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Because I'm writing a paper about it, a poem:

Pictures from Brueghel: I. Self-Portrait
William Carlos Williams

In a red winter hat blue
eyes smiling
just the head and shoulders

crowded on the canvas
arms folded one
big ear the right showing

the face slightly titled
a heavy wool coat
with broad buttons

gathered at the neck reveals
a bulbous nose
but the eyes red- ( Read more... )

Redid the color scheme of my journal - the title, too. Welcome to Winter '05, home of snow and lyrics to '60s pop songs. :)

When I draw now, I draw my woman with smaller breasts and bigger hips than I used to.

I wonder if I'm mimicking me.

Tonight I realized that if I were to meet my two best friends for the first time today - without having grown up with them and known them most of my life - I don't even know if I would be friends with them. We're amazingly different people. If I were to meet Hannah, I would probably think she was nice, but a little prudish. If I were to meet Amy, I ( Read more... )

I feel so smug, and I didn't even do any of the work. Mothers are wonderful to have around in times of need, no? Mom was wonderful and hung all of my picture for me. It's so screwed up, it really is. I go from Kinkaid on my calendar to my Great-Uncle Boris's shadowed streetscape watercolor (it's indescribable, and the way I described it is horrible ( Read more... )