Stone Work

Chances are that we knew a lot more about getting our aggressions out in the stone age than we do now.  I don't mean to say that cave men and women didn't arrive home exhausted after a day of hunting and gathering.  No.  Actually I'm saying that life was rougher back then.  But they didn't have all this other stuff around them to throw around, probably not even scissors (gasp!) to cut things up.  So when they needed to let off some steam, they either went down to the local watering hole and skipped rocks.  Or on worse days, traipsed on down to the nearest rock slide and banged a few rocks on other rocks.  Just the sound must have been exhilarating.

The point I'm trying to make with this post is that everyone even you, me, the cavemen and women we have inside of us, could use a way to get our aggressions out and our rocks off.  This picture was actually taken at the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and to be fair, the floor comes from a time after my cave fantasy, when history was already being written.  And I fear, it was made by slaves.  But I imagine the slave breaking his back, lifting up just one more boulder, seeing the ugly face of the foreman on it and smashing it into bits and pieces.

Which brings me to my next point and a quote I really like by Ms Cherrie Currie of the girl rocker band, The Runaways.  As far as I understood from the article in the New York Times from Monday March 22, 2010, she is now a chain-saw artist and no longer involved in the rock and roll world.  She says about her sculptures made out of wood:  "It's just me, a chain saw and a log and no one's telling me what to do."  With those words, I leave you today, because you just can't cut up that quote to make it any better.
Yours,
Mrs Crocodile

A big bouquet for you today!

Big sigh.  The rain pours down.  Oh!  but suddenly, what do I see?   The clouds open up and I can breathe in the big blue sky!  Here is a bouquet of flowers for the faithful readers and followers of this blog. 

One would think that flowers are completely useless and most things are actually, especially when you cut them up, like me.  I mean to say, cutting up things as a fetish is great but, there are a lot of completely useless bits of paper lying around here.  But who cares?  It was my birthday, then mother's day and I was reminded that all I really need in life is a bunch of flowers and a bottle of bubbly to be pretty happy most days.  Try it you might like it.  Those of you who have read other blog posts of mine might remember that actually I said I needed other things, like a full fridge, a tree-house, scissors, well, it changes daily, n'est-ce pas? 

Actually, with this bouquet, I'm working on depth in my collages and am attempting to bolster different materials so that they jump out at you.  It's all about dimension, perspective and of course cutting things up so they don't look like they've been hurt or been someplace else.  Like all of our hurts inside and outside really.  My message is to make your scars into something beautiful.  It's all about giving new life to something been there.  So here's your bouquet, go get yourself a bottle of bubbly and call it a date.

Yours bearing bouquet and bubbly,
Mrs Crocodile

Tulips, a Rose, the Night Blooming Jasmine

 

Two lips arose,

the night blooming jazz men

“An enemy?”

“A golden rod?”

“A pussy will.”

Oh…In the morning glory, please forget-me-not.

This collage is made out of cut up lips from magazines. I sent it out as a Christmas card, for which I received some fascinating comments to the effect of: "Wow, I didn't know you were an artist".   To which I had to reply: "Aren't we all?"  
Anyone had any ideas for the plastic whirring carnival lips?

Yours, with lipstick on,

Mrs Crocodile