go fish

back home 

staining they sketchpads with inks

up all night alone they would not buy the lies for free

misfit friends in they head. loner celebration

extinguished the tv and touched the room with radio

they cast they line 

deep and trolled for broken

hearts

#katyamills

violet

the city streets was ice cold

they had clarity of thought and dangerous 

in the best way

disarming you with unanticipated sweetness

violet with kindness for the world 

#katyamills

Thiebaud

all the cakes and pies

gumballs turned out the machines

bouncing off kitchen floors

produced the precise sugar rush

required to render the masterpieces

san francisco streets

the geometry of farms and

orchards touched by sunlight

divided by river within

the delta

#katyamills

crypto night

they gave what they had 

the hours of attention undivided they gave

what they made 

digitally sealed cryptographic tokens

etched into trees scrawled 

upon paper

to fade

#katyamills

2 artists

to all aspiring artists

You can be an artist if you are creating as you go. you live your life and you record it with whatever materials you choose, in whatever way you wish to record it, not necessarily how it appears to you, but how it feels to you, not necessarily each and every thing which transpires, but those instances which stand out for you, for whatever reason, good or badness aside, morality unnecessary, judgment removed, recounting perhaps some infinitesimal change may have established in your thoughts, feelings, sentiments, or even your style, behavior, fashion, or manner of dreaming or daydreaming, it’s all up for grabs, whether it pushed you forward, pulled you in or dropped you out, whether it silenced you, gave you pause, made you more vocal or expressively settled you into new rhythms or arrhythms. you can be an artist in any medium but if you wanna be an artist try to be an artist every day. the chore may feel quite burdensome at times, and especially at the start but not only in the beginning, either, very often midstream, do not let this deter you, this aversion to effort, do not mistake it for a lack of inspiration, okay, we all get tired by work on mammoth projects in need of our unceasing attention, just battle on through and love yourself more for your ceaseless, tireless devotion to what you do. and remember, when you come across a crisis of confidence in yourself, perhaps in the face of the contender, or in light of a culture which has not yet opened its eyes to you, to your content, remember the unquestionable and valid fact of your life, that only you have lived this life, this life can neither be price-tagged nor questioned, this life is yours and your alone and you are and always will be its great historian. and without you telling it, showing it, representing it? it will not otherwise be known! let this thought alone drive you forward in your quest!

creative process

the mad scientist in me and you (creative process)

mad scientist I don’t know about you but only in silence can I break away from routine and find my way back to her, the mad scientist in me. Ya, once I find her all bets may be off, she may decide to pump some Iggy Pop or Nine Inch Nails into my bloodstream with all the coffee. Here in my laboratory — aka my apartment —  playing with the soft membrane between you and me in my mind. Going off somewhere unusual and yet somehow self-validating. The unitive awaits us, the collective mind, where we may connect from any distance. It’s extrasensory. My head is buzzing by Alice Munro’s  Carried Away. I let the kittens outside for the night. They will be cold but they want to go. I am denying the urge to go off with salts and butters on a plate of broiled veggies and shrimp. Other tenants in the building are bumping into our shared walls, makes me feel safer. Me and you, we really need to break the routine for a hot second. Let the atmosphere in my kitchen become remarkable all of a sudden. Only because I am paying extra attention. Super cool and clear with vinyl floors, flourescent overheads, a giant green chair, a laminate wood table. Much different from the feel of the carpeted living room with cathedral ceiling. I can breathe into the silence and feel the softness of the inside of my baby blue dollar store slippers. I can follow the whisping whirr of the ceiling fan. The lovely chime of the Tibetan bell tongue, rocking against itself. Why fear my mad scientist when I love her so? She is raison d’etre like no other! Out of her comes strange stories like Maze and Grand Theft Life. Maybe that’s what terrifies me? Stories of my life but not exactly memoirs. Call it creative nonfiction. Or don’t call it anything at all. Just what comes out of the silence with me. Alluring and luring us to a feast of re creation. Thank god I have my laboratory. Thank god I have my routine to break. Thank god I have my health. Thank god for Alice Munro. Thank god for you. Thank god for books. Thank god for the mad scientist in me — and in you. Let’s all let ourselves get carried away by our experiments tonight. This is true living!

distribute yourself. aromatic of the locale. unalterable you.

A post i wrote about coffee roasting, art and cult of personality… http://www.katyamills.com/2015/08/distribute-yourself-aromatic-of-locale.html

acrylic. fifteen

acrylic made 4 good makeup
girl when hung on a wall
and bludgeoned by praises

– K ❤

y.9

you make them uncomfortable

every genuine creative force

does

come on. december

Oh happy bedraggled

holy days

of three-legged canines

a-hopping behind

humans

Small yet mighty

effort in the rain

We broke the yolk

on eggnog lattes

the last day

of November

Broke the bank

of well-wishes

one day shy of dear

December

Come on, December

come on, now make me cry

you sure aren’t what you once were

when i was a child

And you. And you. And you

may you have

what i have not

Simple ordinary days

i share with you

leftover turkey in

the pot

Happiness? abundance?

I really hope they are!

If it helps

i can sing some xmas songs

on my guitar

For those left in the margins

i will turn it up a notch

awash in lonely visions

drowned in single malt

scotch

it is you whom i believe in!

my extra-ordinary bees!

it is to you my prayers go out while

down

upon my knees

Keep busy pushing visions

upon the streets tonight!

keep faith. keep faith. keep faith

everything comes out the wash

all right

I will be beside you

making colors!

out my mind!

With faith

we face the void

together

Though apart…

you are always

in my heart