(no subject)
In figure drawing we had a nude model--a girl who goes to school here. I see her all the time. She walked in to our room wrapped in a blue blanket. She stood on the raised platform, put the blanket on the floor, and did all these beautiful, crazy, bendy poses while we sat around her in a circle drawing her. On her breaks she would wrap up again and come talk to us, explain her tattoos, say no she isn't getting too cold. The studio is four stories up and lined with windows overlooking downtown. She could see all the cars passing, I don't know if they could see her, standing naked in the middle of a room, face and arms thrust back, her ribs rising and falling, her breath louder than the heater set at her feet.
Journal entry for Rites of Passage:
Being alone, being here and alone, I feel I am constantly and slowly dripping up, dissipating in to some paranoid, thin vapor, some void I feel I will be pulled in to and unable to escape. Ryan coaxes me out of my nightmares and his care has turned my dreams in to fairytales. In them we save the innocents and own a car that flies. We had twisted pipe cleaners and streamers in to its sides and so it flew. When the car crashes in to an airport the old people and the police try to catch us but we always get back up in the sky in time, laughing in their faces, crashing through their windows. It will be a smack in the face when I am made to believe in time.
-- I am going to post drawings from class as soon as I can borrow a camera. I am excited about them.