(no subject)
AAAH WHAT THE FUCK.
WHEN DID MY ZODIAC SIGN BECOME THE MOST HOMOEROTIC SNAKE WRESTLER EVER? ALSO COMPLETELY UNPRONOUNCABLE?
I'm feeling very confused and distressed about my place in life. All these years thinking I was a dynamic, open-hearted, and proud Sagittarius. And that my colors were fiery reds and purples.
Fuck that shit, I'm sticking with the centaur. Piss me off and I'll shoot you in the ass.
ETA: Brought my painting home. Still incomplete save for a brick wall, a flight of steps with shit shading on one step that I have to fix, a vase, and an expanse of painted tile. Did I mention the time when I finished the gorgeous deep-orange tile, looked at the insipid tan brick, then re-painted said brick with layers of deep red and yellow-orange toned with brown, dragging it on over half-dry paint to create texture like an old wall with ten paint colors showing through and then drybrushing on countless shades of yellow-orange, red-orange, brown-orange, to make it look mottled and old and real? Because I totally did that.
Will either steal crazy art teacher's paint and brushes for my own nefarious purposes, or drag the canvas back to school and work on it during lunch. Who needs food when you have art? I'll take a picture first, though, so you can see the contrast between the finished sections and the bare sketched canvas, because I think it's cool.
But without the annoying chair in the corner, and also the tile is a sort of abstract vine-thing because I didn't feel like doing guys on horses. It's kind of a large pattern, so it probably ruins the scale somewhat, but I don't give a damn. Warm color scheme limitation.
WHEN DID MY ZODIAC SIGN BECOME THE MOST HOMOEROTIC SNAKE WRESTLER EVER? ALSO COMPLETELY UNPRONOUNCABLE?
I'm feeling very confused and distressed about my place in life. All these years thinking I was a dynamic, open-hearted, and proud Sagittarius. And that my colors were fiery reds and purples.
Fuck that shit, I'm sticking with the centaur. Piss me off and I'll shoot you in the ass.
ETA: Brought my painting home. Still incomplete save for a brick wall, a flight of steps with shit shading on one step that I have to fix, a vase, and an expanse of painted tile. Did I mention the time when I finished the gorgeous deep-orange tile, looked at the insipid tan brick, then re-painted said brick with layers of deep red and yellow-orange toned with brown, dragging it on over half-dry paint to create texture like an old wall with ten paint colors showing through and then drybrushing on countless shades of yellow-orange, red-orange, brown-orange, to make it look mottled and old and real? Because I totally did that.
Will either steal crazy art teacher's paint and brushes for my own nefarious purposes, or drag the canvas back to school and work on it during lunch. Who needs food when you have art? I'll take a picture first, though, so you can see the contrast between the finished sections and the bare sketched canvas, because I think it's cool.
But without the annoying chair in the corner, and also the tile is a sort of abstract vine-thing because I didn't feel like doing guys on horses. It's kind of a large pattern, so it probably ruins the scale somewhat, but I don't give a damn. Warm color scheme limitation.