The Human Touch

At the beginning of the year, before I started this blog, I posted about breaking away from creating artwork in the Procreate app. I wanted to get back into printmaking, specifically relief printing, which I practiced extensively in college. After graduating, it was difficult to continue with printmaking because acquiring a press was not easy, and coming out of college with very little money meant it would be a long time before I could afford one. Now, with an established career, I’m finally able to pursue this passion. I purchased an etching press, cherry wood panels, linoleum, copper plates, Gelli plates, and every engraving and relief-cutting tool I could find. I also needed to replace all my acrylic paints for the Gelli plates and bought water-based relief ink for block printing. Here we go—let’s do this!

I started with wood and linocut relief printing. I tend to overcomplicate my designs for my skill level, so my first few results were less than satisfying. Scrolling through Instagram, I saw all these relief printers producing intricate and clean prints, and I thought it would be easy for me to do the same. Nope! My work ended up looking crude and rough. I told my partner I was making “punk rock prints” because of their raw appearance. Some of my struggles stemmed from overlooking the need to keep my tools sharp, selecting the right paper, and understanding the ink. I also learned little tricks to prevent unwanted ink from printing on the paper and using tabs to align it more efficiently. Even though I wasn’t overly thrilled with my creations, I managed to sell some of them.

I’m not sure if my drawing style sets unrealistic expectations for what is possible with relief printing or if I just need more practice. Perhaps this medium isn’t the right fit for me at the moment.

I set the relief printing aside and moved on to mono printing using the Gelli plate. Once again, I was inspired by the cool artwork being created with gel plates, which are clear, plastic-silicone-like plates used to create mono prints. Mono means one, so it’s similar to painting, but you can actually transfer a photograph to the plate and paint on it. Essentially, you paint backward in layers on the Gelli plate, allowing each layer to dry before making the final print. By rolling either matte medium or a layer of acrylic paint as the final layer, you press Bristol paper onto the plate and place a few weighted books on top to ensure the print transfers from the gel plate to the paper.

This is where it gets tricky. Pulling the print from the plate doesn’t always go smoothly, and during my first few attempts, I ended up ripping my paper. In general, this style of printing can be incredibly frustrating. It starts with trying to get the perfect photo transfer registered onto the plate. I encountered two main issues: either rolling out too much ink onto the plate or not enough. The amount of waste I created with paper, paint, tape, and paper towels left me feeling incredibly discouraged. I found myself envious of those perfect Instagram artists who seemed to effortlessly produce beautiful print after print. It took what felt like a billion attempts before I began to see my errors and correct them. I have made four designs that I liked, but I was ready to take a break from Gelli plate printing. I’ll definitely revisit it, but I think I want to shift the theme of my artwork to using my travel photographs instead of creepy, occult drawings.

Currently, I’m not feeling the joy I usually experience after creating something. Everything has felt just so-so, and I keep hoping for something better. After the mono print, I created two pieces in Procreate, which helped lift my spirits. It’s not that I need the computer; I used to feel good about my paintings and pen-and-ink drawings in the past. Printmaking seemed like it would be easier for me to master, but it hasn’t clicked yet. I may just need more time, or perhaps my creative interests don’t align well with relief printing or mono printing at this point.

I have one more avenue in printmaking that I’m about to explore. My college professor suggested I try copper plate etching after seeing my current artworks from the Majestas series. He believes I may be able to transfer the marks I make in my drawings more easily as an etching. I think he’s right. Etching was never something I truly embraced in college; I only completed a short class project to learn about the process. I really hope this is where I find my love for printmaking.

Until next time...

Love and light always.

---

My Adventures as an Oddities and Curiosities Expo. Vendor

Last weekend, I wrapped up my short tour with The Oddities and Curiosities Expo. I participated in three shows close to home: Louisville, Columbus, and Indianapolis. This was my second year working with them, and when I applied, I wasn’t sure how many shows I would get or what my commitment level could be. I made the mistake of holding out for a different convention that was highly anticipated but ultimately turned out to be a flop. Needless to say, I won’t be making that mistake again. Next year, I’d like to make time for 6-8 shows with O&CE if they’ll have me. I’m honestly amazed at how well I did as just a small table vendor. The talent at the convention is incredible, and it’s overwhelming to resist the urge to spend all my money on the lovely vendors. To keep myself in check, I set a rule: I can only buy one item for myself at each convention. This year, I bought a woodcut print by Travis Lawrence in Louisville and, in Columbus, I found a Muntjac deer skull that I’ve been wanting for a long time. Deer hold a special place in my heart, and this unusual little animal often appears in my art. Look it up online if you’re curious! I kept my cool in Indianapolis and didn’t come home with any collectibles, but I did let my daughter spend some money, so that counts.

My best sellers across the board include pieces from my Cordyceps series, the *Last Supper* (aka *Prima Cena*) print, the *Winter Witch* (aka *Winter Solstice*) print, the *Ritual Night* print, individual ghoulish cherubs, and all of my stickers. Every copy of at least one of my art pieces finds a home, but those I mentioned are my most popular. In Indianapolis, I decided to bring a few original paintings because several people in Columbus had asked if I had originals. I was shocked when one of them sold within the first hour of the show! I regret not asking the nice woman who bought it for a picture holding it; I was simply too excited to think of it. My daughter was inspired by all the vendor artists and began drawing while she sat with us. I let her display some of her pieces on my board for a small price and a free sticker from mom, and she ended up making some sales! I didn’t push anyone to buy her drawings. Most people would see her work and ask about the story behind it, and once I mentioned it was my daughter’s art, they insisted on buying it. She has a tough time dealing with attention, which makes her anxious, so it’s sometimes hard to gauge her feelings when people talk to her. However, she lets her guard down around us, and she was genuinely touched by the support. It was wonderful to involve her. Her father and I were a bit concerned about having her in the booth all day, fearing she would get bored. We were glad to see her drawing instead of playing video games or scrolling on her dad’s phone all day. She loved watching the sideshow performers and kept asking us questions like, “How does that guy not hurt himself when he hammers that nail up his nose?” I kept reminding her that they are professionals and not to try that at home!

This is the type of art exhibition I love. I think I’m done with gallery exhibitions unless I’m invited to participate in a group show, but for now, vending has been the best way to share my art and connect with buyers. I believe people are more inclined to buy when they can meet and talk to the artist and engage directly with the artwork. I enjoy setting up my table so that people have to sift through the bins at the prints. Additionally, while some attendees might come to the expo just to browse or collect from a specific vendor, they are generally eager to see everything on display. I appreciate that bars, coffee shops, and restaurants want to showcase art, but I feel that people are often in a different mindset there; they might only acknowledge the artwork hanging on the wall for a couple of seconds without considering ownership or researching it further.

I’ve also enjoyed making friends with other vendors. There’s a genuine sense of community among the O&CE vendors, which is refreshing. When I first considered stepping into the world of vending, I worried there would be negativity or pretentiousness. I was part of a group chat for arts and crafts vendors in Kentucky that was unrelated to O&CE, and I was put off by one participant’s attitude towards the expo. This individual was upset about not getting into the exposition and began disparaging O&CE and its vendors. They claimed the expo didn’t care about local and regional vendors, only selecting the same people for their shows, and that the work on display wasn’t any good. After listening to their negativity about the vendors, I felt compelled to chime in and mention that I was in the show and had applied just like they did. It was disheartening to read such disdain simply because they weren’t accepted, so I decided to leave the group. I even tried to offer some professional advice but received a passive-aggressive response instead. DIY makers should be supportive of one another, no matter where we come from. I am grateful to be accepted and welcomed in cities and states outside my own. Holding a negative attitude like that individual displayed would be counterproductive to being a vendor.

While I’m done with O&CE shows for the rest of this year, I’m not done with vending. I have a show scheduled every month until November, with most being in Kentucky. However, I’ll also be heading down to Nashville in June for the Rotten Revival Show and then to Ohio for the Halloween Market in July. You can find all the information on my Events page.

My shirts have arrived, and they’re now available for sale! If you attended the Indianapolis show, you were able to grab one there—thank you to those who did!

I’ve started sketching out a design for a linocut featuring the Grim Reaper in the famous Marilyn Monroe pose, where the street vent blows her dress up. It just screamed to be on a shirt and a sticker, so I ran with it. The color variants are rust and citron, as I wanted to move away from the standard black t-shirt. I love a classic black tee, but this design needed to be on a different color. Contact me directly to purchase a shirt for $30.00.

-love and light always

Beltane

Beltane- Beltane is a Gaelic holiday that is celebrated between the spring equinox and the coming of the summer solstice. It is a holiday for fertility and the returning of the warmth and light of the sun. It’s commonly celebrated with decorations made of flowers and dancing around bonfires. Here my Nomadiskeli adorned in a dress blooming with flowers holds a burning crown of thorns to symbolically show the burning away of pain and sorrow in life.

Why the eye? Eyes express the innermost feelings and desires of the heart. Eye’s are symbolically associated with intelligence, light, vigilance, moral conscience and truth.

May 1 is Beltane and last year I made this artwork for the holiday. I thought I’d share it because it hasn’t been a big seller for me which kind of surprises me. Maybe if I would have used a different animal skull and not a wolf to represent the holiday or perhaps adorned her with a headdress. All my focus was on her gown and making it turn into flowers as if to blanket the land in new growth. I thought maybe the crown of thorns burning might have made people uncomfortable but I never get any questions about it. It’s not at all about burning Jesus Christ but more about what the symbol of the thorns mean which is suffering. You can purchase Beltane here, https://nomadical.bigcartel.com/product/beltane or you can find her with me at all my exhibition events. This coming weekend I’m in Indianapolis with the Oddities and Curiosities Expo. Event details are on my Events page as well as other vending events that I will be doing.

My time has been consumed but I have another artwork that I’m putting together for a copper plate etching that will also be about Beltane. It’s nowhere near ready just because I’ve been so busy with conventions and tattoo work. My process for creating is slower when I’m not using the iPad to make the art but the results are empowering. I look forward to showing you that process and hopefully some good prints.

I also have a t-shirt coming out and I might even have them at this coming weekends expo. I’m making updates to my print store in May and will add prints, stickers and my shirts for you to buy.

Thank you very much for all the love and support for my creating endeavors. I am deeply touched when people find me at the conventions and tell me they are fans and wanted to meet me in person.

-love and light always

The Angels Revolt and the Eternal Rebel

Some people look at my artwork and label me as anti-Christian or anti-religious, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I believe religion can be incredibly useful for individuals who might feel lonely or trapped in unhealthy lifestyles. I have nothing against practicing good morals or finding ways to bring peace and compassion into one’s life. However, I do have a problem when a religion seeks to conquer the world like a foe and rules over it like a tyrant.

We stopped traveling abroad around 2012 when my partner and I decided to become parents. During my time at home with a tiny baby, I began paying more attention to the news and social media. What I saw was a landscape filled with fear, anger, and fierce patriotism intertwined with Christian beliefs. I’ve always admired the comedian Bill Hicks, and something he once said came to mind as I observed what my country was becoming:

“The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, and close yourself off. The eyes of love, instead, see us all as one.”

There’s more to that quote, but that particular part stuck with me. As a traveler, I’ve never feared the world or the myriad cultural and religious differences among humanity. I never believed that everyone had to share the same beliefs or that there was only one right way to exist on this earth. When I started noticing an increasingly aggressive divide between what we now call conservatives and liberals, it upset me. I had hoped that, by this point in time, we would be more unified and accepting of our differences. I felt uneasy raising a daughter in a world that seemed to be closing itself off and potentially stripping away her rights. It troubled me to think that Christian values could dictate the rights of all people.

So, I rebelled.

I found a book titled *The Revolt of the Angels* by Anatole France. In this fictional story, a small group of earthbound angels who pose as artists decide to wage war against God and the heavens after the archbishop’s guardian angel begins reading books on art, philosophy, and science. The angels believe God is a cruel tyrant who must be overthrown for humanity's sake. They ask Satan to initiate a revolution, but “spoiler alert”—after an unsettling dream, Satan realizes that if they overthrew God, he would eventually become just as tyrannical as the God he sought to destroy. Nobody wins in this scenario; we must overcome our own jealousy, fear, superstition, and ignorance to cultivate compassion, wisdom, and curiosity. Victory lies in the spirit, and it is within ourselves alone that we can rise above the constraints of a tyrannical God.

After reading this book, I began channeling my artwork into the theme of fallen angels rebelling against a controlling, jealous God. My goal was to focus on experiencing empathy not through worship and prayer to a higher power, but by feeling it within oneself. The love of goodness doesn’t stem from a love of God. In some of my art, I aimed to portray these ideas by making it appear wrong or rebellious to experience compassion as a godless being.

This series has been an interesting journey for me, and I’ve received a range of reactions from viewers. While I mostly receive praise, there are always a couple of individuals who react with fear or anger at what they see, and I understand why. It’s easy to cling to superstitious and horror-themed ideologies that paint godless individuals as purely evil and cruel. No side is perfect; both the followers of God and the non-followers have made mistakes and are guilty of cruelty. I believe we can only do what is right for ourselves, and I hope everyone respects that religion is a personal choice. Not everyone will want to follow the same path.

I often get called a rebel, an outcast, or sometimes a weirdo for feeling this way, but I’m okay with it.

-image below is a combination of a woodcut and mono print I made titled, The Eternal Rebel. Completed March 2024

The Next Destination

I’m back! February was a bit rough in my household as both my daughter and I caught a respiratory virus. Between recovering from that and the business picking up at the tattoo studio, I haven’t had a chance to focus on writing here.

Where were we? Ah yes, the next destination after my time in a Buddhist sangha. Before moving on, I want to take a moment to remember Lama Ponya, who led our group and has recently passed away. Though he had long since hung up his red robes to become a minister, he was a beautiful human being, full of compassion for humanity. He was a shining light for many and will be deeply missed.

The next destination led to many destinations. My husband and I began looking outward instead of inward, and we took to traveling abroad. The world is vast, and while we saw quite a bit, we are nowhere near having explored it all; that was never our goal. In Europe, we visited Ireland, the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, France, Germany, and the Czech Republic. In Africa, we spent three weeks in Morocco. In Asia, we traveled to Nepal, Mongolia, Thailand, Myanmar, and Cambodia. Lastly, we explored Guatemala, Belize, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic.

It would be impossible for me to describe every unique experience in each country without turning this into a novel, and I’m not sharing this as a travel guide. So, what is it all about? Why venture so far away and immerse ourselves in places where, at times, we stood out like sore thumbs? Sometimes, it was dirty and uncomfortable, with illness thrown into the mix. We genuinely wanted to see the beauty of the world, but shedding fear and assumptions was essential to that journey. Some people we knew believed that the United States holds all the beauty and culture one needs to appreciate the world. For us, it felt deeper; it was about seeking to understand the meaning of life.

I was only 10 when the reality of death hit me. I can remember exactly where I was—on a school playground. I don’t recall anyone saying anything to trigger this thought; it just dawned on me with chilling fear that someday I would have to die. That revelation changed me. It was the day my faith in God faded, and I began to question everything. My interest in other cultural beliefs ignited at that age, with the library serving as my gateway to those parts of the world.

There’s something unique about stepping out of one’s comfort zone. It can either boost your confidence, or you may retreat, vowing never to leave it again. I’ve always felt there are two types of travelers: those who plan their travels around comfort—like going on a cruise—and those who simply buy a plane ticket, grab a guidebook, and go. We were the latter.

When I first stepped into a foreign city that felt unorganized and chaotic, my initial emotions were fear and panic. I’m talking about places that are far less westernized, with language and cultural differences that can be overwhelming. It’s crowded, and you can’t understand anyone or read the street signs. It’s often dirty, sometimes smelly, and the traffic is loud and abrasive. It always felt surreal to be in the calm of the airport while clearing customs, as that space still felt like home. But then you step outside, into a taxi, and are suddenly immersed in it all, needing to figure everything out for yourself.

It’s empowering to break out of your sheltered world. You quickly realize that behind the curious gazes and language barriers, strangers are incredibly kind and willing to help you find your way. After a few trips like that, I stopped worrying, and I grew to love returning to that tumultuous atmosphere.

The kindness of strangers and the natural desire to connect often seem lacking in more westernized countries. I haven’t traveled like this since 2013, and I wonder if smartphones and social media have affected these connections. When you remove yourself from those devices, you can better experience empathy. At the time of our travels, social media existed, but not to the extent it does now, and people were more focused on network news to influence their perceptions. Even today, we are taught that the world is dangerous and meant to be feared. But traveling like we did opened our eyes to the reality that people are just people, much like us. It’s easier to say than to truly believe, but life is fundamentally simple. There’s great beauty in simplicity, yet we are often taught to look down on it and to push ourselves to be something more grandiose.

I’m not saying life is simple because the people we met were simple. I’m describing the simplicity that comes from removing yourself from the familiar and living in the moment. We truly lived in the moment, allowing each country to guide us with minimal preparation. If we met a stranger who invited us into their home for tea, we accepted. If a car full of French tourists offered to drive us to the desert, we hopped in. If a Mongolian nomad put us on a horse and took us to his grandparents' ger/yurt to drink fermented mare's milk, that’s exactly what we did.

My heart opened to the world, and I realized that life doesn’t need to have any inherent meaning at all. It simply is.

---

Image below was taken in Nepal 2001 while crossing a suspending foot bridge over the Kali Gandaki River

The Train Station

I love to write, even though I know I’m not perfect at it. I’m sure I make a million grammatical errors, but writing is meditative for me, so I tend not to dwell too much on my shortcomings.

I wanted to share more about my thoughts on religion and philosophy, as I know some of you are curious. This ties directly into the themes present in my artwork, so it makes sense to discuss it here. I also feel it's important to be prepared for conversations about this, especially since some of the visuals in my work might make some viewers uncomfortable. It can be challenging to engage in a peaceful dialogue when people are attached to certain ideologies or assumptions that challenge traditional theologies. I've always believed—and still do—that one's religion or lack thereof is a private matter. There isn’t a single right way for all of us to navigate this world. We each must find what works best for us individually, doing what makes us feel good and happy, as long as it doesn't impose harm on any life form.

I would describe my philosophical and religious journey as akin to a train station, with many platforms waiting to take me to various destinations. Sometimes, I read about the places the trains will take me and choose not to board because I know they aren’t meant for me. However, I have boarded a few trains and stayed on them for a long time, one of which was Buddhism. My interest in Buddhism began shortly after I graduated from high school. I was drawn to its ideology that life is suffering, but that I could overcome this suffering through meditation and by seeing the beauty in life. Unlike the linear religions that emphasize belief in a higher power, Buddhism appealed to me because of its cyclical nature and its approach that doesn't center around godly worship. Hermann Hesse’s *Siddhartha* was my favorite book, and it remains close to my heart to this day. However, despite riding the Buddhist train for quite some time, I found I could never fully disembark and plant my feet firmly on its ground.

What changed? The more I connected with the community, the more alien it began to feel. I joined a sangha practicing Tibetan Buddhism, which is visually stunning, and as an artist, I loved the imagery and lore surrounding it. One day, we visited a Zen Buddhist retreat center, and as we approached the temple, I noticed a white stone statue of the Buddha seated at the entrance. Some members bowed and prostrated themselves before the statue, which is common in Tibetan Buddhism. I couldn’t bring myself to do it; I didn’t feel any spiritual drive to worship the statue as the Buddha himself. While I deeply appreciate the art of depicting Buddha, to me, the statue was just that—a statue. I could admire it and remember the teachings, but expressing adoration through bowing and praying didn’t feel right for me.

Then came the dream. Not long after, I had a memorable dream where I found myself in the Himalayan mountains at the entrance to a Buddhist monastery. I was alone, loaded with backpacking gear. For those unfamiliar with my history, I’ve traveled and hiked in the Himalayas of Nepal, so this setting wasn’t entirely foreign to me. I ascended steep steps, passing a couple of red-robed monks, and upon reaching the top, I entered the monastery. The room was smoky and bathed in muted golden light, with yellow tapestries covering the windows. The floor was adorned with weathered, overlapping oriental rugs, as if they had been walked on for years. Across the room, a lama sat in lotus position on a high altar, flanked by two monks. He wore a teardrop-shaped yellow hat typical for lamas and smiled at me, beckoning me to come forward.

Slowly, I removed a white prayer shawl from my coat pocket, holding it outstretched in both hands as I walked toward him. I believed he was going to bless it, as many foreigners seek when visiting a monastery. Standing directly below the altar, I held the shawl up toward him. Still smiling kindly, he said nothing. Instead, he placed both of his hands over mine and gently pushed the shawl back toward my chest. Confused and somewhat resistant, I tried to extend it toward him again while he held my hands. He continued to smile, and as I felt my arms pushing back, the shawl returned to my chest. He held it there, gazing into my eyes with a smile, and then I woke up.

What to make of that? It’s a dream I’ll never forget, even though it happened about 22 years ago. I interpreted it as a sign that I wasn’t meant to fully commit to being a Buddhist. It didn’t feel cruel or unwelcoming—just surprising. Did I receive a divine message from a high lama? I doubt it. Sometimes, I think our expressive minds like to remix our memories while we sleep, creating the dreams we experience. Regardless of its origin, this dream had a profound effect on me. While I continued to carry some aspects of Buddhism that I cherished, I largely stopped practicing and exploring its literature after that dream.

I know I’ve written quite a bit today, but I won’t dissect every direction I’ve traveled. The important thing is to convey how I arrived at where I am now. It felt necessary to discuss Buddhism, as it has played a significant role in my life for many years. If you visit my home today, you will still find many relics, statues, and artwork reflecting the culture of Buddhist practice.

And now, onto the next destination.

---

I’ll continue all of this in a new blog post on another day. Pictured below is from 2010 when I was in Thailand at the train station in Bangkok.