I have decided to return to blogger. I will link it to my site and start posting here once more.  I suppose I have been feeling restless and needed a change.

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Chapter One


























Chapter Two









Two images left in this chapter. Halfway to completion...

October is here, my favorite time of year (with the exception of summer, of course). Lately I have been reminiscing about my adolescence, who I was back then and what I took from those experiences. I saved many of my sketches between the ages of 17 and 18. The bulk of the images were primarily drawn during class, specifically Algebra II. Many of the sketches were also made during my year in public school (I attended Catholic high school). It was a troubling period in my life, filled with intense love and heartbreak, confusion and angst.

Design I, 1990. The main reason I wanted to attend public school was so I could wear the dresses that I designed and sewed (with the help of mom).



Design II, 1990.


No Where’s Place: The Children of God, 1990. When I entered public school, I was immediately recruited by a goth clique. This clique set the tone for goth fashion and attitude for the other would-be goths to emulate. On the weekends, we frequented a goth club called Visage. T, who would end up being my boyfriend for nearly five years, kept me tightly connected to the clique (at least during my year away from Catholic school), despite my desire to branch out and establish more meaningful and diverse friendships (which I eventually did). This sketch is about our clique.


Three Goth Girls, 1991.


Call Me Morbid, Call Me Pale, 1990. Title inspired by the lyrics of the song, Half a Person, by The Smiths.



Death, 1990.



Gothic: Gothicism, 1990. The poem excerpt that is cut off is by Oscar Wilde. It reads: “And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats, none knew so well as I, for he who lives more lives than one, more deaths than one must die.”


Gothic...The World Just Won’t Listen, 1990.


Gothic, 1990.


Goth Girl, 1990.



Tears, (with blotted lipstick) 1990.


Lonely, 1990.


Self Portrait for Theology Class, 1990.



Since Before Our Births, We Have Belonged to One Another, (Me & T), 1990. I found a poem I had written (1991) about our relationship:

Me & T

Me and T, as they all said,
The world reprimanded our exasperate breath.
We flew over cities bigger than Spain,
Cathedral haunting that made us insane.

This place was for us, T and me.
Tiny by sunlight, immense in dream.
Not one of us knew the last night we had
Our love and our kisses that people thought bad.

Me and T as they all said,
Ran from society, the fake lives they led.
We fell onto Russia, China and France,
We fell into a crevice, dementia with no glance.

They criticized our bond, “How evil!” They yelled.
For our self-deception we desperately held.
Me and T, as they all said,
Swallowed some pills, now we be dead.


Because my relationship with T was so tumultuous, break-ups and make-ups happened on a disturbingly regular basis. During our moments of break-up, I would date other boys to help pass the time (although I did fall in love with a couple of them)...

A & Me, 1991.



Chris 649-3188 written in lipstick beside my lips and in back of a goth sketch titled Lovers & Killers, 1991.



The Departed: A Tale of Two in Search of One, 1991. A comic sketch of S & me.



Everyday is Halloween, J & Me, 1990. Taken from a Ministry song with the same name.



Vampire with no arms (A.K.A. I’m Bleeding, Leave Me Alone!), 1990.



Still--Boring, 1990. Side two.



Death Angel, 1990.



I’m Really Fucken Trying!, 1990. I’m not sure what exactly I was trying...



Goth Girl on Insurance Memo Pad, 1991.



At 17 in my bedroom, just before I painted the walls black (left). At 18 with super short bangs during a family gathering (right).

As I prepare to enter the autumnal equinox, I am compelled to visually explore the dreams that I had during the vernal equinox. I have started to sketch and write out some of the scenarios. I am eager to set out on this project. Part of my driving force also stems from the fact that come November (a month I associate with serenity, hibernation and darkness) my body will finally give up from under me and collapse onto the bed for the duration of winter (or at least until February).

The equinox, as defined in my own lay terms, refers to the tilting of the earth in relation to the sun. This means that twice a year the day and night are of equal length. The vernal equinox occurs around the end of March (under the Aries sign which is when I was born), and the autumnal equinox around the end of September (under the Libra sign).

The dream series will come about slowly, since I have committed myself to the illustration book…

Please check out my new site, blog, and store www.jacquelinestuart.com. Although I am still working out the kinks (primarily the silly little favicon), it is up and running. I will post blogs from here on out at the new site. I will not, however, delete this blog page.
Thanks for following my work!
xoxo
J.S.

I'm downgrading my Flash site to a more practical website. Why? I've grown tired of actionscripting codes to the point where I haven't uploaded any new work onto my site as a result of it. Also, my new website will be equipped with a blog, so no more blogger. I will keep my old posts here, but from here on out, all my new blogs will be on my website.

I have been thinking about the people, places and things from my past that have defined me. People in particular who have inspired me in the past and people who will inspire me today and tomorrow are more pronounced than the places and things of my life. I wonder if it is even possible for me to position the secondary elements of my life (places and things) at the forefront of my cognition and visceral experiences. Is that even possible for me? Are people that important to me? Perhaps the more precise question to ask is: Why are people so important to me? Recently, I’ve toiled with the idea of painting naturalistic images of birds and plants, but in a design-like style. I had contemplated this in the very first entry of my blog, and just like then, I still wonder if I would betray myself as woman if I were to deviate from illustrating people, more specifically, women. Yet the very fact that I am struggling with this directional shift only tells me that perhaps it is time to move on. As I look around my den/studio, I am surrounded by trinkets, sketches, drawings, paintings and books about the female experience. I won’t solve this dilemma today, and most likely, I will not solve it tomorrow.