Art is a process of immersion and re-emerging.
Where is nowhere? On the edge of sanity, where all the color and magic resides?
In my twenty plus years of writing and creating art, I have rarely collaborated with other creatives. I enjoy being a stand alone, independent creative. Experience had also taught me some harsh lessons in regard to collaberating.
Creating art for someone else's heart allows our own emotions to rest.
Art and photography therapy are great outlets for trauma survivors.
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 … Continue reading Ruins Of a Forgotten City
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
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
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 … Continue reading Collaborator No More
"Ghosts Of the Forest" / acrylic on 11x14 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, … Continue reading Ghosts Of the Forest
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 … Continue reading Streams of Consciousness