I only allow people to see finished products.

They don't understand the insanity.

They don't understand the process. Creativity has been linked to schizophrenia.

It's how we process thoughts.

It's how we have divergent thinking.

It's like this.

 

I am a trash artist. 

Trash fills me with guilt,

So I try to make it different or give it use.

Like, my grandma.

She gave me old jewelry pieces,

Because I also make jewelry.

But this stuff is cheap.

I can't make jewelry with this.

But I can't throw it away.

I put it in a drawer labeled "Old Lady Stuff."

I forget about it.

Then I look through it randomly.

 

I see this brooch.

Fake diamonds hang from it.

I think "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend."

What a load of crap.

This should be an eye patch. 

I hate the marketing scheme behind diamonds.

This is going to turn into a feminist piece.

Why do men get dogs as their best friend?

Why are they pressured to buy women expensive diamonds?

Apparently more money equals more love.

 

So I put it over the eye on a foam head I got from a garage sale.

I want to make it like a hunting trophy,

because the bigger the diamond, the better the husband.

I listen to L7 with candles lit around me. 

I stare at her as if I am giving her life because I am.

I take a sip of red wine and stare harder. 

My cat tries to help,

but I can't handle his critiques.

Then I cover her in this thing I do with reciepts,

Because it's all about money after all.

Heat makes reciepts turn black,

So I create black veins infesting her face.

And I give her paper eyelashes and use the heat like make-up,

because women are suppose to.

I stare again and smoke a little.

I rub my hand over her head.

I can feel her warmth. 

She has recieved life.

She is asleep.

I decided I don't want her on a box plaque.

I want her to be puking and I want it to be long.

I put her on this five foot piece of wood.

I do this other thing I do with hot glue.

I apply it so it drips and I blow.

It starts to dry but not quickly enough.

Most of it ends up on the ground, while little hangs on.

I repeat.

I blow harder.

I get lightheaded.

This takes me forever.

The wood bores me, 

So I spray paint black over steel grate for contrast.

I feel better.

Then I find red tissue paper from a present.

I like the red on the black and white.

I make it into a hood.

She becomes me and everything makes sense.

Now she tells me her story.

I take another sip of wine and another hit. 

I listen.

She is throwing up the big bad wolf,

So I begin adding fur to her puke and painting it red.

I keep going and going.

I listen to Nine Inch Nails and stare at her.

She wakes up.

But I feel I feel like something is missing.

I ask my girlfriend.

She stares at her and takes a sip of Lonestar.

She says I need a frame or contrast on the edges.

Yes! I get so excited!

I paint the edges black and put her in the living room.

I intoduce her as Lil' Red Ate the Wolf.

And I still hate diamonds....