I was raised with music. Lots of music. My mother is a musician, and a singer. She taught my brother and me piano. I didn't play much after I stopped taking lessons at 15, but I would break out my Tori Amos books, Broadway showtunes and movie themes once in a while.
My best friend in high school, Karla Perez Scarff, and I would listen to our favorites: Morrissey and The Smiths, Counting Crows, Sting and The Police, REM, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, The Cure, Michael Jackson, Bjork, U2 (who did I forget, Karla?) constantly. It seemed as if our lives had a soundtrack. Every song had a meaning, and they all crooned us through the ups and downs of high school.
I have new favorites now to add to the old list, and good friends who share obscure bands with me. It always seems like there's some kind of music playing in our house. Which I love.
So Richard Hull gave us an assignment on metaphor. He provided each of us with a phrase and we had to translate the metaphoric phrase into an image, utilizing line and fill.
My phrase: "Wine-maiden of the jazz-tuned night. . . " ~ The Midnight Dancer, Langston Hughes. I like music, and I like night. So I was excited to work on this assignment.
I was really pleased with it. Well as much as I could be since Painter 12 kept crashing and creating artifacts whenever I tried to turn the paper texture. I must have repainted certain parts about twenty times. I'm not kidding.
Richard didn't like the figure. Which was the part I was most proud of, considering I drew from imagination and then checked with reference. *sigh*