-Jessie Yates- Artist Blog/Public Journal

[kenna1]

Despite having studied Fine Art at the Royal Academy of Art in London (alright…albeit a year), I always knew I didn't actually want to just paint for a living. As a hobby, of course, drawing, sketching and painting was something I adored and indulged in at every given opportunity, but not as a way of earning a livelihood. Practical to the point of boring, I've always known my limitations. Although I knew I was talented painter, I was also bored with the downright realistic and knew that I wanted the 'edge' or the fervour to be a successful artist.

From early childhood, I would carry a note pad, pencil or piece of charcoal with me wherever I went and would sketch everything from the waving grass in the local park to the goldfish in our garden pond. Every free moment was spent in various small art galleries and museums that had once been the sanctuary of my favourite painters. My obsession with modernism led me to a bit of an oddity in my family to the point that whenever my name was mention, people would look at me with a sigh of pity.

My parents were both lecturers in the dry, dusty subject of English, and just didn't understand where my artistic streak came from. They tried to discourage me saying that I needed to train so that I could get a 'proper job' for when I left school, but as my skill improved, they had to admit I was good and from then on, helped me achieve what I wanted. No. Instead at sixteen I get kicked out to fend for myself. And that was where art school came in. As I grew up, I continued to paint and draw at any given opportunity, and I didn't want to do it as anything other than a career. Despite wanting to study the subject at university, I knew I wanted something else as well, I didn't intend to be an impoverished, tortured artist, wallowing in paint and canvases whilst living on pot noodles and tap water. It was a pastime and pleasurable pursuit and something that allowed me to be even more insular and self-contained than usual, but overall it was an all-encompassing passion.

Watching my contemporaries producing utter crap out of toilet roll holders, toffee wrappers and used condoms, horrified me. My interests were firmly stuck in the new-wave, Modern paintings and sculpture. I loathed university and didn’t settle in quite easily and quickly. My personality meant that I was always in the foreground, loud and Dynamic. People were always surprised during exhibitions at the vivaciousness and boldness of my works and I got many complaints, but everyone remembered me, I was just "oh you know the one who wore the nearly nude slip and danced around the gallery preaching about inequality.

All that changed during my second term of study when we visited the conservation department of the National Gallery. That was it. In the blink of an eye watering, chemically induced epiphany, I found my calling and never looked back.

The second I saw the way that a dirty, nicotine and fire smoke encrusted painting was brought back to life using something as simple as lemon juice, a cocktail of chemicals and brushes and cloths, I was distraught. To make a painting so…boring was a dead sentence for me. Yes it was vibrant and seemingly perfect again, after being hidden away because of the lack of care and excesses of humanity, for centuries, took my breath away. But wasn’t there more to art than to just sit down and paint a stupid bowl of fruit. Why not use my voice to raise awareness about what I thought was terrible in the world? Art can be such a magical tool to help spread powerful messages that far went past pointless framed paintings of food.

This is what I wanted to do. This was my calling.

[kenna1]

It hurts like hell, you know, betrayal. Not like in those shitty sentimental movies where the main character - who is inevitably a massive prick - gets to say goodbye one last time to his girlfriend and they all cry and there's violins in the background and they say I Love You Dearest Darling at least seven times before the bastard finally gets a move on and, you know, moves on. If you listen closely, over the sound of your own uncontrollable crying, you can hear him saying something along the lines of, "It’s not you. It's me."
Bull.
Shit.
Maybe it's because I've only ever loved those why-did-he-have-to-go, he-was-so-young, what-a-tragic, terribly-painful-accident type break ups, but the broken heart twit from the chick flick is always wrong. Betrayal hurts like hell.
It's better if it's sudden, like it was the first time I got screwed over. An unexpected cut from the family tree - speared through the heart by Mommy and Daddy dearest - ah. That's the way to go. Just the feeling of falling - the knowing, for a split-second, that you are about to homeless - and then an instant of pain, and it's all gone. Beautiful. Poetic, even.
Now break ups by cheating, however, suck cock. Drunken revelations in an old run down hotel room - won't go into any details about that – gutted to see your girl with someone else - next thing I know, there's a nice long mourning period when people tell you what a heartless pig she was and you deserve better. Took two hours for me to be over the damn thing. Plenty of other fish in the sea right? Hell of a time, let me tell you.
Fuck, I make it seem so fine and dandy.
Anyway. Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much wine tonight at dinner tonight. Makes me get all weepy. Next time I’ll make it tequila! Now that’s a hell of a time there.

Good night my lovely followers!
Jessie <3

[kenna1]

Hello to all my lovely followers! I’m just about settled back in to Maple Hollow and I’ve got to say, I love my new place. Rent is decent, and the view is fantastic if you’re into mountains and such. Thought I’d share a few pictures of my new apartment and studio.

What do you think? I just about settled in and unpacked everything. Pretty decent eh?

My studio, conveniently located next door to me. (Don’t tell my landlord about the door I added between my two rent apartments!) It’s looking pretty clean now, but give me a few days and it will feel like home soon enough.

Me, being a ham like usual. First photo of me in my new digs. I’m going to have to work on the boring white room though…

Working on a new piece. I’ll give you all an insider scoop: it’s going to be an instillation piece. Sorry folks, no flash mob this time around, but you never know about the future

Much Love,
Jessie <3

[kenna1]

Throwback Thursday!

Guys, can we just talk about how young I am here? I'd like to know where that uniform is so I can burn it to the ground. This was right before Mum and Dad moved across the pond for their new job teaching in the states. I went to a private primary school (so fancy!) and my nanny would always wait for me on the other side of the school gates when the day was over. I wonder what she’s up to these days? Miss that woman to pieces. Anyway, school was always a bore for me. Look at me now though, about to start teaching in a few days. I need to try and tighten up my curriculum in the next few days, but you know me. Rules are meant to be broken so why even write my own? More importantly, I almost forgot my natural hair color. I’ll stick with black….

Youth is wasted on the Young!

[kenna1]

Starseeds
A poem by Jessie Yates

It had been a long day at the harem
Lillian washed her face and
smeared the lipstick
off of her
tender lips

It tasted like vanilla ice cream and peaches.
"How fancy" she thought
"I wish I could eat
a fruit made of the
most luscious
of starseeds"

It tasted like
golden light in my dreams.

Have you ever seen, done, or eaten
a banana?
Emphasis on eating.
Doing is just so sick and SO unzen.

Not much to get in those monasteries
You've probably never been a big fan of religion.
I can tell by the way you keep you Bible in the bathroom.

...What kind of fuck leaves a Bible in the bathroom?

Do you not have any respect for religion?
Ever since the advocate of the Wii controller,
why believe in a higher power? What's left to be discovered?
Except the world.

This is very dramatic.
Everyone, quick- eat only half of whatever you normally eat.

[kenna1]

Thoughts on Love (A three AM Ramble)

I will apologize now for falling in love with you. It hasn't happened yet, but it inevitably will. And this isn't particularly meant for a single person, or directed to a selective heart, but rather to be taken this as an early apology that I'm making on behalf of my heart. For I adore anyone who smiles at sunrises or people who drum their fingers against their car steering wheels to the music on the radio. I just can't help myself. I think after you see people at their most vulnerable, you can't help but fall in love with them.

Let me tuck that blanket of the sky around you your body as you lie on the cold mattress on the floor, curled in among the star's tears; let me eat up the planets into peaches with the moonlight dripping down our chins. Let me find you curled up on my side of the bed after I have been gone for months on end, traveling on my own. For spreading happiness shall be my occupations and let me kiss you after many hours of not.

[kenna1]

Jessie Yates Artist Statement for her pervious piece 'Beauty'
(Still on display at the Newburg Gallery)

Can you look outside with window with me? Take my hand and I'll open the blinds for you. Above the bright lights, can you tell me what that silvery orb in the sky is called? It's the moon. it's the exact opposite of the sun; it comes in the darkness of the night and can sometimes be seen in the brightness of the day. It is grasped by it's entire star offspring. We are all made of stars, of wonder, of the beginnings, until this moment when I received your message and asked you to help me understand that life is beautiful.

Now sit down with me at the bottom of my bed. Do you see all of the pictures of our planets on the ceiling of my bedroom? These is life out there; there is a world you can explore. You can be adventurous. There is a kindness, and love, and kisses, and warm cuddles, and good music, hot chocolate between cold hands, and peace after conflict, and football on abandoned fields, and apples to be eaten, and country villages to explore.

There is simplicity in the light that floods through your curtains in the mornings. There is love in the comfort of others-even strangers. I once smiled at a man on the way to the train station and he thanked me, and it felt a little sad all the way into the city. There is love in languages, in the beauty of understanding words in a script, that only a few weeks ago was so bizarre to you. There is a beauty in crossing stars.

There is so much beauty in every little atom. Physics and chemistry and astronomy make up your body, all of your molecules that make you, you. You are an accumulation of everything that can be wonderful and will be wonderful again. Do not let the negative thoughts in your head make you believe there is no goodness in this world, because it is everywhere. It's all around us. I promise you this. Just keep hanging on, and I am always here for you if you need to calm the storms in your head.