embroidery floss, meet frankenstein.

you studied so blind
perhaps
the poignant misery
I never saw
bound up to dissipate.

sweaters

I love ugly sweaters. Really, I do. Knit atrocities pull on my heartstrings with a pathos usually reserved for commercials about shelter pets and third world orphans. I can’t help it. Whenever I see something particularly hideous, I feel compelled to pick it up and bring it home. I prowl thrift stores, lurk in consignment shops, and pillage attics mercilessly.

My closet is immaculately organized. I have a section for dresses, for my Chinese cheongsams, and for shoes. Finally I have sweaters- subcategories upon subcategories of sweaters. Dress sweaters, casual sweaters, seasonal sweaters, and even the occasional cardigan. Sweaters are the comfort food of the clothing world, and cables are the strongest armor that I have. I’ve asked myself why I need to welcome the tacky, the purled, and the hobnob masses yearning to be free. Maybe it’s 90’s nostalgia, or because I was never allowed pets of my own. Though I doubt I’ll ever have an answer, and although I may never be remotely well dressed, at the very least, I’m delightfully warm.

collections

I am a collector. Of what, I’m not exactly certain. I have a stack of embroidered handkerchiefs on my desk that I haggled for at a flea market in Paris. I have a tall jar of colorful buttons from a bankrupt button factory arranged in a gradient on top of my dresser. I have no less than three typewriters scattered throughout my house. I have gathered a dozen glass bottles in the surf of a bay, and now proudly display them on the shelf next to my bedroom window where the light hits them best.

I suppose, if I had to put a name to it, I would be a collector of memories and atypical mementos. In my own words, I am a mudlarking magpie. I am fascinated by the slightly peculiar, and I revel in the quirks of found objects. I preserve my important moments with tiny trinkets, like autumn leaves between pages of library books, in hopes that they are someday found by a complete stranger.

My memories are preserved it objects of no great worth. Five fond years of summer camp have boiled down to a finger sized piece of barnacle encrusted driftwood. Four years of varsity running has only supplied a handful of dull pyramidal spike pins that I wore in my very first race. These tiny collections, although they are not glamorous by any means, are things that have defined my experiences and created a complex three dimensional scrapbook of my life. I hope that someday, should some handsome archeologist discover these tiny knickknacks, he or she will realize that they have all been much loved.

hello again, again.

It is February and I have missed you.
I have tried to keep myself occupied, and I have managed to keep myself busy and tired.
I have writing to share with you sometime, should you want it.

front page!

One of my photographs made it to the front page of Etsy earlier today! It's a print called Psyche and Cupid. I photographed Antonio Canova's famous sculpture when I was at the Louve.


click on that picture to see the listing in question! I was very surprised and very happy. I got about 800 views on it today- which was an enormous amount of people looking at a photograph that I took and I am very much shocked.

jokes from a 5 year old

knock knock
who's there?
banana!
banana who?
lamp!

knock knock
who's there?
pepperoni!
pepperoni who?
shallow water!

my cousin really likes knock knock jokes. try them on your friends!

edit: he can also quote star wars!

fear leads to anger. anger leads to hate. hate leads to suffering. suffering leads to tangerines.

excuses

becoming busy as school starts again. you will probably not see a lot of me here in the next couple of weeks or months, as I get entangled with school work and applications and deadlines.

as per usual, I've been occupying my time with running and with art. both have been difficult as of late, but rewarding. running feels much more tangible lately, as I can measure my success in more exact ways. still, I'm spending a few hours per week in my studio class trying to do observed drawing and figuring out what my aesthetic actually is.

I took the SAT earlier today (for the final time?) and I am working on applying to colleges. this is my final year of high school and it makes me feel many different things all at once.

that is all for now. I am tired and a little sore.

I hope to be seeing you all soon.