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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A Progression From the 50’s to the 70’s

“A Progression from the 50’s to the 70’s” – an interactive, mixed media piece created to donate for a fundraising raffle. The base represents the ritualistic use of the checkered floor / secret mind control societies / using sex and pinups to sell product / starting wars while the people scream for peace / dropping bombs like confetti 

 

A Startling Recovery

Yesterday while heading home from an appointment, my head was swirling. Things are changing in my life so quickly, and not all of it is “bad”, per say. It’s just that change in general takes some time for me to balance into.

I’m a planner.
I like lists.
I need schedules and reminders.

These changes happening are not allowing for any of that. I am forced into a space of waiting things out without any surety of what the future holds.

Back to yesterday. Moderate freak out. My mind went into victim mentality immediately. Shut down. It sounds something like this:

“Fuck it. I am exhausted. My emotional body can’t take another blow or another surfing wave.”. and on and on letting myself just feel the emotion of it all.

Then I spiraled down into thoughts of why really, I’ve pretty much accomplished what I’ve come to do. “I’ll be famous when I’m dead.” grandious kind of thoughts.

Critical thinking (I call her Knowing) stepped in. She whispered in my left ear as she always does.

“Come on, Ven. Gratitude.”

And so it was that I found myself verbally, out loud, listing all of the things and people I am blessed to have in my life.

By the time I arrived home, my emotions had made a startlingly quick recovery.

I ended up soending the evening finishing posts to submit as a guest blogger for two blogs. AND I worked on a painting that I have not touched in over a year.

I believe in two parts of therapy with fervor:

Gratitude
Creativity

Today I woke up feeling charged and focused, knowing that the next couple of months will be a great emerging; morphing more into my future.

http://venniekocsis.com
“Cult Child” – the novel
“Becoming Gratitude” – the journal
“Dusted Shelves” – the poetry

Sea Angel

This video of “Sea Angel” is an audio poem from my poetry book and accompanying spoken word cd, “Dusted Shelves”, which I published in 2011. This particular poem was written during a time when I was deeply depressed. I was in the cusp of writing out childhood trauma in “Cult Child”, my memoir. I listen to this piece now and what strikes me is that my suffering was so debilitating, the thought of being taken under by the sea felt like a comfort to me. Yet, life and hope have always called, and so the emotion became this piece instead. To those who suffer with depression, PTSD, anxiety and more, keep fighting. I remember you daily.

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.

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The Mermaid

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The Mermaid

They said they
Found her drowned
Below the galley
She had
Tried to
Scratch her way
Back to sea

And when they say
“Drowning”
They mean
“Breathing”

They say she
Was homesick
For the quiet
The way the water
Moved things slow
The way the starfish
Danced in the jellyfish glow

She couldn’t float
In this human world
Of capture and
Lack of concern
She could neither bear
The way they hurt
Nor wear the scars
Of so many broken hearts
The deceptions
The misconceptions
The ego and mayhem

Chained, she became
Irrelevant pieces
For the thirsty
Drank from
A well sucked dry
Until her eyes cried
Like a taste of her
Momentary decadence
Could make their pain die

What a farce they created
As her spirit was deflated
Her existence debated
In hookah lounges
By serious hounds

Without a care
They used
Abused
Created confusion
With their illusions
She floundered
Broken gills
She was left alone
To weep and feel

They say she looked
Peacefully asleep
The air moving curls
Once, she’d begged
Never to be
lain to rest in coffins
Or beneath earth
She couldn’t bear
To become dirt

They say they found her
Fingers bent and broken
From holding to the hoping
So long there was
A permanent curve
A bend of the wrist
Left from too much wishing

Still now in the silent dark
She bumps the bows
Reminders that you will
Fail at rowing her sea
And she sings songs
“Of the one who
Never owned me.”
Lilting tunes of bravery
For the Matadors
Who valiantly tried.

They say there rose a tide
The day she died
So powerful
New planets were birthed
As she returned to moon
Escaping earth

And now she watches
From a star beneath the sea
Where coral reefs
Glow geometric algae
She writes stories

Deep diving
She died a thousand
Human deaths
Returning into
Liquid lungs
She explores the depths

v.k poetry
©venniekocsis.com