oh to be young again....she is not quite a hippy, maybe a hippy remake or redo or something. i remember my early years as more of a flower child, than a hippy. but i did wear soft moccasins, jeans and peasant blouses that i created myself. my hair was long blonde and straight and yes, sometimes, i did put a garland of small daisies in it. i wore white lipstick, if any.
hmm, i wonder who sold white lipstick...Revlon?
i got my ear pierces so that i could wear large hoops. i would lock myself in my bedroom and paint listening over and over to The Doors album "light my fire". my paintings in those days were of far away dreamy places i would like to go. i also loved pen and india ink, drawing repetitive lines that developed into posters of stratas, flowers and orangic designs.
sometimes, even today, my doodles while on a frustrating phone call (like the phone call i just had with sprint about unlimited text messaging we thought we had and turns out rosie texted us nearly into the poor house last month) take on stratas and repetitives designs. you know what i mean?
so, thinking back, i suppose i did painting and drawing in my teen years as more of a form of expression, a way to escape and release tension in my developing brain. also looking back, there was so much to worry about besides just growing up. my brother, for instance was lucky, his lottery number for Vietnam was high, even though during those years he heckled me to death, i was totally relieved he didn't have to go. some of our friends weren't so lucky. our parents it seemed were from a total different planet from us. my brother and i began calling our parents by their first name instead of mom and dad. we felt that alienated. but we weren't alone, it seemed everyone our age had a huge chasm between them and their parents - it went deeper than that, it was a generation gap bigger than any other time in history. we didn't relate to newscasters, political figures, barely teachers (although they really tried hard), store clerks - anyone over the age of 25!!! we were an island of teenagers, understanding only ourselves. and we were frustrated, angry and stressed out. yet, we wanted peace not war. these different emotions alone can make one crazy. angry but wanting peace. i suppose some people kinda know what that is like now. - but i think today, people are so distracted with ipods, plasma TVs, other forms of personal entertainment, well, its just not the same level of despair.
am i imagining things, but were the tv news programs more explicit about the awfulness with the war. i remember the Vietnamese protester lighting himself on fire in the middle of a busy street. that was gruesome and amazing all at once. there were horrific shots of soldiers parts and dead babies and crazy-ass Vietnamese children fighting dirty in the war. their unreal behaviour made us sit up straight and be thankful we didn't have little kids like that here in the states.
oh, i will have to stop now as i have totally digressed this morning.
looking at the painting, i need to fix the misshapen circle above her head - and one day i will learn to crop the image so that that inside of my scanner doesn't show.