Sweet! I won! (Bent Objects.)
03:10 AM, January 24, 2009
Who said staying up all hours of the night doesn’t pay off! :)
I won this little pill artist, called “Drugs and Art Don’t Mix,” from Terry Border of Bent Objects! (Check out his blog to see more of his work and for a better understanding of what he does than I can probably explain at this time of night/morning.)
In his contest post the other day, Terry asked for people to write something about “art,” and I did. Here is what I posted:
So, I enjoyed writing my little entry in the wee hours the other morning, and I was rather surprised today to see that I won. In Terry’s post today he wrote, “Many fun works were created for the last contest. Only one could win though, and so the winner of the little pill artist is Melissa. I really enjoyed and connected with her story.”
Neat. I’m stoked.
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P.S. I think I first came across Bent Objects from Skull-a-day, another blog I subscribe to. They did a joint project, which you can see here.
P.P.S. Here is a video of Terry Border, talking about what he does. It plays automatically, so be ready.
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I have ever since I was the snotty nosed, pig-tailed, five year-old Grandma baby-sat after school. Our afternoons were filled with her incessant dramas with plots that never moved on. And I still cringe to this day when I flip through the channels and see that blasted hourglass or spinning globe.
But, every day, Grandma would give me a choice. From her favorite chair at the big table she’d point at me and say, “You sit here quietly while we watch my soaps or go in the other room and draw.”
I picked “the other room” every damned day. And that’s where an artist was born.
In a little room off the front porch with a low coffee table, the perfect size for drawing at, and out of ear-shot from the melodramatic soaps, I learned how to create. My pencil found it’s way across the paper to produce friends for me, creatures with wings and horns, girls wearing clothes I wanted to design, or even some butt-kicking Ninja Turtles.
So, art, for me, began as an escape from the anathema of my youth and still exists as an escape. An escape from rules, reality, assumptions, life, yourself, myself, or just really bad TV.