Art, bloggity blog, writing

Thoughts on how abstract art can help you

I was talking to one of my friends this morning about how to get back into the swing of things. She asked me how I got my groove back after I escaped Rock Bottom.

And it took a while, but, in the end what has helped me is blogging and abstract art.

Quite often when we create art we put so much focus on things and it is that focus which we lack when we become blocked.

Blocked = no focus.

No focus = no art/no words.

No art/no words =sad artist.

Well, actually, sadder artist because normally we become blocked because we are sad (or sick or anxious or tired etc)

Abstract art allows you a kind of freedom to be creative without actually having to create something specific. Especially with art forms like acrylic pouring, drip painting, drawing fractals, ink blots and other such “chaos” art.

I call it “chaos” art because it is less about talent and more about luck and outside influence. I’m not saying that it doesn’t take talent or that those who use these forms are talentless, it is simply not as reliant on talent as trying to do sketch wirh charcoal or do an oil painting of your great aunt Petunia.

But it is a way of creating and expressing and getting almost instant results.

Same sort of thing for the blogging. Sometimes, I have no idea wtf I am gonna write about. I haven’t been able to put pen to paper at all. So I just pick a thought floating around in my bubbly grey matter and start madly thumb-typing away.

It is about getting synapses firing.

Blood pumping.

Creative juices bubbling and boiling until they simply spill out of your noggin.

Now I will leave you with a few pickies of the pours I (and by I, I actually mean me and the roomy) finished today.

Love

Amberley

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bloggity blog, writing

I need your help/advice

I cannot decide which novel to concentrate on. I literally write a paragraph of one then change my mind and switch.

Please, cyberfam, advise me on which novel I should put my efforts into.

  1. Epic fantasy series, dark, piratey, demi-gods and goddesses, strange portals that cross over to our world, backstabbing, people getting stabbed in the back/front/side/face & love.
  2. Sci-fi, utopian-dystopia, MC is a kind of bounty hunter kinda sorta not really. Lots of action, aliens and swearing. Maybe a little love. Maybe inter-species lesbians… not sure yet.
  3. New adult novel about a shock artist and his assistant. Think “2 weeks notice” with Sandy Bullock if Huge Grant’s character was a Pollock/Marilyn Manson/Collin Christian… with more sex, drugs, cars and rock n roll and cakes.
  4. They all sound terrible. Go get a real job. Please burn all of your notebooks.

Please and thank you.

Love

Amberley

Art, bloggity blog, writing

Does art have to say something?

As I return to my pour table this week after our many travels, I have found myself asking myself “but what does this piece say?”

My art normally says nothing unless my medium is words, because I choose not to use living subjects. But this is of course not what I fucking mean, is it? What I mean is “what am I trying to say?”

And what is my answer? I dunno, Amberley, what the fuck do you want to say?

I think, most of the time, my art doesn’t say anything. Sometimes, you can see the emotions I was feeling when I made the piece. Sometimes, it is a reflection of my personality. Sometimes, I just liked the way those colours went together or they were the only colours I had.

I think the same can be said for writing too. Sometimes we write something because we want to say something else. Sometimes we directly write about a subject so bluntly it is like getting smacked in the face with a giant dildo. Sometimes, we don’t want to say anything. We just feel like writing an entertaining blood-fest starring jungle pirates and cowboy faeries.

Does it make our work any less valid?

Does it change peoples perception of our work?

And does it even fucking matter what the author/artist wanted to say?

I did a painting a couple of months ago. I completely abstract one. I just liked the colours.

Someone really liked it and wanted it. But they liked it cause they saw a frog in it. I couldn’t see the frog. But they could. I didn’t paint a frog. But they saw one.

So, do we really need to be saying something or expressing something if others will only interpret it their own way anyway? Or is this the point? The sharing. The differnt views.

I dunno.

Love

Amberley

bloggity blog

Fashionably late to the party

I never catch a fad when it is happening.

I swear.

Fandoms come and go and two years or more later I will stumble across them and be like “AH HA!” That’s what all those weirdos were going on about…

I only started watching My Little Pony.

I have just started listening/reading The Dark Tower series.

I just got Bitmoji and a FitBit.

And so on.

But I guess it doesn’t matter when you discover something new. What matters is that you keep discovering new things.

So go find something new for you and if you have any weird things you are currently fascinated by, please tell me about them in the comments.

Love

Amberley

bloggity blog

Thoughts on hotel rooms and single-parenting

I’m in a hotel room. Again.

No tent for us today. There is something to be said for spending some time in hotel rooms.

I can’t help but think of the people who were in the room before me. The good times had in the room, the fights, the sex, the sadness, the car racing. Yep. We are staying at a hotel on a car racing track.

I wonder how many women have been paid for the use of their orifices in this room.

I wonder about the litres of alcohol and the crazy amounts of drugs that have definitely been consumed in this room.

Hotels seem to be these modern day Sodoms where all the unholy things can happen.

Yet I am sharing my room with my two kids and about forty plush toys.

Oh and any single parents who are also authors or artists out there that actually get any work done and still get all meals into their kids bellies and interact with their kids… yep… kudos to you. Cause this shit is hard.

The old me may have envied the person who stayed in this room before me having all the alcohol and acrobatic sex they could squeeze in between check in and check out. But right now, there is no place I’d rather be.

Love

Amberley

bloggity blog

Still Breathing

The thing about hitting rock bottom is that you never really know when you are there until you start to build up from it. Or until you are away from it.

You can assume that “it couldn’t get any worse,” but these words are often folly and should be treated in the same way as “Lord Voldemort,” (For the muggles – don’t fucking say it out loud)

Sometimes we find ourselves so broken we do not know what to do, where do we go from whatever shit-heap life has dolloped on us. But that is the thing about “Rock Bottom” is it can be a perfectly solid foundation on which we can rebuild ourselves.

And quiet often people get stuck here, in this mental and emotional wastelands that is Rock Bottom. We become so afraid to continue on, so afraid to live, that we get stuck floundering.

Rock Bottom is sort of like a basement/dead-end-town. Sometimes we have to go down there, forced to tip-toe down the creaky steps, breathing in the putrid, mouldy air, but it is not good for us to make a bed down there and exist down there. It is not living. We become hollowed out and empty.

Residency in Rock Bottom should be short lived, if possible. But, if you find yourself there, building your life back up should start immediately. The building process doesn’t need to be quick. Slow and precise is probably preferable. As long as there is some upwards movement, some growth, some positive change.

If you aren’t the building type, in Rock Bottom there is this place, kind of like a lookout. But from there you can actually see a great deal – often both bad and good. You can actually jump from this place. This is the only way to get to the good things you can see in the distance. The problem is that there is no concrete guarantee that you will land with the good.

And to take this leap you have to have a certain amount of faith. This faith does not have to be in God or gods or the universe or The Flying Spaghetti Monster. It can be in yourself. Failing all of those options, it could be faith in your desperation to get the fuck out of Rock Bottom.

I know I am rambling. Forgive me and please understand that this is as much for my own healing than it is to spread some sort of hope to the people.

I read a really good article by EC Myers on TerribleMinds and that is to do with Dystopian worlds and how they are a mirror of the way our current world is travelling. And it made me think of all this stuff.

We are often trying to do so much for the greater good or for others that we fo not take the time to look at our own stuff. Or we are so caught up in Rock Bottom that we forget about the big crazy world around us.

Both are provlems but they are fixable and the strategies are sort of the same.

Pick a goal. Head for that goal. Stop for nothing.

Choose small, easy to reach goals and then once you have completed that goal then pick another.

If your goal is to “become a rich and famous author,” that’s a fucking hard goal. Start small. “I’m going to write a book. I’m going to write said book 500 words at a time.”

Or, if you are new to Rock Bottom, you could start smaller. “I’m going to get out of bed today.” “I am going to take a shower today.” “I will eat something other than coffee or rum or chocolate … maybe not instead of but as well as.”

My psychologist had set the goal for me to “get my life back on track.” I told her, “first, I need to build a track because I fear that I never really had one.” And if I did have a track then it was one of those ones that kids play with, you know, the wooden ones that click together.

If you made it this far, (congrats and thank you!) then you may be as broken as I am. If you are, you are not alone. Remember that broken bones heal, broken people heal, it is possible to come back from Rock Bottom stronger than you were before.

Just remember, you are still breathing.

Love,

Amberley.