Doorknob

i feel tired sometimes in a way that exhausts me

that the hold it all together somehow

gumption

has fallen flat,

that an all consuming tired has taken over.

in pandemic times i took on DO.

do things to keep me busy

do things to challenge me

do

things.

the energy to do is just not on target always.

some days are not as

listless

mondays however are seriously

too much tired.

i’ve got some health stuff.

i am sure that adds to the tired.

and some drama.

i heard that my father died.

the family didn’t tell me until 6 weeks after the fact.

the hurt and anger i feel that they did not tell me comes and goes

waves.

not a sense of loss

a huge pissed off feeling instead.

i masturbated the other day and injured my parts.

like a wound.

who does that?

there were two photos from the set below

one is full length

the full length one bothered me because my ankles are covered in scars

from my cat.

not sharing that one.

i am fat, bearded, scarred and pissed.

lovely!

the image i decided to share today

shows how long my hair has gotten

but check out that doorknob.

that’s the real picture right there

A Tone Of Sorts

gee, 5 years already.

today marks an anniversary

i got dumped on this day.

such a mix of i really knew better and this isn’t working reality

but shit, i so didn’t have a plan.

just weeks prior

these images were taken.

i don’t know how these happened

actually.

he was not easy to work with in this way.

participating within my creative ideas and all.

these are a vibrant set of images

that i really love.

perhaps he was enjoying himself too?

the tone of them is immediate.

as circumstances go it was a long weekend

my standing in the doorway shirtless would otherwise have not have been a thing to do.

today.

for fun, or to honor said five years – i removed him, leaving just his hand.

a ceremony of sorts.

creative ceremony

with a bit of fuck you on the side.

felt demonstrative to do that.

i like them even more.

in things pandemic

these images sure resonate with the word TOUCH

or 

the lack of.

or in my case, the lack of.

since leaving him. 

forever ago.

i feel like screaming TOUCH ME from the roof tops.

an ache that is rattling inside me.

i know you feel that too.

i sometimes feel the weight of all of us missing normalcy.

as days go today

i am in a mood of sorts

distracted to derailed

to

i can’t remember the third “d” word.

angry. annoyed.

the top image with the doorknob is my very favorite.

 

 

 

 

Goddess

I’ve been wondering about GODDESS.

not woo woo goddess

not mystical goddess

or religious goddess.

at least literally.

i mean figuratively.

i mean the adored goddess

the old, fat, wise one.

and HER shape.

bear with me. pondering post ahead.

A goddess is a female deity. Goddesses have been linked with virtues such as beauty, love, sexuality, motherhood and fertility. They have also been associated with ideas such as war, creation, and death. In some faiths, a sacred female figure holds a central place in religious prayer and worship. ( wikipedia )

when you and i met

12 years ago.

TWELVE YEARS AGO!

i had just lost a bit of weight.

i can’t remember if i ever divulged how much weight i lost

when i began photographing  myself here at anonymously nude

i had just lost 100 pounds.

yay me!!

i irst posted to show courage, and to understand what another sees.

the camera and my minds eye told two different stories

i found self love before self love was a hashtag

i LIKED what i was then.

in 2015, eight years later, a surge of unexplained weight gain occurred.

enough gain to scare me.

35 lbs in 30 days.

i blew up.

it felt like i blew up

the gain was like get to the dr scare me.

“you must be menopausal ” the endocrinologist said.

SIGH

fast forward to now. 2020

all that weight. all those ONE HUNDRED POUNDS

is back.

UGH. it didn’t happen over night, the 2015 surge started it all …

recent dr work confirms – I don’t have cancer, or a brain tumor

YAY.

but two years into figuring IT out

i can’t lose weight.

i’ve lost my knees, and my feet hurt

and my thighs are thick.

and my self love is

HARD.

really hard to find the love

reasons why, like health reasons are still being explored.

BACK to goddess.

I began wondering about community

because to have that level of adoration one has to earn it.

bear with me.

i was back in town – the town i grew up in

on a break from school,

this guy from my grade school life

pumped my gas.

we talked for a really really long time

and he was a such delight.

like a guy i just wanted to hug.

and seeing him again and the feeling of our great conversation lingered

my growing up was detached from the community i lived in

he alone in those moments,  made me feel like i belonged somehow.

and then he died. death by choking on his vomit death.

horrified. mortified. not even equipped to …

i didn’t have the f-ing guts to attend the funeral.

because if i did that would have meant that i was part of the community somehow.

i’ve never spoken about this.

i have been thinking about how i was raised.

my one sibling and i agree

we were not parented.

we made it up as we went along.

literally.

who influenced me???

definitely the mothers of my friends, the librarians – is that weird? i loved those ladies. I felt so welcome and loved at the library, the nuns? uh no? ( actually … i’d have to think hard about that one. what characters those nuns were. perhaps there is more influence than i give credit . different conversation) 

MY POINT is in order to establish SELF AS GODDESS

one has to have a community who adores THEE.

perhaps that’s why i am here on the interweb.

is this why i’ve kept myself here?

This gets me to the history of where you didn’t belong

the million moves

the hyper focus of survival

the mortification of things failed

the make it up as you go along.

the WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU in the matter of.

ALL of this wondering was spired by a recent set of photos that

i see goddess in

SOMEHOW.

SHE is in there.

Finally,

why does said goddess have to be manifested in a physical form.

could my art, my thoughts and actions, could my knowledge be enough value?

somehow NOT rising to said goddess status feels way more authentic.

way more me.

way more earthly.

i mean, really who do i think i am anyway??

perhaps somewhere in the history of this blog there was that level of goddess adoration.

so much so, i felt assured and confident in that attention and in that following.

things change.

its so quiet here.

I drafted this post in early july.

one might think it’s yesterdays news but it is not

the goddess theme is finding me

in odd, mysterious and wonderful ways.

so far,  it has nothing to do with a nude alter ego

imagine that.

below, and behold

fat and wise

me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And You Thought You Had A Plan

if only i had a plan.

perhaps at some point in time i had one.

today.

no plan.

a part of me

is rather ok with that.

i know a lot of people.

i don’t say that to be boasty.

or to even begin to think that i am popular.

i am not.

i say that because i began collecting and observing others very young

over time, i saw things, observed things, noticed ….things.

lots of folks think they have it all planned out

straight path

straight arrow

point a to point b

linear

do this and this will follow.

my gal friend just paid off her burial spot.

if you knew her, you would feel as endeared by that as I

another couple i know were very prepared for retirement

actually they are probably the only couple I know

who got it right.

created and implemented THE plan for and lived a cushy no worry retirement.

this my dear she said is what you work for.

but for most that i know. truthfully

it doesn’t look like that at all.

and for some on the other side of all that planned living?

like elder/retirement years?

it’s not what they thought it would be.

even if they did all the right things.

they are miserable

and that just makes me sad.

perhaps traditional planning is a croc of shit.

i mean this year?  who could have ever planned for a year like 2020?

are you a news addict?

are you a junkie for being in the know?

sometimes i wonder if one took the time one wasted watching, reading and listening to the news — how much time that would actually be?

news is a drama filled spoon of bullshit fed to the masses

it’s calculated bullshit

folks eat it up.

and what do you really know ?

the truth?

that your weather man wears a tutu?

that the anchor woman got a new push up bra?

when news is real, and needs to be shared.

does telling the same thing. rinse and repeat

move the reality of that news story forward?

for air time?

for likes,

and readership?

why i am lumping a plan and the news into the same pondering is beyond me.

in current times

pandemic

upheaval

hatred

and voices vying to be heard.

the NOISE

of it

has me on edge.

it has me question everything

i even feel defensive.

IF i don’t rally with pink ribbons, rainbow socks, and fists of black and white

does that make me any less of a person?

if the judgement day finds me

and says I am less.

who do they – those who judge, who the f do they think that they are?

is that bullying?

I am left with such a sorting.

WHO am I in the matter

and why?

I think the idea of a having plan is what sparked this thought process.

History didn’t have a plan. 

as you and i spend time together.

we too are making history.

even if we have NO idea what we are doing.

AND I AM NUDE.

what’s that about?

 

 

 

 

Part Lines

i will sometimes part my hair for pig tails when it’s been 6 days. i wash my hair on the 7th day. its a bit like pony tail hair only different. i love the crispness of the back part, and i love that at the base of my neck there is still a semblance of my real hair color. the before i silvered color. i love the varied colors all plaited into braids. so many different shades of … i once had the most delicious dark dark almost black brown hair with streaks of auburn. i love my hair long now and wish that i had let it grow long sooner. i have a collection of the worst hair styles on the planet. one in particular left me feeling embarrassed, like what was i thinking?? even still, for all the positives. i feel like a dork in pig tail/braids.

the part line also represents boundary lines to me.

emotional boundaries.

made a list yesterday of anonymously nude fans crossing the line during this last year.

it’s already been a strange year.

i wanted to be clear in my mind why they got blocked or why the line was made, or why things fall apart/fleet or disappear as they almost always do.

i also made a list of those who have been fans for a long while.

that list was much longer. and that list warmed my heart.

i am glad the lines get more and more defined for me.

i am glad for no.

or for delete.

or for the block feature.

those ends need a good healthy trim.

SIGH.


 

As Usual

the highlight of my things pandemic long holiday weekend include:

very little blog traffic, or internet presence which is as usual on any weekend.

more so though on a holiday one.

a complete loss of time. which i happen to love.

a frozen macaroni and cheese. kid you not, the best.

and a lot of art making. which i am not sure many of you really give a shit about. which i get. you are not here for collages. perhaps my timing was bad when i chose to post/share them.

there was some not so nice behavior from a fan. kindly note i will block those who continue bad behavior. i offer a layer of opportunity for redemption but not much.

this post “don’t be an asshole” applies.

there was also some very wonderful sweetness and communications from some of you.

thank you. thank you very much.

for this alone gal

your reaching out to me means a lot.

warms my heart

and reminds me that i am of value

human

and not alone.

OFF

tomorrow is thursday.

a week ago, on thursday i thought it was wednesday

i then proceeded to think friday was thursday.

i was on the wrong day for two entire days

oblivious.

when i found out it was friday.

imagine how mortified i felt.

imagine the befuddlement

for the life of me i can’t figure out how i did it.

HOW on earth???

and noone said anything.

if you recall i’ve done this one other time before

and felt equally puzzled by it.

WTF.

i can only blame pandemic times.

my good news of the week is that i am in a virtual group show in chicago.

it opens june 5th.

it’s my first opening since early march.

that steam punk show got lost in the pandemic shuffle.

the theme for this one is “touch”

i had done this piece about masturbation

i felt it was a good fit for the art call.

while the show was juried, one piece was gauranteed an in

i only sent in the one.

the 8.5 x 11 mixed media piece includes an image i took a good 10 years ago.

i then made it into a crazy quilt style panel. using magazines, stitching and ribbon. The edges are bound like a quilt. the collage has a baroque feel I think.

with regard to this image at that time i wondered what masturbation might “look like” this was a take on it that i loved. using a timer.

i am very proud of this. its a unique one of a kind piece.

i’ve made others.

let me know if you feel curious to see them.

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)

 

 

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