creative

Creating for Fun Releases Stress

When I create art, it most often represents the mind control programming and abuse enacted on my mind and body while growing up in Sam Fife’s Move of God cult.

When I have the opportunity to create for a child, I get to revisit my own childhood.  I ask questions about the child.  If it’s a child I know,  I take their personality into consideration.  For instance, the little girl receiving this piece is rather silly.  So, recycling an old greeting card with a woman who is wearing a cake hat, is right up this child’s alley.

This is where being a multiple is at a creative advantage for me.  Because my mind sees through gendered lines, I am able to conceptualize what a person may be feeling inside.    It allows me to bring their world perspective into the piece.  Creating for someone else’s heart is a welcomed break which allows my own to rest.

This latest project also afforded me a new opportunity.  I created my first time lapse art video.  Yeah!  I enjoyed being able to watch my own process in action.  I hope you enjoy it as well!

Art Therapy for Trauma Survivers

Sometimes it helps me to dump my head through visuals.   I believe deeply in art and photography therapy for trauma survivors.   Many of you say “but I’m not a good artist!”  See, it’s not about being “good” in someone’s eyes, even your own.  It’s about figuring out your method to expel pent up energy.

Slashes of red and orange paint swiped across a canvas can be an abstract release of anger.  Photos of flowers you love can lift your spirits.  There is no method set except the one you choose.

Here are a few examples of art pieces and photos of things that called my to me.  If you’d like to see more, you can visit my art store at:

Vennie-Kocsis.pixels.com

Photography

Digital Art

Canvas art / mixed media

Now go! Create! Gather leaves and stones and paint.  Let your body naturally lead you into the outlet ever human is gifted with.  💫💫

Ruins Of a Forgotten City 

When I create art it is usually in random spaces of time surrounding emotional overflow which needs to be expelled. Free flow ability is an important element for me to be able to live a self-healthy lifestyle.

When a local woman came across my art and contacted me, she told me that she found my recurring theme of the anime warrior compelling in regards to her child, who has struggled with personal mental situations. As the mother shared why she wanted me to do a piece for her teenager, I could relate both as a mother myself and as the once raging teenager.

I was thrilled to find out that the teenager also loves anime, color and is sensitive to the world. I was even more excited when mom gave me creative freedom.

I really love coding pieces with positive elements and energy. There are patterns and codes in old sketches, in new paintings and even in old journals. This piece is filled with strength and self worth to be passed on to a young person who is struggling inside just like I did and still do.

I don’t do many pieces for others, so when I have the opportunity to do so, I feel humbled and honored. This one flowed and spilled out. The process was cathartic. I finished it feeling re-empowered in parts of myself.

I am an advent child, standing in the ruins of a forgotten city. I cherish everything.

Untitled
8 x 10 stretched canvas
Elements: acrylic, metallic oil acrylic and velvet

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Hourglass

There’s a faded line
Between reality and time I
Catch myself remembering rejection
Straddling a log fence watching
Them play and laugh and shout
Odd girl out
Too loud

I used to be an expert at stilts
Stride the mud like a queen
I could do anything
If I just believed but
I never prayed hard enough to
Make God real and
It would be a version of
Drop Dead Fred who
Emerged the memories in my head

Do you know the flashes
That leave gashes behind your eyelids
Ask a soldier if he can forget
The blood of war then
Ask me if I can erase
The horror of flailing bodies
And belt straps stripping skin

No
We don’t forget

We learn to live occasionally laughing and
We hide the burning in our throat
The angst that never goes away
We become quiet
Learn to fake it
To not ruin moments
Become awkward
We pass the bread and wine
Close our eyes to the sighs
As we lose track of time

We hope we don’t carry on
The aftermath of our dysfunction
Watch our children struggle
As we cry in silence

To do it over, take the pain
Would I endure it again
The lashes and shunning
The fear and repentance for
Deeds confused and undone
Would I die again just to be here
Take the scourging of my flesh
To understand the depth
That loneliness can sink a soul
I don’t know

I am back walking paths
Running to escape shadows
Hiding behind trees and
The demons who will enter me
So they preach and I
Reach my arms to the moon

Take me home
I want to leave this place where
The babies cry and fathers weep as
Mothers scrape together meals
Where humans have forgotten to feel

Take me back
I want out of this mission
I am missing starlight and quiet
The soft green beneath my
Weeping willow tree
You promised me

I am watching sand fall slowly
Motion reversed I am poised
Rehearsed for the scene
But if I told you that
My ears can’t take the screams
And my heart can’t take the weight
Would you hold me

Would you softly kiss the spot
Above my heart and
Understand the sadness without
Judgement or coldness
Would you encase my face and
Tell me I’m safe

Because you see I am just
A little girl lost and
Sometimes I am tired, weak
Battle torn and worn
Longing for touch

So I sit beneath the pines
Write poetry lines and
Breathe in the rain because
Water washes pain and
I am an hourglass waiting it out
Until the last drop
Turns me on my end and
I restart this life again.

©VennieKocsis

Collaborator No More 

Don’t ask me to collaberate unless there’s compensation, and that compensation has to be given to me first.  I’ve been burned more than not in the area of collaborating. Giving my time and talents over to anyone is a privilege.  My gifts have value.

Collaborators are interesting creatures.  They love bomb like this:  “Vennie you’re the greatest (flattery, flattery, flattery) I’d love for you to (write/paint/sing for me)!”

In the past, my response was to trust, have ethics and step up to the plate in the exchange.  Until…

Weeks later… The collaborator had their shit from me (because I followed through with what I said I was going to do), and I had… Nothing in return. Then suddenly their love bombing disappeared, the collaborator conveniently doesn’t know me anymore and pays no more attention to my work.  They have moved on to their next victim.   They are in the business of extraction.

So when people ask me to collaberate the answer is no unless there is direct compensation.

I am sure many creatives can relate to this type of scenario. Creative exchange should be an equal flow.  Not one side using the other.

Creatives who have gone Hollywood are a turn off to me.  They are stripped of ethics and swept up into the pattern of using and discarding people. They care only about notoriety.  Where is the passion when art becomes emotional and financial greed?  We creatives should receive compensation, of course.   But when creatives use other creatives, that is not collaboration.  That is piranha ass hattery.

Erykah Badu said that once a creative gives their gifts away it doesn’t belong to them anymore.  I agree.   I give away my words every day.  I bare my soul.  I risk plagiarism, and it doesn’t matter because I’m connecting with lives.  I do so by choice.

But don’t ask me to work on your project for free.  My free time is already invested into the stock of Vennie.

Ghosts Of the Forest

“Ghosts Of the Forest” / acrylic on 11×14 canvas / artist Vennie Kocsis / 2015

While taking a walk in the woods on Monday, light patterns revealed faces and figures in the forest ground. Memories took on a mind of their own tonight as ghosts flowed from my soul. Letting them go with a brush, a canvas and a pen.

IMG_5988

Streams of Consciousness

I don’t write in this category often. I don’t want to share the daily grind. Held back by need for privacy, knowing that vultures are always waiting, insignificant events in the interim. Funny how people hide their shame. Who gives a fuck. It’s all a game of who can judge better, and my heart is thick and egg is good for the skin.

People make me ponder. Why are so many ascended ones still struggling with closed minds? I’m going to listen to my gut instinct on that one. I felt it from day one It just feels off. No need for explanations. Follow the path.

So many things about c-ptsd taken for granted; like why we don’t remember conversations well, or how we met people, or even names that go with faces. We remember what was significant to us. It never matches the other person’s memory. The result, we are perceived as unstable in our thinking at times.

Yet, I observe from an understanding that most people just simply don’t have the facts to be able to understand. I’m tired of explaining. It’s time for people to step up and care in general on a human level. When I see it lacking in someone, the inability to open to altering possibilities, I move on now. I just don’t have the desire to waste any more time. I want to say grow up and read. Be self educated. There’s no excuse. Accept information. Consider it. Weigh it. Open your mind.

Quit taking it all so fucking personal. Truth hurts because you let it hurt you. Instead of letting it water your seedling.

A year of aloneness and inward focus. My eyelids fade to grey. I can tell when it’s not time to speak yet. So I say enough to scatter the bread crumbs and satisfy the watchers.

Grandiose delusions. Just a spark inside infancy. Infinite sea. The more I speak, the more I just want to be silent. Some things are meant just for me, and that’s where acceptance comes to be.

The need to share holds hands with validation. The one who needs none, they say, is the most powerful on earth. Science. Facts. None of it is relevant except for;

The straining to hear
The weariness of human language
The readiness to sleep a thousand years

How comforting that thought.

This mission has been fought with precision, and from where I stand there’s a battle at hand.

I know what will come, and it feels like a shrug.