Rabidly Whimsical Tenacity
Jul. 16th, 2009
10:41 am - Several of you have asked this...
...so I figured I'd point folks to one post. If you wanna help promote the project, here's the blurb:
"Lightsurfing: Living Life in the Front of My Mouth" is an anecdotal, illustrated, autobiographical journey of what it takes to carve your own path in the world, make a living at it, and all the wild, weird, and whack things that happen as a result.
"Lightsurfing" is 186, full-color, 7x10" pages full of paintings & the nascent sketches that inspired them. There are skinned deer and burned out buildings. There are some felonies, but the statute of limitations has run out, so the guilty are safe. There's sex & some kinky stuff, and hefty chunks of wisdom that Marrus hopes will inspire her tribe and mebbe stop some of the younger ones from making the dumb, fear-based mistakes she made.
It's should be one helluva read:)
If you send them to my site, http://www.marrusart.com, they'll be able to order from there, and the image link to the cover is http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q
Yes, there is a difference between the price of the book & the Paypal price. Packaging, S&H, Paypal fees, etc, racks up. If you buy in person, the price is less, same as buying art in person. If you wanna get multiple copies (!), email me & I'll figure it out. Kialli, I'll figure out the difference and slide some cash in yours when I ship it.
I apologize for the clunkiness, but I'm operating solo. When Uncle Sam gives me back my blond, this should all get more streamlined. In the meantime, for all you first-wavers, of course I'll sign books - it's a given. If there something specific you want it to say, lemme know;)
Thank you so much for helping me get this out!
Jul. 15th, 2009
10:27 pm - So's you know...
I'm Miz Marrus on FaceBook, and I'll friend ya if ya find me:)
Anybody know how I become a Wiki entry? I'm already found my name from the work I did at Valiant Comics, but it'd be cool to have an actual page...
Jul. 14th, 2009
11:14 am - “Lightsurfing” is finally going to press!
...and I should have warm, buttery, fresh-baked books by mid-August, meaning I can take pre-orders! The book is beautiful - it's 186 full-color pages of art, anecdotes & kinky stories.
With tax & domestic S&H, the price is $35.95. You can either Paypal me directly at marrusart AT yahoo, or go through my website. For those of you overseas, please email me privately so’s I can figure out how much shipping’ll be.
If I prove that I can sell at least two thousand of these guys, I have a shot at a big distributor taking over fulfillment, so as much as I’d love to just give away copies, please don’t ask! I'm also gonna try to have an opening party in late-ish August here in New Orleans, but I haven't put that part together yet.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me – I so hope you guys love it!
(And now, I’m gonna go chew my nails off, purge everything I’ve eaten in the last month, pace holes through the floor, and freak right the hell out.)
Jul. 13th, 2009
09:32 am - I can begin to see what the finish line looks like...
If you like the play-by-plays, feel free to throw something in the tip jar. Enjoy, and thank you!
Jul. 11th, 2009
09:31 pm - Jay's Drill Instructor didn't let him see...
the letter...but Jay DID hear him laugh. Out LOUD. My infiltration of the US Army has begun:)
The pralines are being held in escrow til their next PT test, and then we'll see if he gets to eat one!
Jul. 8th, 2009
07:00 am - Another step from inside my brain to a piece that hopefully won’t suck...
It can be very hard to see the values (ie, the grayscale) when a painting is full of texture, color, and angst. If I’m getting tripped up, I’ll take a digital shot, drop out the colors in Photoshop, print it, and doodle on top. It’s a commitment-free way to experiment without messing up the painting itself.
So, here, you can see where the guy’s legs were wrong & I’ve moved his foot, and I’ve got some better ideas of how to make him more of a sky god. When I sketch, I use words as much as drawing. For example, I’ll write something like “rose to navy”, with an arrow in the right direction of the blend. I can see it all in my head, the bitch of it is getting it out of my hands.
Still banging on this. It’s coming, though.
If you enjoy the play-by-plays, please toss something in the tip jar. Or, bounce to my site. Maybe you need a present for somebody?
Jul. 7th, 2009
01:01 pm - At Jay's behest, I'm sending pralines to Boot Camp...
...with the accompanying letter:
Dear Drill Instructors,
PFC Watt has informed me that sending food is allowable, provided that one can eat it within 30 seconds, and one is not a fatty.
As he couldn’t be a fatty even if he tried, I trust that these New Orleans pralines (pronounced “prah-leenz”) will be an easy treat for him to consume within the recommended timeframe.
He also requested that I send enough for all the members of his unit. If my friend at the candy store did as I asked, there should be one mini-praline for everyone, plus three regular sized ones in the smaller box for you Instructors.
Enjoy the candy, and thank you for your hard work. I expect my man to come home to me with the eight-pack of abs I fell in love with, and not the pathetic six-pack I sent to you.
--Marrus
Jul. 2nd, 2009
09:44 pm - Still banging away at this damned painting...
...everything I work on SUCKS, until that magical moment when it almost doesn't. I don't hate this enough to stop working on it - I can see where it COULD go, but oh, it's hard, hard...
That's the difference, I think, between being an artist, or a writer, or a runner, or a where-ever-your-dreams-take-you-er. DOING IT when you ABSOLUTELY would rather be doing ANYTHING else. The hardest part of the job is showing up. But if I just force myself to sit down at my easel, pick up my brush, scrutinize my work, focus on one little thing that I could make suck less if only I do this to it, and keep going, then eventually, I've finished another painting, and I don't need to draw it over and over again.
Nothing happens if I don't take that first step - I must remind myself of that religiously. What keeps me almost-pure is that I don't call myself an artist if I haven't created anything in six months. The physical therapist sez I should be more gentle on myself. So does Jay. I'm really bad at that.
BTW, I'm not asking for critiques of these. Believe me, I know what's wrong, and where things need to go. I'm sharing the process, not asking to be directed.
Again, if you enjoy these, please toss something in the tip jar. Or, bounce to my site and pin a bit of me to your very own wall!
11:43 am - The latest thing percolating in my studio...
...is tentatively called, "The Marriage of Heaven & Earth". It's been bouncing around for awhile, so I finally got off my ass & started painting it. These damned things beat at me for months, sometimes YEARS until I paint them out. An idea knows it's got a better chance at becoming a painting when it makes me sketch it over & over & over again. Here's one of the many rough sketches that wouldn't leave me alone:
And, if you like these forays into my process, I'd love it if you threw something in the tip jar. July in New Orleans is a slow, slow time, and the 3 week show I'd normally be doing in Connecticut went away:(
Or, you could always pop over to my site and buy some art...!
Jul. 1st, 2009
08:51 am - What an amazing library we'd all make!
Thank you to everybody for chiming in, though some of you didn't QUITE stick to the rules. Just giving me a list of titles doesn't help me - I want to know WHY you're passionate about them.
If you enjoyed bouncing around the comments section & wanna grab the list for yourself, it's here, and I stuck it in my "memories" section, too:)
Thanks again! I'm not gonna have the "what the hell should I read" problem for about, oh, a good 10 years :)
And, coming soon, a sketch for the next painting percolating in my studio!
Jun. 29th, 2009
11:53 pm - I've never been good at picking out books...
...so I was thinking that it'd rock to hear what everybody's favorite book is, and why. This could be the start of an awesome list, cuz as I said, I'm not good at picking them out, and I hate dropping myself in someone else's head only to come up a few days later thinking, "Well, that sucked." (This may mean you, Dan, but you're not alone.)
As for my contribution, I loved Katherine Dunn's Geek Love, cuz the relationships of the characters, despite the majority of their conceptions being drug-fueled experiments by their freak-show-owning parents, were beautifully, believably drawn, and their poignant humanity was drawn in all the sharper relief against the manipulation of their bodies. And I like circus-y things. Ahem. I do go on.
I loved Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses. She a poetic scientist, a drillingly deep lover of all things that come to us through the physical world and affect who we are spiritually. She made me aware that everything that touches me, every sight, sense, taste & sound, affects who I am & my relationship to the universe. And it was in this book that she referenced my next favorite:
Patrick Suskind's Perfume long before there was a movie about it. It's so powerfully sensual - I love books that make me think about commonplace things in extraordinary ways. And I love brilliant sociopaths. Mmmm...Hannibal Lecter.
And, well, when I finished Stephen King's The Talisman, I wanted to glue the front cover to the back cover & just keep reading the book in circles so I never had to leave the story. He blew my brain open to the probability of multiple dimensions & how choice & intent move us through the world.
So, there's my list. I know I gave four & I'm asking for one each, but hey, it's my journal. If you absolutely can't pick just one, I s'pose I'll suffer;)
Thanks for your thoughts!
Jun. 28th, 2009
05:45 pm - How teh intrawebz haz changed things...
...for one, how many different people I’ve become, depending in which forum someone meets me.
On MySpace, I’m distant. I show up briefly to the party, glance about, note the tumbleweeds, maybe say something pithy, more often not, and leave. I’m not very friendly.
On FaceBook, I’m a sound-byte. I slice-of-life-post. I promote, briefly. I hunt down cherished people who I wish I’d never lost track of. I remind myself of that face I see once a year in a far away town with whom I might be REAL friends - if only we lived on the same coast. It’s friendship as short attention-span theatre. It makes me sad, but the tool is useful.
On LinkedIn, I was independent. Confident. But it was the wrong venue for what I do (it’s a business networking site), and packed up. Too many people asked me for “recommendations” when I’d met them once, or painted their ankle 15 years ago. That does not a “working relationship” make. I shut it down.
On LJ, I’m as true to myself as I know how to be. I hold forth. I query. I poke. I ponder. I hope to inspire, teach, catalyze, entertain. I post art. I share fears. And I shove the whole shebang at FaceBook, in the off-chance that someone might care to drop beneath the surface.
Four different personalities. Four ways for people to relate to one flesh-and-blood woman. None of them really me.
As much as I try to be transparent, as fully one person as I know how to be, I realize there’s a whole different girl at a renaissance faire. A BDSM show. A swinger’s event. Making groceries. A bar in New Orleans, as opposed to a bar in Manhattan. Alone in my studio.
Heraclitus said, “You can never step in the same river twice.” Everything changes around us, constantly. How much of who we think we are is us, how much is fluid, impressed by our surroundings, our friends, our desires?
Perhaps this fractalizing of web personae IS truth.
Jun. 27th, 2009
08:57 am - If all the people sobbing over Michael Jackson...
...paid as intense care & concern to their own offspring, this world would be a happier place.
I mean, people, come ON. You didn't know him. He didn't love you. You're not in the will. Five years ago, most of you were maligning him as a pedophile. He never had a childhood, he was very talented, he had some flavor of body dysmorphic syndrome, and he was deeply broken. And now he's dead. Please move on.
Better yet, focus on this instead:
Jun. 25th, 2009
11:33 am - Okay, the time has come to think about book release parties...
I should be getting a printing schedule next week-ish, and then pre-orders can finally, at long last happen! But until I can prove to the big boys that people will love it, and talk about it, and even *gasp* BUY it, I’m the main thrust behind getting this book out.
And that means I’m gonna need some help. For starters, I’d love to have some kind of opening party here in New Orleans. And then the books will come with me to DragonCon. And then up the coast to the Connecticut Faire, stopping along the way. I just got off the phone with the marketing people who tell me that if I can sell 500-ish under my own steam, we can take that number to a big distribution house where I just might become a Real Live Girl.
But that time is not yet.
So, I’m asking for suggestions of venues. When I drive to CTRF there’ll be several stopping points – Atlanta around September 18th, up to New Jersey-ish after that, and Vermont after that. I must be AT the Faire by the 25th.
During week days, I could do bookstores & bars & underpasses all over the northeast.
Anybody able to help with any of this? It’s all about to become real, and oh, how I wish my blond was able to help me, but he’s off playing GI Jay.
Also, I shouldn’t have to say it, but several people have already made this assumption, so I guess I DO have to say it:
As much as I’d like to give everybody who’s ever bought a piece of my work (or said they like my stuff, or had a drink with me, or stayed at my house, or in whose home I’ve stayed, or played with me on the road, or gone dancing with me, or, or...) a copy of the book for free, I CAN’T DO IT.
In order to get a big distributor to take on this project, I have to prove that it sells. Receipts & real names & everything. So, if you love my paintings, if you wish you could see the doodles & thought processes that lead up to them, you’ve been entertained by my shenanigans, if you think I could help someone not make the dumb mistakes I did, please buy the book. There’s been a huge investment of time & money by lots of people other than me in this project. We all need to eat!
Thanks for your thoughts. I feel like I’ve been grotesquely pregnant for the last three years, and I can’t wait for the next phase of the journey to begin!
Jun. 23rd, 2009
08:40 pm - My fave shot of Mardi Me...
...taken by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
nisaa in 2008. This was on the balcony of Mimi's, about 8am on Fat Tuesday. I'd already been abducted into a stranger's house & plied with two bloody marys. And quiche. The special brownies would happen later. Urp.
Jun. 19th, 2009
09:36 am - This is not a dress rehearsal...
Out with a friend last night to see a band. We were having a grand time, dancing our fool heads off and laughing. He’s a much better dancer than I am, and I had a hard time keeping up. (That little up-on-your-toes-glide thing in the waltz eludes me, but it didn’t stop me from trying.)
He sported his trademark waxed, curly que ‘stache, I was in some combo of sparkly-fringy-pig-tailed-cowboy-booted fabulousness. (Well, to me, anyway, and I’m the only one who counts.)
But no one else in the room moved. Here was this 7 piece band, swinging away, a clarinet, bongos, a sousaphone, a banjo, a cute chick belting out campy 40s songs, and everyone sat there, polite smiles on their faces, proof that all this marvelous sound was going into their ears evinced only in tiny toe-tappings.
A man confided quietly, pointing at my frolicking friend, “Wow, I wish I could be that free.”
He broke my heart, right then. Cuz the only thing stopping him, was him.
There’s this huge looming specter over so many people I’ve met. It’s name is What-Other-People-Think.
“Oh, I love it, but I could never wear that hat.”
“I wish I could say that to him.”
“I’d look stupid.”
“Well, YOU can pull it off, but I couldn’t."
Here’s the dark secret: Other people don’t care. They’re too wrapped up in themselves, their own worries, potentially looking foolish. And if they DO say something, why should YOU give a damn? It’s so much easier to be a critic than a creator. There are six billion people on the planet, and they’re breeding at an outlandish pace – go talk to one of them.
This is YOUR life. In the off chance there’s no reincarnation, live NOW. What the hell are you waiting for? If you always wanted to learn Italian – TAKE A CLASS. If you love those shoes because they make you feel like Marilyn Monroe, WEAR THEM. If you think of something nice to say to that stranger just because, SAY IT.
Really, what’s the worst that will happen? You’ll fall off a cliff? You’ll break out in hives? You’ll die of shame? Some person you’ve never met & don’t care about won’t like you anymore?
How many more years will you sit there, wishing you’d gotten up & danced?
Jun. 10th, 2009
08:54 am - Your call is very important to us...
I'm in a holding pattern. Waiting for the last little tweaks on the book to be done. Waiting for it to go to press. Waiting to hold it in my hands. Waiting to see if all the people who said, "Please write a book" actually buy it.
Waiting for Jay to be done, to see what he becomes when this is all over. Wondering if the bug has bitten him more deeply than he suspected & our lives change even more drastically as a result.
Waiting for my skills to improve, for the a-ha moment that allows me to get this damned painting to the next level. For the record, once again, I HATE painting. Love the ideas, love the finished pieces, hate everything in the middle. I can't explain the hell I force myself through almost everytime I pick up a paintbrush.
Waiting for my body to change, for the outside to finally approximate the inside. I've changed my diet drastically, and I'm down about 20 pounds, but the herniated-disk-episode threw me off.
Waiting to feel my foot again, wondering if I'll ever have strength & sensation in it again.
I'm working to move all these things along - well, at least the ones over which I've a semblance of control. I'm working out, watching my diet, doing the physical therapy, sketching out the tricky bits with reference, but I don't see anything happening NOW, and I'm an inbox / outbox kind of girl.
Waiting makes me apeshit.
Jun. 8th, 2009
07:27 am - Garden, and six sentences.
The cardboard palm has sent out another dozen fronds.
The Pride of Barbados tree has figured out who it is.
The mice have chewed through the vermin-proof cat food container.
My leg hurts, just when I'm contemplating canceling the surgery.
This is not a big house, but I feel like I'm knocking against the walls.
I'm very aware that he's gone.
Jun. 2nd, 2009
10:27 am - So, my absurd errand of the day...
...was driving around the Treme, looking for my lost right antler, much to the amusement of the residents.
Jay gifted me with these for my birthday, after being deafened by my delighted squeals when I saw them gracing a camouflaged dooly:
They looked quite fabulous on the sides of my orange car, and strangers would smile & thumbs-up me everywhere. I like surprising people with happiness.
Then, last night on my way to da Quarter, I got too close to a low-hanging branch, heard a scraping sound, and when I got home, discovered my right antler was missing!!
I'm thinking about craigslisting my hopes to find a replacement. I don't wanna just be a four point buck:(
Jun. 1st, 2009
08:18 am - Sometimes, just pressing on is enough.
(Woke up strange, head swirling with wine, stomach distended & bilious, I reached out in the dark, and you weren’t there.
Rolled over, turned on the light, and no one winced, cuz you weren’t there.
Got up, went to the fridge, swigged right outta the juice bottle, and nobody cared, cuz you weren’t there.
Stretched out wrongways, my head on my side, my feet on yours, body in the middle, cuz you weren’t there.
Four am, and you’ll never know that I can’t sleep, cuz you weren’t there)
Sometimes, just pressing on is enough. Not doing the flashy thing, or the valiant thing, not going to war or winning the prize.
Just waking up.
Not planting the trees or saving the children, not campaigning for causes nor rebuilding houses, not being the voice of the people or going green.
Just getting out of bed.
Sometimes just championing ourselves is enough. It’s alright to be our own cause. Sometimes, the quiet thing IS the hard thing. Sometimes, the mountain we have to climb is the molehill in our hearts.
Not every challenge brays lusty ego to the world. Sometimes the hardest battles are fought by the lonely soldier in our souls.
Sometimes, pressing on is enough.
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