Blog - Tortured Soul

I need to get into character for the big Room and Board project… “WHAT’S MY MOTIVATION??!”

Backstory:

In a post-apocalyptic world, one breathtakingly beautiful woman finds herself wandering through the residential remains of South Minneapolis. She stumbles upon a letterpress print shop – it is impossibly intact. She drags her shopping cart of possessions inside and studies her surroundings. Type, ink, paper, a giant wrench and an autographed photograph of Kelly Clarkson. This is exactly like her dream – except without Abraham Lincoln. There isn’t much time before the feral cats find her…  But she finally has a method to preserve the dying language – at last! At long last… 

Whew! That was intense! Okay, enough screwing around – the clock is ticking and the cats are coming.

It’s unofficially Summer around here and to celebrate I’m going to make some more prints for Room & Board. People always ask me (no, they don’t) if I feel lonely or maybe a little afraid working out in the studio/shop/time warp at night. But how could I feel lonely or afraid out there when I have all of those cabinets of cold, lead type and Mark Wheat‘s voice coming from the plastic radio?

It is February 1.

If anyone is left please contact me. I have locked myself in the furnace room and my rations are dwindling. I am eating Panko Japanese Style Breading with a dirty popsicle stick and telling myself it’s Lik-A-Stix. Mmmmm, Lik-A-Stix…

Somehow, I was able to make this card:

The low magenta toner has put a hold on the catalog production. I am really, really upset about it. I’d like to spend more time with the new laser printer. Understanding its quirks, its likes and dislikes. What makes it get out of bed every morning? Does it enjoy being my slave? Don’t worry, Brother HL-4070CDW – this is only temporary. Jen paid the extra $3.99 for shipping and your toner will be here Wednesday. Thank you, Jen. I mean it. 

So I spent the day in the shop. Despite my tears I was able to lay out some previously written cards. I think the anguish really comes through. I am, after all, an artist. My soul is appropriately tortured. Whoa is me.