Mixed Media by K Smith

this collage mixed media method is something i’ve been perfecting for over a year now.

it’s quilt work. with paper.

the crazy quilting style has a specific format. a focus point is 5 sided and the rest is built around it.

to finish a square, it is bound.

or framed. with paper.

the making of these is meditative. i really enjoy making them.

i’ve wanted to implement my photography into my collage work for some time.

I nailed this mixed media process with non-nude work pre-pandemic for a summer solo show i was preparing for. yup, an artist talk and a solo photography exhibit

that is now, very unfortunately, not happening.

the nude photographs that these are made with have been in my drawer for a long while. like years.

you know me best. there are stories within these photographs

just like the stitching is another form of narrative.

This nude piece was the first i made, in relationship to a full moon.

it reveals the reality of alone. separate corners/ spaces

and it reveals the desire, the deep desire for cherish.

this piece is different because it came from a prompt.

that prompt is where the narrative was found.

8.5×11

make sense??

I made these 4×6 collages next.

gotta love what the  back side looks like ( uh, the rainbow, not me.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

as my pattern seems to be.

i sometimes find i want to work larger.

i love the man and deer in this one. ( 8.5×11)

yes, the nude is upside down

these are the other 8.5 x 11’s, the last being the piece that is going to be in the virtual group show in Chicago opening june 5th

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

only one collate. this one, a nipple in a black square is not a crazy quilt style like the others. it’s an 8×8

 

all are for sale of course!

 

 

It’s NOT awful

what if i said that living in times of pandemic isn’t awful

would that be a GASP of a comment?

what if all the alone that i know and that you endure with me

is in her element.

there i said it. i am actually content.

i may have to stay inside

as all of us have been called on to do

i do that anyway.

i have lived this isolated way for a long while now.

i know this life

I might be poor

i might be alone

but I HAVE
SO MUCH. 

there is content.

and there is gratitude.

2 years ago my building was painted. it went from this hideous red sortof color to a lovely bright white

i started calling it my ivory tower.

if my beard gets any longer

we could add the element of rapunzel to the mix

( ok that just seriously made me laugh )

and yes, i amuse me myself and i often.

a recent tarot card pull

found a woman holding a cat

wearing a very very tall dress

filled with hearts.

i saw myself in this card.

the cat lady in her tower.

the card made my laugh actually

it was so revealing

the card was about contentment.

it affirmed OK-ness.

such a simple thing

what sucks the life out of contentment

or being you in the matter

is comparing.

so and so does this.

so and so looks this way

so and so is in love.

If you let it

comparing messes with contentment

it calls out

on the MORE

BETTER

NOT good enough.

It messes with you.

I feel that.

i know those thoughts.

who cares what someone else is doing?

This does not include those I know that are so so very sick right now.

That part just envelopes me with an indescribable helplessness

I don’t know how to help.

and when we add that it’s wordly.

well, that’s a larger empathic swell.

it’s so so much bigger than me

The biggest lesson right now for me

is

I am OK.

I am good.

I am alone

and i am lonely

yet. that’s me.

right??

it’s what is so.

all said,

that does not mean i am FINE.

Fine is so. ORDINARY

Fine says nothing about how one is.

I am definitely not ordinary

( taken recently. i love them)

 

 

Attracted To

you and i have probably had more time on our hands than usual lately.

pandemic and all.

i sometimes wonder if the all chatter going on inside my head was written down somewhere,

what it might say.

how many different directions would it be dialoguing (sp??)

when you’ve done alone for as long as i have

you get use to the chatter in your brain.

i have these epic dreams sometimes

and think, gosh, i just never stop.

the thing is i don’t want to stop.

i want to be a curious, wondering and idea making being.

i always have.

my own ideas always set me apart from others.

i was very young when i left home. too young.

and i didn’t leave. i ran.

when i came back i never felt very welcome.

there was no belonging.

people who knew me when i left had this impression of me.

when i came back – they held onto what or who they thought i was

that was no longer me.

i had changed.

there was trauma that year.

trauma i didn’t speak about

or even begin to understand until many many years later.

this is true in life.

who i was in college

who i was in marriage

who i was a mother

or a friend.

who i was as a lover.

those are all who i use to be.

what about who i am now?

I think all of us hold onto these ideas we have about what makes us valid.

i want to be and feel useful to another. i want others to be proud of me.

i want cherish. that deep something that is very hard to describe.

the pandemic has been a very very fascinating social experiment

it’s brought out the ugly

its’s brought out the scared.

and it’s brought out the inquiry

who you are in the matter means something.

when someone asks how i am doing.

i feel very grateful.

especially if they listen when you reply

i find i am less attracted to certain folks

the energy or vibe they offer

is not what i want to be a part of

we are all going to be different because of these months of

i know i am.

i like the social isolation.

it’s more me than i knew.


Final Push

It’s the last days of The Funk Machine Show at Jackson Junge Gallery in Chicago. Like many galleries around the world, these last months have found the doors closed to their brick and mortar establishments. This week they are giving a final push and sharing each of the artists in this group show on their social media platforms. The goal is to SELL art!! My photograph is for sale. it’s a 16×20, very glossy print with a great wide, mod black frame!! If you buy art, and support artists. Now is your chance to support me. They will mention me and a bit of a back story about the photo on 5/7. If you are instagram please share the post. Be reminded that I am beginning to develop my presence as artist K Smith, so that I can get my nude art work out there. That said, be mindful of my privacy. Share with respect. I am very grateful for the representation of this gallery!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Still Here

so my cat’s newest antics in the morning to awake me is getting her claw stuck in the tin mirror i have hanging near my bed. it’s not her mission to get stuck, more so the sound her paw makes on it is fun sounding, and to her that’s a way of communicating. i need lessons in cat speak perhaps.

i’m still here. hello. i’m here!!

i had a dream a few nights ago. when i think of this dream it STILL makes me laugh. out loud. all by myself. to tears. roaring with laughter. last night i thought about this dream and ended up sobbing. is the dream a vehicle to remind me of laughter. the tears of joy?? Or should i be troubled by the ridiculousness of the dream.

or am i simply miserable?

i’m still here. hello. i’m here!!

over the decade that i’ve been writing here. few will reach out to me and tell me that they “read me” from blog post to blog post. from the beginning to the current. in one sitting. in one anonymously nude sitting. wow. each time i hear this i feel amazed. remember i thanked someone for being at my blog last week? the high traffic? someone had sat up the entire night. reading me. wow.

one man, long ago, was in an italian coffee shop. he said, there he was in public enjoying this delicious secret. he then went home to his wife. and he told me about her. and his unhappiness of their marriage. i never quite know what to say. thank you? thank you for reading my work. Thank you for enjoying my photography  i don’t usually hear from these men again. they just want me to know that they spent time with me. which is of course rather wonderful.

what I wish is a deeper sense of their experience. i was here isn’t enough. it’s not that the person isn’t enough. i just wish that I WAS MORE.

I’m still here. hello. I’m here!!

the longer things pandemic keep us isolated. the more my personal reality looks me in the face. i never counted the days that i’ve stayed at home before. ( i was last in my car 15 days ago ) 

the truth is, thats rather normal for me. i can do blur of time really well.

it’s what comes with the pandemic mind that I am having trouble with.

i know i do not feel this alone.

this is all a real mind fuck.

an article is circulating. don’t get me started about the stupidity of the press – – it’s about the insensitivity of asking “how are you?”

are you kidding?

the article pissed me off. like fuck you pissed me off.

do not diminish my caring inquiry. do not turn caring and asking into some better politically correct bullshit you should say it this way language. no no no.

I’m here. hello. I’m still here.

Lately, I’ve been turning old nude images of me into art.

i feel rather delighted and proud of them.

and then, i talk myself out of sharing them because

i decide that noone gives a shit.

they don’t want to see my art

they want to see my ass.

i remind myself that i make art not for you

but for me.

but i wish that my art was cherished.

or more so, that i was cherished.

with things pandemic, things art feel like a big thumb squishing my creative mind into the woodwork.

i’m here, hello, I’m still here.

my intimate times with myself are less and less.

and my photographing things intimate

are even less.

but then a moment finds me.

a moment spired usually by some stranger being kind.

and i feel attended to …

for a second.

i’m here. hello. I’m still here.

out of that, my creativity is affirmed.

images like these

which are very me

and very creative

are just a moment in time.

that i give away.

that slips away into internet heaven.

i’m left with

many many strangers

men

and women who

perhaps have a moment of joy.

i should feel satisfied somehow.

i don’t.

this triggers stuff.

emotional stuff.

because that’s what it all is.

one big ball of way too much.

I’m still here. hello. I am here

 

 

 

Isolation

someone spent some time here today. thank you. no comment so, i have no idea who you are just a rather high stat for the weekend.

ran across this recliner image the other day.

it’s NOT the green chair.

this was a free chair – delivered to me. 4 years ago.

it’s since seen better days.

i spend a lot of time in this chair.

while this image sat on my desktop and before i got to writing this post

i thought i’d try and get some self shots in said chair

but with she who chases feet and makes me bleed

under foot all day and night.

well

photography has to be done when she’s asleep.

by then i’m doing something else

because that’s what these days blurred all together are like.

at least spring is very beautiful.

 

Dear Journalist

quite some time ago I ran across an article written by a supposed hirsute journalist. the article angered me. so much so, i sat down and wrote her a letter. i never finished said letter, but came across my notes for it the other day.

i was angry because she went on an on about the right to be hairy but she shaved to please her boyfriend.

she said why should he have to endure her armpits which were an aesthetic assault to those around her. especially her man.

she then went on to say how liberated and furry proud she was. her decision to be hairy was declarative, a feminist act, an aggression of sorts

but for him she shaved

does that make sense??

dear hirsute journalist, i wanted to write to you to acknowledge your recent article, it’s interesting to me what becomes news today. I like you am a hirsute female. I have a long history of trying to fit my natural presence in an unnatural society. i feel perhaps more seasoned in the battle. it’s one thing to personally wrestle with having more hair than those around you. it’s another to find the internal courage to be with it. even more courage to be out loud about it…your article made no sense to me. How can you declare a personal i am hairy victory and shave at the will of a boyfriend?”

that’s as far as the letter got….i remember feeling like the topic of hair was really bait for some whiney article that wasn’t about hirsutism at all.

it made me dislike her.

when i braved growing my legs and armpits out 10 years ago. i was actually VERY brave. when the hair growth was in it’s full glory – it was beautiful. I fell for it as much as you did. The reality and day to day world around me? Not so much. I was shunned. I was verbally assaulted. I was misunderstood.

TODAY — a decade later, and this is why i am writing this post. my pit hair is not nearly as abundant. it’s thinned, it’s not very dark, its certainly not what it use to be. same for the hair on my legs. even my pussy hair is different.

the hair on my face is where the current abundance is.

try that one on dear journalist.