it’s getting real and dirty up in here.






I’m not sure what it is about being able to wipe my paint covered hands on my torn jeans that makes me so very content. But it does. Tearing paper with a ruler, creating a torn edge on purpose. The small smudge on the paper because I touched it with my stained fingers. The smell of paint. The sound of screens being scrubbed.

It’s messy. You will get dirty, you will go home with paint on your cheeks, and stains on your pants that will not come out. Your finger nails will get grimy and you’ll need to slather your hands in lotion.

It’s real. You cant hide the mess. You can’t fake it. There isn’t a quick key command for undoing a mistake. Every print takes the same effort. You can’t double your output by hitting print twice as much. No cloning out a mistakes. It is what it is.

I like that. I want to be real, honest about the mess in my life. I don’t want to hide my torn edges. I want to wear jeans that I can doodle with a sharpies and wipe paint on.

This is why I love studio art. My printmaking class is like throwing the windows open on the first day of spring and breathing in deeply.

What feeds your soul?


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