Loose feeling

Here are a few of those sexually hidden, discomfort drawings from my sketch book. I know that some of them ended up reading vertical, and I'm very uncomfortable that the drawings are in this composition. At least I'm aware of this speck of dust, I guess how the image reads compositional isn't something that I'm worrying about, since that seems so commercial and tasteful to who? Why does something in a sketch book have to become a visual piece of pie for everyone or you, it doesn't, we just assume that it has to be! Let's not make art dead tonight.

"it has to be human to feel like this way also"




"for the first time, we'll wrap around the empty image stained under his sheets into her mail box for a keepers memory."

this drawing is supposed to show the demand many couples, fake lovers, and sort of wanna be sad songs kind of people...etc, to echo the memory of encountering each other sexual for the first time. Also known as touched by the a virgin for the very first time. Well what a small particle way of letting that out. Yet again, this is only text, a visual image, and those words came from someone else's song.



Also for art history, my teacher was boring enough to get me to drool looking awake. I bet that was a site for the girls sitting on my opposite sides. But when she asked us to draw a self portrait with out looking at ourselves, I closed my eyes and thought of the drawing Jenny did of hers and pictured myself peeling boredom from my hands and then after that, she then asked to draw a future portrait of when we get older. My older version is me being crazy and happy about it, as well drawn with eyes closed blind contour. They are comical, it was a loose feeling to guess the shape of my face features and feel them draw on the paper without seeing. Enjoyable.

Sweet Smoky Milk

My lovely friend Owen Harris, had asked me to do his album art for his first album coming out. Even though I've gotten really busy with school work, I haven't come to the final product yet, but here is the idea for Sweet Smokey Milk.





as for the type, of the title, it's very elongated, and settle to balance, the crazy character the actual image of the album is. My goal is to finish sweet smoky milk this weekend.

Also, one of my installations for conceptual practices will be posted really really soon.

pretend that nothing ever happened

Last semester, my sketches never were meant to say a hidden discomfort towards anything doing with sex. Not, that I mind erotic imagery, and boobs to penis drawings or photographs, it's just my ideal past (used to be recent) sheltered lifestyle, never allowed sexual talk to be normal. Is it normal though that anything having to do with desires, and lust, and extreme needs? I'm not sure, dealing with a sex driven culture, feed with every communication device we use, has me do drawings, that odd and uncomfortable, or simply vulgar.

I'm trying to use my discomfort with the extreme sex-desires that my youthful surroundings expose, and combine it with my obsession of our dependence's with our hands. They allow us to do much, and yes I know, its a duh statement. I'm trying to think, and its hard since I'm caving into read a book, rather than drawing something. So I'm leading in this direction for now.

Intent to share

I'm basically starting this blogspot, with the intent to be more sharing of my artwork and attached thoughts. It's such a privleage to beable to share through a speechless, untouchable, cummicating network. This blog takes away all interactions with each other and leaving it with only imagery. Isn't that what text is, just an image for visual understanding, all this, is me writing some encountered thoughts. What a prize my brain has to have this key rthymic types on my computer avaliable for my fingers to record censored sarah valdez thoughts. Dosen't it suck to know that my thoughts are censored, by me, for you're safety and my embrasesment? Maybe it's not you're safety, maybe its nothing, because everything really is nothing that came from everything! And that has no origin, or defintion, because right now I'm a creator, and its painful, because everything I grew up to know, love, hate, accept, touch, taste, see... etc, is shifting, changing, and recollecting, to gather up and become something past in my memory and your's. I feel like calling myself an artist right now, would be false, since my goal is to get there, but now I'm a creator of thoughts to hopefuly seam with 'art', for the needs and wants, but hopefully the intrested experiencing to hate or love my artwork.