Oof I am back, please do not judge me as a Twitter deserter. I’m gonna be here as both myself and my Jumbo Jibbles brand (but not to sell stuff). Just representing my whole-ass self. With cusses!

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@artwormsbrown
Oof I am back, please do not judge me as a Twitter deserter. I’m gonna be here as both myself and my Jumbo Jibbles brand (but not to sell stuff). Just representing my whole-ass self. With cusses!
Is Felicity a Crazy Ex-Girlfriend prequel? Yes, I am just now watching the first episode. There’s a lot of TV out there.
At&t’s website is like a duck’s vagina. Only it isn’t smart and well-adapted, just puzzling.
Pounded in the Butt by My Own Podcast: Chuck Tingle comes to your earbuds
The good folks from Night Vale have launched Pounded in the Butt By My Own Podcast, a new audio treat in which guest-readers read the extremely NSFW and utterly delightful erotic fiction of Chuck Tingle (previously).
https://boingboing.net/2018/03/15/the-tingler.html
As a Nightvale listener and reader of at least one Chuck Tingle book while riding on a plane, I am very excited about this.
This here is why I don’t agree Adam is great gay role model… he’s just a great role model.
Nah he gets it
Prom photo
You might say, “Oh Amy! I bet YOU didn’t go to the prom by yourself!”
Did too! Can’t find it, but I’ve got a picture of me in my dress, ready to go, with my DAD. No, I didn’t go with my dad, just got the picture everyone gets with their date, but with my dad. Oy.
I made an extra long Hug Pillow from some teal cotton today. It was a bear to stuff without flopping onto the floor. Almost 10 feet long!
Here’s a photo of me in a dress with a dude that isn’t from prom, but was very fun. Circa 2003. Photo by Alaric Cole.
art is over and over again
Looking into the world of soft sculpture I found this article about 5 artists doin’ it up with textiles. Before I could even scroll down, my usual anxiety about seeing something similar to mine popped up. “If I see it, and then I keep going, that’s copying!” Where does this worry come from?? I pushed through it, though. I have so little art history education, I can’t also ignore what’s happening in the now.
I saw figurative sculptures by Karine Jollet. I’ve only learned about Louise Bourgeois in the past few years, and I’ve had an exploration into patchwork faces on my backburner. I made this in 2015, upon which Tricia Stackle said, “Do you know Louise Bourgeois?
This was, literally, my first attempt at a self portrait.
Bourgeois:
But back to my anxiety. I saw Karine Jollet’s human sculptures and felt the familiar zing of a brittle fence popping up with a “no trespassing” sign. Jollet, from Artodyssey.com:
Now, do I see Rodin and Michaelangelo and think, “Well, I can’t sculpt figures now!” No, that does not provoke any copycat anxiety in me. Is it because I work in a “soft” medium? Is it because they are men? Though I’d sooner claim I could fly than call Bourgeois and Jollet my peers, they seem much closer in reality, like someone I could someday chance to meet (I do realize Bourgeois has passed). Maybe it is because they are women, I don’t want to tread over and muss paths they’ve forged.
The more I write about this, the more ridiculous it seems. It’s working!
But there is something so much more intimate about fabric than stone or metal. You know each stitch. You see the fabric grain. The faded dot of blood where you poked your finger but didn’t noticed until 4 stitches later. As I walk behind those that came before me, I am picking their threads out of my hair and slipping on their abandoned scraps.
I’m looking for excuses not to forge ahead, complaining about roadblocks that have obviously already been mowed down by generations of women artists before me.
Holes
Whence my fascination with holes in things? Why do I have to have a reason? Ever since I started saying my stuff was “art” I’ve had endless questions on what it’s about. But when I think deep on what it’s about I come up with new questions that lead to different stuff. My brain is very stuffed. With ideas or anxiety? How to differentiate?
I had an idea this morning about holes in a different way-- rips and holes as a kind of asceticism or flagellation. I’ve been doing this thing since it’s been actually cold in CA where I never turn the heat up enough, sit around being cold until my brain stops working when I could just put on my beat-up puffy vest and be fine. Forgetting to turn the heat in the car and then feeling like I need to run in circles to come back to life when I get to where I’m going. Not turning on the heat in my giant, barely-insulated studio and slowly going into hibernation mode.
Am I sabotaging myself? Do I feel guilty? I’ve had a guilt complex my entire life, and I do little things to make myself have a not-great time. Sometimes I’ll say I’m not turning on the heat because the landlord complained that the utilities were too high, sometimes because I feel bad for people who don’t have heat. San Jose has the highest homeless population in the country, that’s true, but how does me feeling uncomfortable and getting less work done help any of that?
So, maybe the holes are not entry ways. Maybe they are points of self-harm. Taking away things that are mine, that I need, in order to assuage my guilt of being comfortable.
Am I uncomfortable being comfortable? Where whence comes the guilt? I just felt guilty for saying “whence” twice, but I love that word.
Uncomfortable in my own skin. Now the holes are invitations inside, to keep me company or distract me. They are meant to signal welcome, that what I have I want to share. They are negations of my own self, saying, “Step right in, step right through, I am sorry for taking up this space.”
I still remember the time I was tricked into going to a Baptist youth group meeting and everyone was really excited because it was “Hell Night” and the youth pastor made us all recite the date over and over as a group, so that when we were burning in hell we’d remember the night we could’ve turned it all around.
Had a fun photo shoot today. I’m kind a liking the name “Soft Rocks”. Get them at Jumbo Jibbles.
birds
Reiner Musterbuch, Rein Abbey 1208-1213
ÖNB, Cod. 507, fol. 10r
The one in the middle, with the GUNS.
Making dolls?
Making dolls?
I spent a fair amount of time playing by the creek last month.
My first crystal quilt, working on a larger one now.
My rock obsession continues with Soft Rocks, a line of gemstone pillows that mimic gems and minerals. To start, I’ve made one stone to correspond to each month’s birthstone. Technically, pearl isn’t a gem/stone/mineral but I won’t get too picky. Currently sold under the Jumbo Jibbles brand name because starting a whole new store is haaaaaard.
This is my
SHIIIIIIIIIIT