if i lactate i would give you some.-gemma

•April 29, 2010 • 3 Comments

this is the teaser for a video i worked on that is going to be premiered this friday at the house of yes in brooklyn!

so basically, i made some of the clothing back in november and gemma took them and kaytee papusza of papusza couture used her clothing and mine and kate verb modeled….

it was based on twins.

so the show on friday is a fashion show and i am going to be performing as a siamese twin with kate, as her tiny twin, on a tea set table with contortionists, acrobatics, and amazing dancers…..exhibiting papusza couture’s birds under the ocean collection! which is based on kaytee papusza’s venture to iceland (she exhibited in iceland’s fashion week last fall) and the beautiful landscape she fell in love with.

the music playing is a concoction of sounds—-all icelandic artists!

my first big performance-come come see!

house of yes

doors open at 8

april 30th

342 maujer street, brooklyn ny

But I’ll be up all night until I know you’re alright. You set this town on fire, you melted the ice.

•April 12, 2010 • 10 Comments

I have always been obsessed with conjoined twins both aesthetically and psychologically. This is a photograph I took of myself a few days ago imitating one of my favorite concepts.

It has been nearly a year since I updated this blog.

Perhaps it was simply that I was facing most of my demons by turning them into something beautiful on paper. When I stopped updating this blog I was knee deep in charcoal and imagery.

To this day it has always been easier for me to speak with images than with words.

Where have I been?

Or rather, where should I begin?

In the past year I have-

Had a near death experience, which was very severe and the love of the one who caught me mid seizure helped me escape that strange abyss of stars and subconcious.

Become obsessed with out of body experiences, conjoined twins, cycles of life and death, gypsies, dreams, and healing from the inside out.

Become a blonde (my hair color naturally is a weird dark blonde/light brown so going really blonde didn’t look that odd as you can see in the photograph above).

Become much more angular physically, more bones than girl; but  at the same time I’ve become much softer and more understanding internally. Strange how our hearts can either turn cold or grow warm with time (luckily mine became warmer).

Turned 23 on april 8th.

Have had the greatest pleasure in making friends with people who are truly talented and supportive. I have learned a lot from them.

Participated in a group show in Tokyo *two paintings were exhibited*

Gone to school, studied science (anatomy and the female reproductive system, as well as the process of the formation of the fetus in utero in particluar), and then left.

My mother, who I have written about a lot, was in a car accident this summer-in her already frail state she slipped into a coma, woke up, had a tracheostomy which limited her communication further, cannot move, in the hospital.

And despite all of that, she’s still the most beautiful person I know.

I learned a lot about what love really is, about pain, and about my own heart and its fragile tendencies.

I went to los angeles, portland, seattle, and new york.

I am in new york.

I make most of my living off of my illustration and tattoo design work.

But I could not do that without the help of those I love.

I will have to start posting on here as much as I can again.

For now I will leave you with something I wrote awhile back, seriously months ago….and I have the answers to the questions that I ask here now…and understand that love goes far deeper than the left ventricle, and that by facing my darkest fears I am no longer afraid. Love forces you to face yourself and grow.
This was written during a time when I was questioning linguistics and the power of words-and how easily words can be twisted and misunderstood.
You see what you want to see.
Which causes one to question, what is truth then? What is really there? Do we see the same thing?

I am very happy to be alive even in these difficult times.

They say parents with baby girls have bad karma….

Over and over I pick at a wound that never seems to heal. It reminds me of my mother’s bedsores, always fresh and carrying within the smallest vessel the threat of death, a constant reminder that life is never really fair.

I don’t even know what to think anymore. I read once that the left mind is adept at language but unable to determine a situation by sight, while the right mind can capture everything in a visual space but be unable to put it into words…carrying mysteries and a dialogue between the two sides that doesn’t always work. Apparently when there is damage to the left side of the brain females are more likely to recover and regain the ability for language more often than males.

The concept of communication is tricky. I’ve lived in countries where I had a limited ability to verbally communicate, but communicated more honestly visually. Straight and to the point.

I did my best modeling jobs for companies that did not speak any english, save for “move to the right. look at the camera” it was all gestural posing, all hands and eyebrows.

Language is strange, it unfolds in a way where things can get lost between the periods and spaces. One can pick apart and dissect a conversation and never really understand what was said.

The concept of lying is something I will never fully understand. One often lies when they are afraid, or trying to protect something. But then there are lies that are deliberate, cruel, and out of spite. I had never really experienced the latter, although the former was always familiar in some sense.

In the past year the shell of belief that I held cracked. I found that suddenly the foundation I had built for myself was false, a complete delusion. I realized what true loneliness was, in a sense betrayal left me alone more than death could. Perhaps it was a death in its own right, a death of the life I thought I was living.

It’s funny how selfish people are, how impossible it is for them to comprehend the effects their actions have on others. For some, the only person who matters is themselves. I wonder if that is the loneliest place to be? Or are they fullfilled in this manner?

A large part of me was cracked open this past year and taken apart. I felt like one of the bodies in the anatomy classes of Versalius, open in the middle of a stadium for all to see. Perhaps it was like that, perhaps I was just some study for the ones who performed the procedure. Here was my heart, watch how thin the layers of the right atrium are when punctured. The human heart thrives on an all-or-nothing law and, if stopped, the entire body will shut down within a matter of minutes.

And then you wonder why I had such difficulty in maintaining function once you had pulled on the aorta and eaten away at the left ventricle? Once my chest had been cracked open for the simple concept of study?

Humans are complex and yet so simple in their departure.

I have spent a long time trying to pull my heart out of the jaws of a coyote ever since that initial dissection.

You you you-could mean so many things;

Death, destruction, lies, cruelty, the blackest parts of winter….

or love.

oh and through my dark dark winters I finally understood the concept of color.

My work, which was mostly charcoal before (which I also loved for its own sense of luminescence.) is now drenched in soft, colorful tones….like light through a prism.I have a lot more.

Some links to check out-

for my stuff (more art, etc)





for some people I admire (just a few for now, I will post more later.)







I will post more soon, no more hiatus.



I know what happened to your sister, it had something to do with rabbits, didn’t it?

•May 22, 2009 • 16 Comments

can you spot the swan? self portrait.

My mother and my sister.

I love her, and I hate that I break her heart again and again.

Elijiana with her bird…

Dead easter bird…

Times are darker and darker for me, but I find that somehow there is light.

I am loved, even if I have no foundation.

I started a tumblr account for all of my random quick pieces of expression—

more art here-



I want to hold your hand…

•May 6, 2009 • 5 Comments

It hit me somewhere along the line that I needed to go back to the forests of my childhood and face death, look her straight in the eye and tell her I wasn’t afraid-this was only a chance for metamorphosis. I was not going to let myself become a sheep in a herd out of fear for safety. I realized life is not safe, no matter how many systems you play into or who you pretend to be. If you’re honest you’re invincible. If you’re honest with yourself you cannot be afraid.

I’m no longer afraid of the things that used to plague me. I’ve realized that while many people are asleep, I’ve become very much awake.

I may be losing my mother, and I may know death on an intimate level, but I know that life is painful for a reason-like a drawing the markings force your identity to the surface.

I know that in our culture we are not supposed to talk about loss. The worst thing in our society to call someone is a loser. The issue herein lies that no one is ever good enough, the stakes are always raised, and perhaps we do this to keep ourselves from stopping and reflecting on what it truly means to be human.

In the animal world life and death are always connected, the fact that there is pain and the need for survival are not ignored. Sea turtles lay their eggs on the beach only to have birds eat the fertilized yoke the next day, so many dreams and possibilities in those small embryos lost.

Perhaps that is what life as a human is too. Our dreams are like those sea turtle eggs, with only a few surviving to hatch. So much love goes into them to have them disappear.

Loss can be destructive on the human soul but only because we ignore it for so long. We deny ourselves our sadness.

I realized this year that if there was no dark than there could not be any light. If I didn’t lose, I could never reach for something more.

little dear

•April 30, 2009 • 4 Comments


based on this drawing that i did

“She is the girl with pearls in her mouth. Swallowed whole so she can pay her fee to death in luxury. She has swans in her heart and a deer for her soul. Her face resembles a clever tabby cat.”-jess wrote that about me

Swan Song

•April 13, 2009 • 13 Comments


So upon turning older I finally decided to get one of my swan drawings tattooed on my body.

Tattoos hold a lot of symbolism for me. My first tattoo was a stanza from Rimbaud’s Une Saison En Enfer on my back-



Le loup criait sous les feuilles
En crachant les belles plumes
De son repas de volailles:
Comme lui je me consume.

-Arthur Rimbaud


My second was a heart that I drew…

Which was inspired by this qoute-

What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show. Jaques felt himself growing gloomy again. He was well aware that to live on earth a man must follow its fashions, and hearts were no longer worn. -Jean Cocteau



So why swans this time?


I started drawing and painting them constantly since my trip to Scotland in November…


I was visiting this girl. I found myself entranced by the swans we found whilst walking one afternoon. The power of their wings, how serene they could look one minute, and then how violent they could be the next. I felt like life was like that, taking flight-change is like that. Escaping a situation, overcoming an obstacle, it is never a neat and tidy thing.

I wanted to document an animal for which I found a catalyst.



(for more of my swan series go here-http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikamae)

So I started drawing and painting swans constantly. This drawing stayed with me though, like the heart I drew I knew I needed to get it on my skin….

It was probably the most painful tattoo I’ve ever gotten…but I love it all the more for that reason, I wanted to document change, or perhaps document my decision to try to make the changes in my life positive after a year of negativity.


(It’s in the healing process in these pictures and no photoshop was used, so bare with the texture and uhh under eye circles).

I’ve realized you have to work for some changes.

So this year I’m going to try to do my best as I take flight…

One thing that I find so interesting about swans is the legend and folklore that come with them. The fable of the ugly duckling, the irish tale where the stepmother turned all of her stepchildren into swans, the hindu mythology, the norse legends involving purity….

Swans seem to represent many things, but mostly one thing-



Swan Song is the  belief that upon death the otherwise silent Mute Swan would sing beautifully.

You idiot kid, you don’t have a clue….

•April 8, 2009 • 19 Comments

(my dala horses-http://www.flickr.com/sheclimbeddownthetree)


The clock has turned and I’m a year older. I look down at my hands, the veins that connect the dots and I am twenty-two with my dreams on paper.

I wish I could say it was easy, but life never is. I am so close to the finish line and then what? What does graduation entail? I look back at the last three years of travel and struggle, dissecting creatures with a scalpel or simply splitting heads with my tongue. I wish I could say it was easy, but it is not.

Despite the emotional scarification I like some of who I’ve become. Sometimes I want to turn back that clock, run into some memory and stay for awhile but reality is where my heart beats and I can’t get out of the present.

What about the future?

Death seems to haunt at every corner, and I’m tired of losing. What do I say to my audience? You wonder why I grow smaller with sad eyes, why I’m silent? I’m watching the person that made me wake up with blood in her mouth and you ask me how I am?

Times are troublesome and I wish that I could say that I’m turning a new age without being in a rough spot, but we all know the truth.

Perhaps the truth is something one can understand better than another façade.

I am falling apart and trying to put the pieces together again. I write my dreams on walls in hopes that I will keep moving forward. I have to, there is no turning back.

I have many who love me but this is a fight I have to learn to win on my own.

I know, deep in my heart, that nothing is truly unbearable.


I am strong.


On a side note, the editor of deerwomen (http://www.deerwomen.com) informed me that my birthday is also Buddha’s birthday in Japan.



On a lighter note here I am with a ferret at the age of 18, which was a very different time in my life.