The purest, immensely-oversized love I have ever known.
(My just-turned-4 and 6.2 year old babies)

Remember the doodle therapy every night? Here they are now:

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Entwined to the touch of memories or future wannabes.

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Dream catchers are irrelevant.

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Awaken to the smell of hope unspoken.

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Dreaming is better – it always has a wakeful ending.

This artwork will take part in an art exhibit for the Opening of The University of the Visayas School of New Media and Design
10th October 2012.

I hope our freedom of speech is not dying.

TWEET TO LOSE THE BEAK. So really what’s the point?

Honored to take part in an art exhibit for the Opening of The University of the Visayas School of New Media and Design
10th October 2012.

I wonder what these doodles make of me:

I wonder how these countless seeds or pebbles or beads come about.

I hope they’re happy to have gone out of my head.

Goodnight.

My favorite ensemble lateley. Less color, thick as midnight.
(jade stone – Accessorize; black gem – Call It Spring; thin white&blue bangle: gift from Paula from Thailand; black bangle: gift from Bevlee)

Contain all that’s been wanting to burst.
Like smoke that dances in each corner –
Corners of your eyes, where water
Forms each second and you
Push them back, and thought of
Being proud of yourself.

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Nameless shadows hung on the wall
They’ve become your friends and
You gave them pet names and
Breath becomes their reality
But that without rhythm
Still you dance like that trapped smoke.

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photo: Alex Wein
words: me

  
‘Cathedrals in my heart’ is a line from Coldplay’s ”Every Teardrop is a Waterfall”

This doodle is my offering to you, Universe: please hear my childish plea. Oh you know what it is! *wink!

doodle therapy needs: tea + blank moleskine + pen + music

 
My personal doodles are unplanned but they are schemingly mindful to me. They say “hey, i want to be a weird looking flower,” or others go “can I be a chaotic circle of some sort, please?“. They are polite and so I respect their requests and I let them flow awkwardly through my pen. I zone out at some point, seeing blurs even while continuing to draw. I end up with an aching arm, hardened fingers, sleepy eyes. But their existence give me a kind of satisfaction only they can give. I let them sleep for months or even years until I transform them into a design work – lay them out, fill them with colours, make a story out of a new found composition. I don’t expect them to be any kind of art, or design, I am simply satisfied at how they turn out. But more so delightfully at peace while dancing with them as they unfold.

Tonight, these:

I should be doing this every night, don’t you think?

I am so in the middle of my brain that it scares me. How did I manage to be in between? Take the quiz for yourself and let me know if your a leftbrainer or rightbrainer! ^_^