Emily Munoz

I CHANGE MYSELF,

I CHANGE THE WORLD

ISOLATION VS SOLITUDE

SOLITUDE

ISOLATION

A SNAKE THAT CANNOT SHED ITS S

SKIN

PERISHES

Cut glue paste. That’s all I’ve ever done.

I’m a shoe maker you see. Back in the day they called us coblers.

But I’m just a shoe maker. I make shoes with pretty embelishments in tons of colors. Fringe boots are what I made first. Like Indians, excuse me, Native Americans once wore. The red paint on the shoes is the blood I cough up. I paint designs in my blood.

People love my shoes.

They come from far away to buy them. Because I make them with my soul.

My soul. My blood. My life. Your shoes. I make them in all colors of the rainbow. They sit on my spiral staircase waiting for a home.

Like little orphans.

THOUGHTS ARE THE SHADOWS OF OUR EMOTIONS

The tears she cried were full of life. I heard a rumor that her fish died and she went to burry it in the backyard. A single tear fell and she found the fish flopping again.

It’s like someone wanted her to be happy. To fix the unfixable. No one really knows how or why. She’s always been special.It’s a pity you know that the tears must flow, and the girl must be in sorrow. Oh sad sad girl, what beauty you bring to this earth.

If only tears of happiness could bring about the same effect. Eyes are the windows to the soul; she’s full of life.

s s e e h y . s e l

THOUGHT

What is thought? Thought is thought out. Out the door you sill snowman. The unicorn flies solo.

Angry. Anger. Mad. Mad cow disease. Mad chicken disease. That’s one crazy chicken. El pollo loco.

Oh sweet child.

Oh sour patch kid.

How mischeivious you are.

Power lies in lies.

Which lie?

I never do, never blue.

Unknown.

Moral Culpability vs Freewill

The Beautiful vs the Sublime bright colors bright lights tingling, dizzy tired. crunchy, juicy, purple, green thirsty. fasinated phone ringning brain tingling windy, smokey fog swirls lingers

REGRET

Final Reflection I noticed that I always had some sort of visceral reaction to the prompts. I never knew exactly what I wanted to create; I would just make things as they came to me. I did not notice a change in my response to the prompts. The visuals I created definitely gave way to what I wrote. For example, when I drew a picture with many bright, blocked colors, my writing became choppy, “energy energy energy, bustling, beaming, bursting”. Of all of the prompts we worked on, I think my favorite was “Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler.” I really enjoyed this prompt because it really pushed my limits of thinking. It’s such an abstract concept, however, it easily lead to the creation of art full of meaning. My favorite material we used was acrylic paint. I loved blending the colors. And painting in general is always relaxing. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I took any risks in my art work, because I don’t believe there is any risk in art.

When I make art, it is usually meant to portray a specific emotion or idea. Unless you are producing art work for a mass audience, I don’t really think there are any risks in art. Art is not life or death. The same is true with writing. Writing in a way that is typically not done is not taking a risk. There is no risk involved in writing letters on a page or drawing or painting. Some consistencies I have noticed in my art work are the color schemes I used.

I was drawn to many deep reds and purples. Also, as far as the final work produced I’ve noticed that I have a tendency to draw abstract things. Never in my art works did I draw anything as it appears in reality. Another thing I noticed was that every piece of art portrays a concept. In my writings I elaborate on the concept that I created through my art work. I didn’t notice any consistencies in the emotions portrayed in my artwork. Many of them were polar opposites. In some works I portrayed emotions of happiness and joy and in others I portrayed emotions of depression and anxiety.

Ten themes: Anxiety Depression Fate vs. Action Drowning Gravity Karma Curiosity Panic Death Life Regret Hate