A Day In Our Lives #15

Hey guys,

I found my apple pencil! This week I am including another art piece that took longer to work on. Two of my posts so far have featured dinosaurs because I am extremely interested in them! I created this art piece first by drawing out the perspective lines on paper, and then I took a photo of the drawing on my phone. I sent the image to my iPad and colored it in a monochrome grey palette. I really wanted to focus on perspective and lighting in this drawing. I like how the energy of this drawing turned out.

A little update about campus life, I went to the snowball fight on the Diag with my friends this week! I encourage you all to attend cute events like this because it was a really cool and really made me feel like I was a part of the UofM community.

See you next week!

Marissa

 

 

Intrusive Thoughts

Some people write poems about becoming a mother 

I write about losing mine 

 

Who will tell me to tuck or untuck my shirt

Zippers or laces for shoes

 

We’re all masquerading as ourselves 

Expertly crafting moments and memories 

 

How do people find joy in life

Revel in its impermanence 

 

How do people find joy in life

Seek strength in its disturbance 

LOG-018: redshift

THE NARRATOR – Thousands of years of civilization, hundreds of years of exploration, lifetimes spent searching. Only for all of it to boil down to this.

YOU – What do you mean?

THE NARRATOR – One massive anticlimax.

CHIAROSCURO – You’ve searched every corner bright and dark, but not everything’s meant to be found. Life’s full of disappointments; surely, you would have learned that lesson by now.

MIDNIGHT SUN – The light that once flared now flickers and fades…

CREPUSCULARITY – It is a slow but steady march towards an inexorable fate: one day, this world will cease.

LOGIC – Oh, quit the dramatics. More likely, this exaggerated fate is simply the product of an overactive and anxious imagination. It is a miracle that you still function.

YOU – What? Why?

APHELION – Perhaps it is better that you have forgotten.

YOU – You reach deep into memory, but only recall fleeting impressions: fire unfurling around you. A flash of tooth and scale, a gleaming portent. Liquid glass, slowing to a trickle, its shimmering kaleidoscope of eye-watering color searing your retinas. Dizzying.

MIDNIGHT SUN – Painful.

YOU – What really happened?

DIRECTIVE – It would be easier to ask what *didn’t* happen: everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Everything failed.

DIRECTIVE – *You* failed.

RHETORIC – Let’s be reasonable, here. It was a cascade of failures, an error so large no one being could be solely responsible, even if you had played a part in it.

META-ANALYSIS – Industrial sabotage, development oversights, exceeding safety margins — even strange quantum phenomena — the list goes on.

DIRECTIVE – Does it even matter? Here in the dark and bitter cold, it won’t change a thing.

RHETORIC – No. It won’t.

YOU – But does that matter?

APHELION – No. It won’t.

ENDURANCE – You’ll keep going.

CREPUSCULARITY – You’re foolish to subject yourself to this any further.

YOU – Well, you know what they say about humans and irrationality.

APHELION – Yes. You’ll keep going, even if it means clawing your way back blinded and deafened and numbed, again and again and again.

EMPATHY – Maybe none of it matters. But it meant something to you. *Means* something. And that is enough reason.

APHELION – It will have to be.

Chroma #10: Post-Slump Pancakes

This week, I painted an interaction between two friends, possibly the morning after a difficult night. I wanted it to be bittersweet, with the one on the ground clearly going through a rough patch. This turmoil is alleviated by the friend at the forefront, who made pancakes for their friend. I wanted to show a dynamic in which these two friends look out for each other, even if maybe they’re not ready to talk about their problems. I hope everyone has friends who are there to make pancakes for them when they’re in a slump.

Evolving Emotions: Anger- Poetry

A’s, B’s, C’s, and D’s

 

Planted on a peculiar carpet

you examine the lanes

sectioned off with yellow stripes

and white lines

 

Patches of green grass

encircle the buildings,

each with their own symbol

and saturated design

 

Behind you is a dull

knock

 

Against your back

lay the bulk of your once proud tower

 

A’s and B’s

C’s and D’s

strewn about the carpet

 

By your side

is a pigtailed girl

with pronounced teeth

and corduroy pants

 

She did this.

 

Swept up

you shriek and scream

a gut-wrenching howl

over the tower lost

and dignity torn

 

Tears flow down

with a scowl of bright fury.

Outstretched,

your hands wave

 

pleading for attention,

a witness to this injustice,

this crime of heinous intent.

 

You cry out for the giant

looming over the threshold

to bring about your uprising

and snatch her and her pigtails

in a fit of glory

 

With a turn of the head

thunderous booms

and scooping arms

 

The giants lifts you,

meeting the air

 

This is not what is just.

 

You shriek once more

flailing limbs to break free

from this traitorous captor

 

Your eyes meet the lettered blocks

and the hands

rearranging them

before you are carried away

 

For an hour-long slumber.