On, But Don't Imagine They'll All Come True"
At the Lords of Leather Ball last night, between being called "sir" several times and having a friend I hadn't seen in a year do a massive double take at me, I realized that -- in this default-queer setting, anyway -- I was passing completely. Which led to the following conversation later:
ME: I just hope cisgendered people take a moment every now and then to appreciate being seen for what they are -- every day -- without having to think about it. Because it's so great.
GREY: Actually, I disagree. Because I've known a lot of effeminate men who were mistaken for women, and a lot of masculine women who --
ME (affecting great crankiness): GOD, you people JUST CAN'T DO IT, can you? You just can't let a trans person talk about being misgendered without going "WELL WELL WELL, it happens to us TOO!!!"
GREY: But it does happen --
ME (raving): I'm sure it does, but I have NEVER EVER heard a SINGLE INSTANCE of a trans person discussing misgendering without some cis person popping up to say "I got called sir/ma'am one time, so I TOTALLY GET IT!!!"
GREY (affecting smugness): Actually, I don't like the term "cisgendered." I prefer "gender-comfortable."
ME: AAARRGBLLHGFHTFHBBQ I AM FILLING OUT A BINGO CARD ON YOU MOTHERFUCKER
Which all made me realize anew: I don't know if it's down to testosterone, getting laid on a regular basis, or just having a partner who can effectively puncture my vapors and pomposities, but I am so much less angry than I used to be. That seems like a counterintuitive effect of testosterone, but maybe if my body chemistry is finally getting closer to what it was always supposed to be ... Come to think of it, most of the FTM guys I've met, both in real life and virtually, have seemed pretty easygoing.
I used to be able to write conclusions, but I can't anymore, so I'm just going to leave this here.
ME: I just hope cisgendered people take a moment every now and then to appreciate being seen for what they are -- every day -- without having to think about it. Because it's so great.
GREY: Actually, I disagree. Because I've known a lot of effeminate men who were mistaken for women, and a lot of masculine women who --
ME (affecting great crankiness): GOD, you people JUST CAN'T DO IT, can you? You just can't let a trans person talk about being misgendered without going "WELL WELL WELL, it happens to us TOO!!!"
GREY: But it does happen --
ME (raving): I'm sure it does, but I have NEVER EVER heard a SINGLE INSTANCE of a trans person discussing misgendering without some cis person popping up to say "I got called sir/ma'am one time, so I TOTALLY GET IT!!!"
GREY (affecting smugness): Actually, I don't like the term "cisgendered." I prefer "gender-comfortable."
ME: AAARRGBLLHGFHTFHBBQ I AM FILLING OUT A BINGO CARD ON YOU MOTHERFUCKER
Which all made me realize anew: I don't know if it's down to testosterone, getting laid on a regular basis, or just having a partner who can effectively puncture my vapors and pomposities, but I am so much less angry than I used to be. That seems like a counterintuitive effect of testosterone, but maybe if my body chemistry is finally getting closer to what it was always supposed to be ... Come to think of it, most of the FTM guys I've met, both in real life and virtually, have seemed pretty easygoing.
I used to be able to write conclusions, but I can't anymore, so I'm just going to leave this here.
February 8, 2013
February 5, 2013
February 2, 2013
Captain Trips Redux
Just a couple of weeks after recovering from some unspecified crud, Grey and I are both flat on our backs again with a cold/flu/plague. I don't think I have ever downed so much Alka-Seltzer and Nyquil in my life. I'm a little better today and trying to catch up on urgent correspondence, but forgive me if it takes a bit.
Which reminds me: An author recently solicited me to do a book cover and possibly interior illustrations for their novel. I wrote back expressing interest, and they sent me more information on their book. I was still considering -- leaning toward taking the job -- when they withdrew the offer because I hadn't answered their second e-mail quickly enough. We're talking a matter of three or four days, not weeks. At first I felt bad, but then I realized that I have always been a terrible correspondent and probably wouldn't have worked well anyway with someone who requires a level of e-punctuality I cannot deliver. I quite like the idea of doing illustrations, though.
Which reminds me: An author recently solicited me to do a book cover and possibly interior illustrations for their novel. I wrote back expressing interest, and they sent me more information on their book. I was still considering -- leaning toward taking the job -- when they withdrew the offer because I hadn't answered their second e-mail quickly enough. We're talking a matter of three or four days, not weeks. At first I felt bad, but then I realized that I have always been a terrible correspondent and probably wouldn't have worked well anyway with someone who requires a level of e-punctuality I cannot deliver. I quite like the idea of doing illustrations, though.
