Last night, my crazy, creative, childish mind and hands started playing havoc with colors. There were sketch pens, glitter glues in various hues, poster colors, acrylic colors, brushes , et al flying around in every imaginable corner of my home. Guess, what I was doing with them?
You think these beads are ART? Mwahahahaa. I was trying to destroy the colors at hand in the best possible way, my hands were all glued with glitter, so was my college style bag where a long spray of blue paint just splashed accidentally and on the dress which I had worn, a large copper glitter glue dot showed when I finished painting, out of nowhere. It was fun, I tell you & no, I was not trying to create art. Believe it or not, I painted and then smeared it all away, destroying my paintings on the beads to nothing but blobs of paints and I enjoyed it thoroughly, spreading different glues, paints, & all that I have in surplus stock.
All these beads were made while watching Jean-Claude Van Damme in "Bloodsport". I kinda think, that the fighting spirit must have got to me and whenever a neck, leg or hand was broken in the kumite, my hands must have felt like killing the bead and washing it in different colored blood (paint). The destroying spirit can be cool sometimes, expecially when the result is so fab and harmless, don't you think? ;)
You think these beads are ART? Mwahahahaa. I was trying to destroy the colors at hand in the best possible way, my hands were all glued with glitter, so was my college style bag where a long spray of blue paint just splashed accidentally and on the dress which I had worn, a large copper glitter glue dot showed when I finished painting, out of nowhere. It was fun, I tell you & no, I was not trying to create art. Believe it or not, I painted and then smeared it all away, destroying my paintings on the beads to nothing but blobs of paints and I enjoyed it thoroughly, spreading different glues, paints, & all that I have in surplus stock.
All these beads were made while watching Jean-Claude Van Damme in "Bloodsport". I kinda think, that the fighting spirit must have got to me and whenever a neck, leg or hand was broken in the kumite, my hands must have felt like killing the bead and washing it in different colored blood (paint). The destroying spirit can be cool sometimes, expecially when the result is so fab and harmless, don't you think? ;)
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