I got to know you better.

I find myself sitting in my apartment, music playing from my lil iphone, hookah smoke surrounding me accompanied by a slight chilly breeze...and all I can think is how much I miss having a canvas. After having a weekend of friends and partying, reminiscing and laughing; I finally have my apartment to myself. My mind is running with ideas, with thoughts, and the amazing rush of inspiration. If I could paint on the walls, I would.  (roommates wouldnt really appreciate it tho, haha)

Last night, the bf held my hand and then proceeded to tell me how delicate the hands of an artist were. Sure, sweet perhaps. But instead, it established this urge I have to fulfill what the title means to me.  One of the greatest achievement I have accomplaished is for people to see my craft as art, and for my image to reflect one of an artist. Yet, there is so much to be placed on canvas, signatures to be placed at the edge of my work, colors to be mixed, mediums to be experimented with....the list goes on.
I havent nearly reached my peak.

Perhaps this entry in Eight is a reminder of where I stood on this day. And how I madly believe I will never let this passion diminish. This light is mine.

Love,
Jen


VIII

14.

"She is our moon. Our tidal pull. She is the rich deep beneath the sea, the buried treasure, the expression in the owl's eye, the perfume in the wild rose. She is what the water says when it moves."

Just a lil excerpt from Patrica McKillip which I loved.
Today is a lil different from the past years.
But its a day like any other in the five months we've been together; a day when we can't wait for nightfall and for the embrace that the moon offers without fail.

:)

Love,
Jen


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perhaps this is finding a new joie de vivre.

well. its been bittersweet making a decision.

...but for the next few months, ill be working my ass off to attend a program in Paris, France.
i owe this to myself; to go for something, (that although intimidating) will pay off in the end.

such a change, hopefully will lead to a remarkable experience...and somehow everything that im scared of leaving behind will only grow stronger within my heart.

i look forward to a whole new chapter, to experiencing a different part of adulthood, and to fulfilling a part of my eight.

Love,
Jen


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Dadaland.

Reading for my AHS 192 seminar, three hours every Monday where everything Dada is analysed...
part of my reading for today:

She was bathed in the brightness of the sun and the miracle that replaces tradition. She is full of inventiveness, whimsy, and caprice. She danced to the "Song of the Flying Fish and Sea Horses," an onomatopoeic lament. It was a dance full of flashes and edges, full of dazzling light and penetrating intensity. The lines of her body broke up, each gesture decomposed into a hundred precise, angular, and sharp movements. The buffoonery of the perspective, the lighting, and the atmosphere is a pretext used by a hypersensitive nervous system for witty and ironic fun. The figures of her dance are at the same time mysterious, grotesque, and ecstatic.
-Hugo Ball's essay "Occultism and Other Fine and Rare Things"

The above is a description of Sophie Taeuber, she was a dancer in Zurich from 1916-1920; but was well-known for the involvement in dada with artist Jean Arp.
Readings like these prove that art history isnt just about the critiquing of a painting on a pristine gallery wall... its about a woman, a shape, an essence, or even an everyday setting. There must be an embracing of beauty, whatever that interpretation might be to a person.

Love,
Jen


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one day.

idea after idea. its kept on going for the past few days.

yesterday, i finished a sketch that created a strange feeling within me...

dare i say it?

i think its hope.

perhaps its the beginning of plans, ambitions....drive.

I feel empowered, guess I just wanted to share that sweet emotion.

below, music keeps me moving.

lana del rey is on my playlist.

a beautiful woman and a cathedral...its painting inspiration handed on a platter.

Love,

Jen

VIII

all paradox and enticing mystery.

thoughts circling round and round in my head as I walk to get my morning coffee:

I) There's a spot right on the bridge over the freeway dedicated to a victim of a hit and run incident. Two broken candle holders stand beneath a mid-size poster presenting the picture of a beautiful girl in her mid 20's; a coy smile on her face. Right above, it reads "gone, but never forgotten". The entire set up unfailingly makes me remember a feeling emerging in my childhood. I feel that ever since I was a little girl, I never thought I would be lucky enough to reach old age. Perhaps everyone has this mentality; a kind of skeptical nature regarding the ability to live close to 90 years on this earth...but at least some people can see parts of it. Having grandchildren, sitting on a rocking chair on the porch, among other cliche things. But Ive never seen it. I always thought that I would die being significantly young...and while that might seem pessimistic, it instead just felt like a reality to adjust to.
weird, i know.
II) I keep wondering about all the things to do for study abroad in the summer, and if everything will actually come together for me. Italy would be beyond amazing. But someone please explain why I'm still thinking about that internship at the Getty here at home...?
III) school. school. school. so many books to get, and so much work to do next week.
IV) ooh, urban outfitters has a sale!

been hoping to find this song. its an absolute favorite now.

Love,

Jen

VIII

excited. stoked. ecstatic.

well, the need to get inked has come back. im sure tattoo shows havent exactly helped.
its been two years since my last tattoo, and im looking to get something bigger now...

the ideas are rolling.


Love,
Jen


VIII

holocene.

last night of the year.
seems like so much has happened, so many changes have occurred and somehow we're about to start the process all over again for a whole new year. \
curiously, i treat new year's eve like I should thanksgiving. my brain goes over the moments that changed the course of my lil life...and I cant help but stop and be thankful in celebrating another 12 months of absolute beautiful chaos.
I learned that my shopaholic tendencies can be controlled, starbucks withdrawals give me serious headaches, and that after all...iphones DO do it better.  :)

but on a more serious note. this year showed me that I have the strength to make amends with some, let go of others, and learn to adore a select few.

So this is to the ones I text everyday, the ones that will laugh hours on end with me while chilling with some hookah, the ones that love shopping as much as I do and even to the ones that dont...haha, to the one who comforted me when I was sick and trembling, to the one that calls to see if I want coffee everyday, to the lil ones who get me tired as hell but leave me with sore cheeks from smiling so much, to the ghosts who have returned, to the ones who put up with my love of crazy socks and alexander mcqueen, to the ones that have let me draw on them on a drunken night, and to the one who keeps me warm at night and holds my hand as we walk the street.

Thank you. You made this year beyond amazing.
Happy New Year.


Love,
Jen


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my old friend, lust.

 c/o: topshop.com
i) Armadillo Eyelet Lace-up Boot- 160
ii) Adorn Leopard Pony Gold Heel- 110
iii) Vectra3 Studded Slippers- 56
iv) Krafty Cut Out Brogues- 110
v) Katrina Pointed Ballet Pumps- 84

I'M HAVING MAJOR SHOPPING WITHDRAWALS. I'm looking at every fashion blog and finding every possible sale online. While all the finds above are from one of my favorites; Topshop...I have an upcoming trip to San Francisco (a.k.a the vintage store sanctuary) and I absolutely could not be more excited by the idea of dragging the boyfriend to go digging for lost treasures ;]

Now if only an accounting final wasn't in the way....

Love,

Jen

VIII

P.s: If anyone is smart, they'll check this blog to see what I want for Christmas.

there's a voice singing loudly on the radio, just for you.

Rediscovered The Swell Season as an antidote for stressful finals.

Worked very well, I must say.

Love,

Jen

VIII

mesmerizing.

Confession: I have a growing fascination with iconic beauty that is deeply tortured and tormented.

I never found myself drawn to the pictures which are so commonly seen around hollywood in forms of postcards or dorm room posters… it all screamed glitzy glamour with a lack of depth. Even as I watched her films, I was more entranced by her charm than the actual storyline.

Slowly, I discovered that I was undeniably intrigued by the persona she developed to enchant the film industry and the audiences as well; she was like the California wildfires that struck the mountains, which everybody stopped to admire, only to realize much later that there was much damage hidden by a breathtaking facade. The deeper I go into researching, the more I find myself staring at pictures of her...just wondering how that luminous smile could hide so much unhappiness and how her eyes could glow while bathing in melancholy. Perhaps that’s what keeps me hooked, seeing such beauty unravel in the greatest of breakdowns. Marilyn became a dream, losing grip on her reality, sinking in disappointment and letting her true self go unwillingly.

what loss.

Love,
Jen



VIII

this is the why.

Alexander McQueen, Spring/Summer 1994

photographed by Sølve Sundsbø

for Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty

“The inspiration behind the hair came from Victorian times when prostitutes would sell theirs for kits of hair locks, which were bought by people to give to their lovers. I used it as my signature label with locks of hair in Perspex. In the early collections, it was my own hair.”

I miss him.

Love,
Jen


VIII

replay.

How To Make It In America.


Love,
Jen


VIII

VIII

extraordinary thing.

This feeling is intoxicating.
Its like waking up to the sunlight's light caress,
its the bass to a song that trembles your body,
its the sensation of rain finally falling on your fingertips as you walk to class,
its the realization that delicious caramel brulee lattes are back at starbucks,
its being enveloped by the beautiful chaos of an early Mcqueen show,
its placing a brush on a canvas to be completely absorbed by it,
its breathing in a cold breeze, while holding fire in your heart.
its all combined.

its happiness.

Love,
Jen


VIII

son mas que palabras.

Mi Diego:

Espejo de la noche.

 Tus ojos espadas verdes dentro de mi carne, ondas entre nuestras manos.

Todo tu en el espacio lleno de sonidos. En la sombra y en la luz.

Tu te llamaras Auxocromo el que capta el color. Yo Cromoforo- la que da el calor.

Tu eres todas las combinacionesde numeros. La vida.

Mi deseo es entender la linea, la forma, el movimiento.

Tu llenas y yo recibo. Tu palabra recorre todo el espacios y llega a mis celulas

 que son astros y va a las tuyas que son mi luz.

-Frida 

...Reading Frida's love letters convinces me that our era lacks the passion and devotion that was found then. We dont take the time to write, we dont use ink to express the fever felt in our hearts, we dont even believe that a person can belong to us and form a lifeling union.

we stand as realists or undercover pessimists. 

perhaps this is progress...

or perhaps we have descended into a dark spiral of bitterness.

Love, 

Jen

VIII  

inspired.

y con un poco de color terminamos. o empezamos.

Love,
Jen


VIII

We are the music makers. And the dreamers of the dreams.

Marc by marc Jacobs silk shorts.
H&M striped top.
Steve Madden taupe suede platform boots.
Vamp Chanel lipstick.
Freshly cut bangs.

Yea. It's a good day.


Love,
Jen


VIII

'cause she's a crueller mistress.

Im apologizing in advance to my roommates for the overload of Florence you will have starting now....if there is such a thing. I cannot express how much each video strongly supports my need to go shopping with this woman. She's absolutely mesmerizing.   

While "What the water gave me" is my favorite of the two songs for the moment, "Shake it off" is undeniably visually stunning...maybe due to the fact that the wardrobe screams Tom Ford, teasing tattoo glimpses are present, and gypsy tendencies among high society bring a fulfilling sense to the song. 

I need say no more.

Love,

Jen

VIII

therapy.

I need some Doc Martens.

Any people willing to contribute to this special, life changing cause, let me know asap.

My fall wardrobe will appreciate it significantly.

Many thanks.

Love,

Jen

VIII

pearls.

Evelyn Mchale, Robert Wiles, 1947

At first glance, the shot above is beautiful.

Yet, then the eye adjusts increasingly, letting details come alive and comprehended. What could have been mistaken for glimmers of a liquid metal material are finally seen in their true form; shattered glass on a dented car. Her pose is no pose at all, just what gravity decided to leave her body as once it was done with it. She holds tight to her pearls as a sign of everything she wanted, but didnt feel she rightly deserved. At 23, Evelyn McHale leapt off the Empire State Building to fall 1050 feet to the ground...and for what?  

Did it change her family? Was a valuable lesson learned?

Or was she to be a muse all along? The center of an art student's inspiration, a symbol of fragility at its best, or even a tribute to a death that achieved beauty beyond its average measure...

At first, the shot is beautiful. Yet, with a second take it becomes even more so.

Evelyn. I hope you found it.

Love,

Jen

VIII