Fun-Sized Harry Potter

There are only three things I want to discuss today. Candy, nude dudes, and Harry Potter. You heard me right.

My mom recently mailed me a box full of Halloween candy that trick-or-treaters didn't claim. Either she's stingy, or Bay Area kids are still heading out to Blackhawk every October 31st. The postage mark informed me that she spent $7.10 on shipping the Fun Sized Kit Kats and Milky Ways that are now littering my bedroom floor. Sending me an expensive box of cheap chocolate would be my mother's idea of a care package while away at college. I love her. I don't, however, love the person responsible for coining a measly bite-sized worth of candy "fun". There's nothing fun about being left wanting more.

I recently discovered that a friend of mine has been flagging the photos of nude drawings that I post on my Facebook from my Figure Drawing class, thus ensuring their prompt removal from my page. I was slightly furious. Listen folks, if you don't like my art, please don't look at it. Plain and simple. But just as a forewarning: Artists. Have. To. Draw. Naked. People. I don't know how many times I have had to patiently explain this to Christians. "Can't you just draw models with clothes on?" one pastor asked me once. The answer, simply, is no. In order to truly understand the complexity of the sinews that bind together legs and arms and facial structures, one needs to learn, truly learn and practice, what the anatomy of the human body looks like. Naked. Suffice it to say that I personally choose to depict nudes in my art in order to celebrate God's glorious creation; I love finding beauty in a body that our world wouldn't necessarily consider "attractive". Still have qualms? Give me a buzz. I'd be happy to discuss it further... or offer a demonstration. ;)

Onto something a bit more magical: my favorite wizard with a lightning bolt scar. I am a HUGE Harry Potter freak. Huge like Hagrid-huge. One year I dressed up for one of the midnight movie openings as Moaning Myrtle, and won $20 in a costume contest. This last year I wasn't able to get tickets for the midnight showing of Half Blood Prince, but loyal fan that I am, saw the 3:10 AM showing instead. And dragged Jon's tired butt with me. We recently rewatched it together, and I was annoyed at how he acted as if it was his first time seeing the movie... Anyway, earlier this week I reread Deathly Hallows, and cried (like usual) all the way through. Towards the end, *spoiler alert* when Harry gives himself up as a sacrifice to Voldy, I couldn't help but think of Jesus. I know, I know. Please stop wincing. I don't really care to delve deeper into my Harry Potter theology here (hi, Biola friends!), but I did find it ironic, since many Christians find reading Harry Potter books to be less than prudent.

Oh, and P.S. I declared my major yesterday: Illustration Hybrid Painting & Drawing, with a minor in Sculpture. Preeeetty rad.

I'm No Edward Cullen

It's 2:23 AM, which clearly signals Time To Blog in LL's brain. It's like a little happy alarm goes off in my head, and I obey. Never mind that I have work tomorrow morning, or that my eyes are twitching with tiredness. I'm listening to The Fray's "Happiness" (guaranteed to yield excellent Genius results) and am in an excellent mood. Prepare to be benefited.

Jon recently visited me for a few days, and it was pure bliss to have him around to cook for and snuggle up with to watch Arrested Development while eating frozen grapes (pretty much our favorite past-time). We took modelesque beach pictures, double dated with our new favorite (non married) couple, celebrated Halloweenie like the forest fire and Smokey the Bear that we are, and scoffed at the disappointment that "Where the Wild Things Are" ended up to be. Obviously, we're some cool cats.

While my Taxi Driver was in town, I decided to donate blood at the blood drive going on at my school. Now, let me preface this story with a story. A year ago, I decided to pierce my rook (a delightful little unnecessary piece of cartilage in your ear that really isn't good for anything other than piercing -- see photo) and it resulted in the world's.worst.infection. Seriously. I was in the ER twice, ICU for a week, and almost lost my freakin' ear! Ever since that fun experience, I've had a crippling fear of needles + blood. Part of this completely rational fear resulted from my IV not being screwed in tight enough one time... but I won't go into that story here. Anyway, I talked it over with the ever supportive boyfriend, who strongly suggested that I sign up to donate blood to conquer these fears, and do some good for some poor cancer patient out there. Sidenote: Jon cannot give blood due to an insufficiency of iron in his blood, so I'm quite positive that he was trying to secretly live vicariously through me. Go big or go home.

When I arrived at the Red Cross trailer on Monday, a few minutes late for my appointment (this story wouldn't quite have the LL touch if it didn't involve me running late), I could only think about three things: Bon Iver's "Blood Bank" EP (quite excellent; give it a listen), the fact that my skin was stained green from my forest fire hair dye (awkward), and I was as nervous as a pimply boy asking his crush to the Prom. Except worse. Pimply boys don't (usually) have green skin.

After I answered a series of questions that determined I wasn't a prostitute or from Africa, the kind Latina woman with missing acrylic nails and Winnie the Pooh scrubs set me up with my own personal little blood bag. I laid down on my cot, shakily asked for a blanket (WHY are Red Cross trailers so cold?! Why, cruel world?), and contemplated telling her that I had changed my mind. As I set about mentally planning how I would color a little red dot on my arm so Jon wouldn't suspect anything, she pricked me (I thanked God for my lack of peripheral vision which enabled me to not see a thing), and my vein started proudly emptying it's contents into a tube. It was strange. And kind of disgusting. And... not that bad.

The whole thing was over in a flash, and I was relieved have my arm back, and to accept some Nutter Butters and orange juice. Some payment for human blood. I decided that I liked challenging my fear in order to help someone. It put me way outside of my comfort zone, and it felt good. Next on the agenda? Eating a worm to experience true hunger. Just kidding...

Zoology

I've always loved animals. As a child, I preferred caterpillars and roly polies to dolls (Okay sidenote: I just Googled "roly poly" to verify it's spelling, and Google thought I meant to type in "roly poly eat". Ew?! Let's just hope that the general population is more interested in finding out what these critters eat, not whether or not they're actually edible...). Aside from my creepy crawly obsession, I loved playing with horses and pretending my sister was my pet cat (what?). As I got older, Beanie Babies were a special favorite too, because they were animals of course. A human Beanie Baby seems kinda creepy...

I'm equally a dog lover and a cat lover. My entire life I have dreamed of purchasing both a Sphynx kitten (hairless little darlings) and a Persian kitten (tiny bundles of furry joy) on the same day so they'll be best friends. Another sidenote: No one has ever appreciated this idea but me. If you think that it's humorous, artistic, or in any way ironic, please let me know and stroke my ego. I may or may not want to rub your much appreciated support in Jon's face, who is convinced that it's an idiotic idea. He is also allergic to kitties by the way... think that's gonna stop me? Think again. A dream's a dream. Benadryl is good for you, hon.

Dogs, on the other hand, Jon and I agree on a bit more. We both adore them and are eagerly awaiting the day we bring home a German shepherd pup. As of late, I've also been thinking more and more about getting a seeing eye dog eventually. I mean, who wouldn't want a dog accompanying them to the post office?

To me, animals are God's way of creating unique and beautiful things just because. Just so we (and He!) could enjoy them. I love animals, and want my home someday full of them: tarantulas, frogs, tropical fish, parrots, snakes, horses... I can't help but laugh right now, as I mentally picture accidentally leaving the tarantula cage open and not being able to see as little Freddy crawls into my bed... Regardless of all the problems that could arise with caring for a zoo someday, I stubbornly don't want to forego it. I love animals!

And then there's Kaia. The seemingly adorable puggle that I currently live with. I thought the little bugger was cute at first, but now the unceasing whining is driving me bananas: I can't sleep, study, or video chat on my beloved Skype without incessant interruption. And I mean incessant. Mosquitos-eating-the-living-daylights-out-of-you-while-camping-and-you-forgot-to-bring-bug-spray-incessant. Someone save me. I am being held captive by the deplorable whining of this creature:

Please bring shotgun. Just kidding. Kind of.

My First Ever Drawing Tutorial

It's Midterms Week here at LCAD. Amongst my studying, LOST and Glee watching, incessant drawing (oh how my back is screaming at me right now), and landing a job (!) at the Admissions Department at my school, I decided to sneak away to give my blog a little well-deserved attention, for...

*drumroll please*

... my first ever drawing tutorial! Don't look so surprised. It was in the Blog title, you idiot.

Anyway, I felt inspired to do this after pouring over Nathan Baird's fabulous art blog earlier this week. For those of you that are not Valley Christian alumni (God bless you), Mr. Baird was my art teacher extraordinaire for the better years of high school. You'll notice, amongst the delightful gouache paintings and cartoons, that he often posts his work in sequences of completeness. Obviously I have seen this done before, but it had never occurred to me to do it myself. Until now. I will be showing you five steps of a large charcoal drawing that I finished tonight. Enjoy!

First I toned my charcoal paper down by rubbing large vine charcoal over the whole page, then smudging it with a paper towel. Then I began measuring (notice the white marks) and laying down shapes for the figure.

I then proceeded to block out the shadow areas using simple, geographic-like dark shapes. No detail yet.

I smudged the shadows in with a chamois and paper towel (no fingers allowed due to the oils). Since the paper was pre-toned before I began, I only needed to create dark and light tones as the medium was taken care of. The dark tones are easy: simply block in shadow. Light tones are a bit trickier: I had to sculpt away the charcoal with my kneaded eraser. I used a small stump to blend the lights and darks together in small, concentric circles to make the skin appear organic and soft.

Once the flesh was largely finished, I began to work on the sheet. It was easier than I expected it to be. I also touched up the face, legs, and feet with a charcoal pencil, used for extreme detail work.

Ta da! The finished result. I paid attention to reflected light (may have gone a tad overboard on the back), fixing the folds of fabric, and detail throughout the entire body.

Easy, right? I'd love some feedback from you folks. All constructive criticism welcomed! Thanks for reading!

Confessions of a Braille School Dropout

Painting is where my heart finds solace. When I set up my canvas, pick out the appropriate brushes, put on an old "Blame It On The Wookie" T-shirt (thank you Matt Rider), fiddle with Genius until I find the right tunes to match my mood, and start sliding the wet bristles across the crisp, white canvas... I finally feel at peace. I lose myself in that tranquility and utter stillness. My back screams for proper posture but I take little notice until I stand back to admire my work from afar, and then hastily glance at my calendar to determine how soon my next physical therapy appointment is. All of my worries and concerns just scamper away when I paint, like Bambi in hunting season. Hours melt by unnoticed. My angst is poured into the artwork... not necessarily even the subject matter, but on the strict concentration that is required to make that cloudy sky look like perfection. Just ask Jon: when I am in a creative thought process and am knee deep in pigment, my focus is so fiercely demanded by my work that conversation lags. I would prefer it not even be there. Painting is my worship; I live to embrace meeting God in a task that He understands only too well: creating beauty.

I have not painted once since I moved down to Laguna Beach on August 29th to pursue art school.

Come again? Show stopper, I know. Fully aware of how much this impacts your personal life... just kidding. But seriously, something doesn't match up. I find out that I have this horrible eye disease and have limited time left to create my beautiful paintings, and yet I shy away from the paintbrush. My easel stands at the ready, Daddy's pocketbook has been emptied to purchase the plethora of shiny new oil paint tubes that demand to be noticed, and Christmas is coming. Which means I'd better get my ass started on some gifts. And yet the canvases remain depressingly white.

Don't get me wrong, I have been doing a lot of art. A lot of drawing that is, and a sprinkling of liberal arts classes as well. I tell people on a regular basis that I love school and it loves kicking my butt. Here is the aforementioned self portrait, composed in Vine and Compressed Charcoal, measuring 19x24":

Earlier today, I found myself at an art boutique of sorts, the kind my mother would go gaga over. My Aunt Sue makes jewelry and she wanted me to model this truly hideous beaded belt for her booth... no, I didn't take pictures. I was happy to do so, and strolled among the booths with the jeweled belt blaring around my waist, poking around at the art and speaking with various vendors.

By the end of my jaunt, I was ready to purchase a freakin' seeing eye dog.

I'm now starting to understand where the unceasing and unflattering bruises on my legs are coming from. I lost track at how many times I walked into a person or a booth, started to knock items over, or got annoyed glances from the people around me as I strolled around looking like a head-in-the-clouds Luna Lovegood. Simply put... I am starting to understand the effects of seeing in tunnel vision. Although I am sure that this has been an ongoing problem for several years now, I never really noticed it until an optometrist sadly informed me two months ago that I have the worst peripheral vision she's ever seen in a young person. The reality of retinitis-pigmentosa is starting to set it.

I haven't painted in a month and a half because I have been terrified to confront this mounting fear. Holding the paintbrush squarely in my hand and allowing the right side of my brain to completely control my actions as I watch my artwork come alive... in other words, doing what I love to do above all else... will not always be such a luxury. I fear that the ugly truth will be staring me in the face when I sit down with my old friends, Ultramarine Blue and Alizarin Crimson (yes, I am a nerd).

I realized today that I deeply miss it. I can't avoid my passions forever. I am making it my business to paint. Today. Right now. I want to be prepared the next time I bump into a startled soccer mom at Target, instead of running away bursting into tears (yes, this has happened). I can feel that God is longing for some hang out time at the usual spot. Please excuse me while I find my favorite paintbrush and dust off the nearest canvas.

Nudity & Ghouls

My phone just bleeped with a texty poo from my Jonny informing me that he was blogging. Not sure if this was a subtle hint that he misses my oh-so-interesting blogs (yeah, right), I immediately set about writing one of my own. You might say that I have a teeny tiny streak of competitive nature flowing through my veins. Who, me? Get angry when I lose a game of Settlers of Catan? Quit a Scrabble game early if I am losing? *whistles*

Lately, a day in the life of LL has been kind of like chocolate ice cream with a bit of hot fudge on top. Not quite boring enough to be vanilla, but certainly nowhere near Dulce de Leche or Phish Food (my two personal faves). Mango gelato? Dream on, kiddo. My time has been filled with Skyping friends near and far, meticulously drawing more naked folks than I'd care to confess here, reading about how our world's coral reefs will probably be destroyed by the time our kids are born for good ole Environmental Ecology (least favorite class, whatup!), hanging out with the Kingsfield Crew (which is always marked by good times), and enjoying clam chowder at the currently rainy Laguna Beach. On the plus side, I tried Indian food for the first time and am now a fan, the parentals genuinely seem to miss me, and I've watched last week's truly stellar wedding episode of "The Office" probably at least four times now... and I unabashedly tear up every time. Now would be the moment to point out that Jon reminds me an awful lot like Jim Halpert, but that would just be bragging.

For Figure Drawing, our latest task has been self portraits. I know, I know... we thought the same thing. But my professor (pretty laidback guy that insists we call him Sergio and often forgets to assign homework) assured us that he just wants to see our naked faces, not bodies... phew. Here's last week's self portrait, composed with vine charcoal and measures 19x24", for your viewing pleasure:

Let's just say: all nighter. I'm currently slaving away on another one, due tomorrow morning. So far, this one is proving to be a little rough. You'd think it would be fun drawing your own face for hours at a time, but you should think again. By the end of this I'm pretty sure I won't want to look in the mirror for a week.

My buddy Justin and I (Sidenote: only recently have I learned that the word "buddy" is extremely uncool. Think I'm going to change my preferred lingo for all you hipsters out there? Think again.) went to Knott's Scary Farm last night, which was basically Snoopy on shrooms. Talk about sensory overload... I'm still nursing a pounding headache. Not to mention that my black ballet flats literally broke towards the end of the evening, and $10 for a Stella Artois seemed maddeningly overpriced. All in all however, I adore haunted houses, and although these were a bit cheesy, I was scared more than once. Okay, more like all night... until I wisely perceived after awhile that the ghoulies targeted the screaming girls the most. Note to self: You are a girl. Stop screaming. Here are some of my favorite photos encapsulating the evening:

This one clearly illustrates how they hid in the maze to pounce upon unsuspecting victims.

Goodnight, all. I'm off to finish the shading on my upper lip... anyone?

Fallin' in love with Fall

I adore this time of year.

To pay homage to my Golden State heritage, and it's world-wide fame for boasting warm weather no matter what the calendar indicates, I had always declared summer to be my favorite season. I promised myself every year that this would be the year I became a beach bum, camping out on the sand, becoming BFFs with UV rays, in order to score a sun-kissed glow (confession: any sort of glow I sustained was usually procured in a very fake way...). I had screen names like CaliBeachGurlxo, went to the County Fair each year, walked around at vintage car shows pretending to know all about '69 Camaros (hey, this did impress the boys), wore flowy sundresses,

and aspired to live my life like a Taylor Swift song.

Now that October is almost here, this year I find myself cheating on summer with fall, and ooo I feel good! Na na na na na na... I knew that I would, now...

Here is a hopefully short list of everything that I love about fall:

1. Trees changing colors. Duh.

2. Pumpkin spice lattes.

3. Indian summer. It just sounds so romantic.

4. Fall fashion is, in my humble opinion, the best fashion all year round.

5. Halloween -- an ideal excuse to pig out on candy, obvy. And let's not forget the parties, costumes, and decor.

6. Mini pumpkins.

7. Taking pictures at a pumpkin patch.

8. Starting school... really.

9. Pumpkin carving. It smells truly awful but makes a great staycation date.

10. Black Friday. Um, hello Christmas shopping (with a few snagged prizes for myself)!

11. Leggings paired with huge sweatshirts and Uggs.

12. Candy corn. I am one of those that like it, sue me.

13. Sunflowers.

14. NFL.

15. New TV!

16. Literally perfect weather: warm with cool breezes. Love it.

17. LOVE haunted houses.

18. Candy apples.

19. Horseback riding. This just seems like a fallish activity.

20. Scarves.

21. Leaves crunching underfoot and dancing through streets like fairies (gotta sound artistic here).

22. Pumpkin pie.

23. Bonfires.

24. Fall weddings. Love, love, love the apple greens paired with chocolate browns; the rich, golden ambience that fall weddings can afford. Sign me up!

25. My sister Cassandra turns 21 this November, which can only mean one thing: family wine tasting!

I'll close with a few photos of favorite autumnal memories. Happy fall!

This was my last Halloween at 2126. I yelled, "Let's all get in character!" about two seconds before the photo was snapped and this is what happened.

Carving with friendsies a few years back. And yes, I did have freakishly blonde hair.

Here's the almost-legal sister at Thanksgiving in Minnesota a year or two back.

And finally, an oldie but a goodie. Pretty self explanatory.