A Little Less Demure
A Little Less Demure
“Don't mistake her milk for blood, she is here to deliver you
She is here to give, she suffers for you
She is pumping the very blood that runs through your veins
Watch as you come to life, watch the color begin to change
As she depletes herself, your crimson flesh and feathers grow stronger
Seed ot surviving machine and you the empty vase in
Does she love you yet? Will you like the shades that you become?
Product of your environment, you rest assured you'll be the same boy tomorrow
Soft, sweet and beautiful, hold onto the beast that
bleeds
Dream catchers break hearts eventually, lullabies only fade
I hope you're not disappointed by all the girls and pearls baby
I know I was."
I wrote my heart out onto a blank page with lipstick, splattered cake all over the floor and proceeded to make a dress.
Behind the scenes of “Birth Expectations” 36×60’’ oil on panel
Flamingos are wild creatures. I traveled to Aruba this past week to visit the birds on this small but beautiful island. This is just the beginning of a wild journey through the tunnels of the brain of a girl who is attracted to all things that are strange. As I begin what seems like a pink and chaotic painting marathon, 1am still finding it hard to believe I actually spent quality time with these birds. I was able to stand in knee deep water about 12 inches from them as they patted the ground with their skinny and freakishly long legs; looking for food in hidden places. Their eyes are like pearls. They shed often and they quack like swans do. I never saw them fly but they do balance on one leg and fall asleep this way. If you are lucky they will take food from your hand. They are aloof but gentle. They are slow moving and seem to be unfazed by the environment of humans drinking cocktails and spreading lotion on themselves. They are so very pink and oddly enchanting. I was the visitor and they were the hosts and it was a great pleasure to witness their lives.
Painting flamingos in Aruba while being documented by Raymar Panels
A girl with a powdered face, model, Kristin Shiraef
A flamboyance of flamingos is a wild sight to be seen.
Why are Flamingos pink? They are an example of "We are what we eat!"
The birds diet consists of shrimp and algae which consist of carotenoids. This is what makes them vibrantly pink.
The flamingo mother will feed her young crop milk, a red substance that resembles blood. This is what makes the babies plumage pink. During this process the mother bird will lose her pigmentation. She will turn a light pink color, even white. She regains her pigmentation after her baby becomes independent.
The outer appearance of the flamingo is sensitive and expressive. They are transparent birds, showing the very stages of life they are in, showing their gender and revealing what they consume. They are the epitome of we are what we eat, we become our surroundings.
Behind the scenes with model, Iris Asmundar
A scenery of smashed cupcakes, lipstick and rococo themed frames
The making of the calligraphic backdrop
Behind the scenes with model, Kristin Shiraef
On site, Aruba Beach
Are we merely prisoners within palace walls?
The Rococo movement, which emerged in the early 18th century France, was known for its decorative and flirtatious interpretation of royalty; a lavish and decedent scenery was made for this project in hopes to capture the outrageousness of such an era.
Behind the scenes with model, Kristin Shiraef
Ink, blood, milk, cadmium, it's all the same when captured for a moment in time in the studio. Many props have been made to depict this bizarre, rococo themed scenery. Anyone can be fooled into loving a color that they previously did not before.
This is why art and fashion are magical. The human brain has the amazing capacity to both fool and to be fooled. How impressionable are we? And with the right story, atmosphere, design, talent and coercion, any color is attractive.
I am a person who hates pink. I wanted to challenge myself to find ways to love it and then let it go. I found myself despising the pastel palette used in the old rococo paintings. I am so turned off by the fluffiness and yet I felt this was a proper metaphor for how I felt living in a world that was not mine to live in, being in a place that was beautiful to some but for me remained an untrue environment. I decided to make a series surrounding this feeling of being alone in a world that on the outside seems comfortable and polished but on the inside, a complete nightmare for a strange and sensitive artist soul like myself. Perhaps in a world like this they just have different expectations in who we should be and how we should conduct ourselves.
Flesh and Feathers, 12x12’’ oil on panel