Angels have no thought of returing

Evening lovelies. I've got a story to recite.

I slowly come to realize the increasing impossibility of containing perplexities and making sense of senseless within. I'm all too self aware sometimes and its becoming detrimental to my sanity and overall health. My cognitivity is now only a fools tactic to avoid the unavoidable. Meaning that despite my ability to know the subtleties of my character and the things they do to people; the moment people doing something blatantly obvious and direct to me, I crumble within. I know... I'm confusing. Well let me explain this in a way that's not so Bob Dylan.

Okay. The only way to explain my deteriorating esteem is to explain how the last straw broke the camels back this week. So. Last Saturday, I went to Marymount University, a school I've been accepted to. I wanted to see the school I'd be in, if i choose to go there. After the open house event, I was left with a lot of concerns regarding my possible admission to this school. I'm going to be honest, I have my reservations. I just don't think a suburban atmosphere is one for me. I love the city. All I've ever wanted to be is a face in the crowd and to commit to individuality on my own terms. I don't know, that conviction of mine is an ambiguous one to say the least. I want to be invisible but only when I want to. I want to be a faceless person among a crowd but not a number at a school. I want to be alone, but my fucking codependency won't ever let me. Cosas de la cual se tienen que pensar.

Anyway college is a mindfuck right now. Its not some silly decision you can retract the moment you realize the freshmen fifteen is not a myth or that you got "accidentally" date raped while dancing to Daddy Yankee. There are bigger things to think about. These schools; they love to convince you through the mundane. I just can't react to that anymore. I am past the frivolity. I want to see how high I can fly. The point is I've been a wreck since. But it's not like I've never been a stressful wreck before.Its like that constant in my life. You know; the way anorexics are hungry all the time, so much so that they forget they are. Its just that feeling they've come to accept as a normality... well that's stress for me. And thus this will forever be the only comparison between me and a anorexic... you see I am text book OPPOSITE of a thinspo person.

The stress derived by my worries about college were only to be included on my growing lists of "stresses." I started the week at school fine. I mean as fine as school can be. Art. What interesting IB course that is. First of all, by no dimension of the world should the art course I'm currently enrolled in be labeled an IB class. You can perhaps call it a study hall, if you want to give that much credit. But that's just silly complaint of mine. What really bugs be is that when you have a friend and have a established that silly thing "Trust" you almost feel compelled to speak to these so called friends as though they were really "friends." Well that was the point I was at Monday morning. Don't feel like making it specifically relevant by explaining in detail how it related to me but nonetheless this fiasco became check 2 on my list of "Stresses."

School kept going. I realized on Tuesday I was loosing my best friend. And I remain distant from them not wanting to express my disagreement with her choice to depart from one  another. At that point i just felt alone. I hate that feeling, loneliness. Its pointless and yet so effective.  Check 3 on that list. 

Tuesday night gave birth to check 4,5,6 on that list. That evening I saw a movie "Gardens of the Night" and it took me forever to watch it because it was so unsettling and sad and also I was a blogging a review for it. Anyway I was really upset after it, unusually enough. I got sick like right after the film. And my doctor has since told me that when ever I;m under any distress I can get sick like this. But i find it so unusual because I'm always stressed so why should it happen at specific moments for which I don't realize I'm really under any separate stress. My room was a mess and I went to sleep depressed. Like for-real depressed. I was so unusually upset and i had no reason to satisfy my confusion. I went to sleep.

woke up. Same shit. Depressed. I went to art. Now. I have these classmates I sit with. They're these girls who, for all intensive purposes, are really truly good people. We are not compatible as friends. They think I'm judgmental and I think they are childish. Middle school and boys is just beyond my realm of interest and I'm just so sorry I'll never get to melt into their compelling discussion. It'll always be that void in my heart. 

Anyway. False hugs were delivered as I entered the art room. Even worse they say I love you..."Love" is such an awfully overrated word. Love has within its very veins one of the most intense connotations existent. So for these silly girls to throw it at me is unnecessary. You know those components aren't really my problem with our relationship. The thing is, is that I’ve always thought that friends were supposed to be there for each other. So when I ask them for help weeks in advance for something I know they can help me with and they say yes; I come to expect that they will help me. I was a fool to think so. Because in the end they pretended not to have ever heard me and I'm left alone. It's good though now I know they're not those kind of friends and I've learned to stick to myself .

Anyway the tension was thick in the air. And I was working hard at matting my artwork. I had a piece of work I recently made, of a nude woman, on the table on which the girls were working on. I saw that one of the girls was working on her piece that she had started along time ago. There is a striking similarity between my piece and hers in that both pieces depict a nude woman from the perspective of her back side and that the hands melt into the thighs. She began to erase the head of her depicted subject. Now, in an attempt to make the obvious funny I said, "Now they'll really look the same." The girls look at each other as if they work as one person and giggle and they say in broken synchronization, "she made it first, I made it first" each saying it respectively. I knew exactly what they were saying. So I said, "you can't be serious, do you think I copied your work?" and as if time has stopped if only for a split second (melodrama is amazing) she said, "maybe."

What a lovely dialogue we had participated in. Last thing i said was "this is outrageous." I mean it really was, she accused me of coping her working. I mean not only did she question my integrity but she also questioned the authenticity of my work. And all with one word, "maybe." How brilliant. I mean if the time comes when i have to defend myself to someone who matters, I will explain that my exact moment of inspiration for the visual depiction of the piece was when Kirsten Dunst was nude in the film Marie Antoinette. But never should I have to prove that to her. I let my art teacher know, i don't want it in my art show. And that was that. Two friends down the drain along with a piece of work. And I felt shitty. And I took it that way because she knows how serious i take my art. Whatever the simple fact is, friends are only friends for as long as you kiss there ass after that you realize that trust is pretend and that there truly is beauty in the breakdown. 

The situation with the art got messy. But I let it go. It did make me realize that, that friend i thought I was losing was really the only friend I've had for more than 2 years. Are reunion was much needed. We realized that we're nearing adulthood and that our inevitable separation is coming up. So the only thing to do now is enjoy ourselves. We talked and talked and now we're cool. And it feels like home again. 

New Gafas

Weekends are like the girl at school with daddy issues that gives blow jobs in the boys bathroom (to an extent). Before I continue I'd just like to advise everyone who knows this girl to give her a hug, tell her everything is going to be ok, then refer her to me because I got a management plan she can abide by that'll make her negative release profitable. She could make a chunk a change. Anyway, weekends are like her because there a silly tease. Your willing to wait all week and endure hell in shit classes just for the satisfaction of what can only be described as a quickie. Alls I'm saying is that its such a tease in that its got a big rep but ain't got shit to show for it. Its okay though, we still work for the weekend.






This weekend I went to Targét, a beautiful little french boutique a couple miles from home that just has the most adorable little things. Despite my being in a french store - (oh and by French i mean Republican owned American corporation) - I acted promptly as any American bred boy does. I SHOPPED! I really don't NEED anything but I sure as mother fucking WANT everything. I am American, we have got to establish that first and foremost. So, as an American not only am I a total capitalistic consumer whore but I'm also a fat ass. I love fatty salty fried things. And since my Nutri system frozen delicioucities have yet to come in the mail, I remain a fatty of boombaty proportions. Let's just say I wasn't eyeballin' those bikini's for myself as much as them fatty, salty, friend treats in the "food court". But I quickly remembered I had just eaten about 12 minutes prior to my deep state of "yum yum." So i turned around and saw some beautiful fake me out gafas that I just had to get, it was the only thing in the store that fit me. I tried them on and I looked like a douche in just about all of them (sans the mountain doo). Until i found some wanna-be ray bans and i got them, bought them and put them on. I felt complete, until the compulsion and overall joy of getting something new died out (remember it only has a .5 sec. lifespan). So now I'm bored and hungry, awaiting my Nutri System, looking a Bikini catalouges and planning another way to which expeirence that .5 sec joy of getting something NEW.

I truly believe that my art is not a result of some god given talent but rather a fundamental desire to make my ideas beautiful. When I arrive at those trivial moments in my life when I am unable express my ideas into words, my native reaction is to wrap my fingertips around a brush and paint my statement or sentiment. To say it simply; I make art because it is the most practical means of portraying expression for me. I create art because I am a human and humans are naturally expressive creatures. I am only taking advantage of the intrinsic expression I am capable of. Some choose to make music as their form of expression, others preach, some may write and some may kill but I paint.

 

Before any creation takes places I develop an idea. As a human I have either witness or lived through the spectrum of situations we have all endured whether happy or not. This is how I am able to discover and collect a plethora of ideas. Those ideas all stem from a singular vision which is that through my art I can prove my empathy for the tragic and beautiful. In the end I am inspired by us and the lives we share with each other, nature, and our imaginations.

 

My Sweet Dandelion 2009 - Rene Medrano

Because the origin of most of my art is factual or based on reality itself, it would be far too easy for me to illustrate my poignant statement through a literal depiction because the foundation is already literal. Instead I want to portray that reality through a conceptual lens that strips any real depictions away and introduces symbolic colors and shapes that represent each component of the story being told. This technique is what leads my art to be considered conceptual. Furthermore I love making beautiful things and I have always been adamant in making my art aesthetically pleasing to the eye (even if the aesthetic is unconventional). The correlation between conceptuality and beauty is a combination of my desire to make attractive pieces and my need for those pieces to get attention. For instance a piece that is flooded with peculiar geometry or eccentric colors is far more likely to mesmerize a person, than a painting of simple nature scenery. (Not to discredit the talent of artists who make literal art.)  In this way “mesmerization,” “conceptuality,” and “beauty” all become synonymous of each other thus making a viewer see the statement in a whole new way and begin to think of my message in a whole new way and hopefully walk away inspired.

 

The process in making my art fascinates me. I begin with a random observation or contemplation. As soon as an opinion, quandary or emotion generates within me because of that certain observation, I collect ideas on how to creatively manipulate my inspiration into visual art. I must say that my love for transforming ideas into words and words into colors, shapes, and brushstrokes is a vital component for the love that fuels my passion for art. Although the creative thought process of an art piece is riveting and enjoyable nothing beats the feeling of actually creating the art piece. I always begin with my general brainstorming in mind but whilst I’m caught in the chaos that is painting most of that structured thinking is defenestrated.  I mostly maintain a basic illustration of my original thoughts only adjusting the placement of certain components. A lot of the adjustments I make are a result of the conditions under which I make my art. I face these adjustments rather constantly because I am not a traditionally trained artist. It is those types of challenges that make my art all the more special. For example if I happen to drip paint on to the canvas accidently, I appreciate it and utilize that accident as though it were fate. This discourse between structured planning and impulsive painting allows me to always remain conceptual.

I Am Eliot 2008 - Rene Medrano

All things considered when all inspiration has taken place and creativity has developed a living art piece representing a now tangible statement; my job is to have conveyed some sort of message. My message is hope. Almost every painting I make has a message of hope, sometimes done intentionally other times not. I portray a sad reality and I want to convey the message of hope in order to tell my audience that life is beyond sadness. I have made paintings from everything from abortion to genocide, from racism to prostitution. I want to say to the world we can move pass the judgment, the hatred and violence and experience the beauty of our bodies, minds and universe. That transcendence is my message of hope.

 

If at the end of my days there is nothing left of me, one thing will remain certain about me and that is my innate love for art. Art has proved to be my past as established by my ability to work with my hands a quality I believe I have bequeathed from my mother and her mother who both are artisans. Art has proved to be my present as established by my constant need to translate inspiration into visual art or written art. Art has proven to be my future because I couldn’t imagine a day when the feeling of paint dripping upon that white canvas for the first time is not a satisfying feeling for me. Art is my source of nostalgia and encouragement. Art allows me to evoke expressions freely without demanding constraints. Art makes my statement beautiful, original and brilliant. I am René Medrano; an artist.

Raw Beginnings.

So this my first entry.

I'm tired of live journal.

I want this blog to be a more personal one.

Nothing schmanccie.

Just my life in text form.

I want to just have a really fucked up day

and be able to write it down for the world to see.

I also have another blog, blogging reviews about films,

music, television, food,

just reviews about everything, even reviews.

So. Read if you like.

Continue with your internet porn if you don't.