Okay, so. I fucking hate this painting. I hate it so much I don’t even want to give it a name.

Why then, Aries, are you showing it to the world? I hear you ask. And rightly so. The answer is this; cause I fucking hate it, that’s why.

And I think I’m owning the fact that I hate it y’know?? That probably doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it very well, but okay.

Serious, this painting evokes a certain kind of sadness in me. Like everything, it was originally something else. I got frustrated, though, with the form the original was taking, and I got drunk.

Patience has never been a strong point of mine. Controlling my emotions is difficult for me (I’m an Aries after all).

So, when I came home from my 19th birthday party, a little worse for wear, and I saw the painting waiting for me? I lost my shit (at this point, I literally was so blind I couldn’t take off my shoes) and this monstrosity was born. I mean, do I also hate it because it reminds me of a friendship that no longer exists? Sure.

Another story for a different day though.


Fuck it.

Let’s tell that story now.

I was 18, he was 29. A bartender. He got my WW2 jokes. He was pretty fucked up. We matched well. I told him I had a boyfriend, and he was all like, no that’s fine, I just wanna be friends with you.

Charismatic bastard.

Then he got a girlfriend who didn’t like me (but didn’t tell me she didn’t like me) and verbally abused me one night when he was really high, and yeah. That was the end of that I couldn’t help but feeling, used almost? I dont know. I’m probably not explaining it well. It’s just, in my mind, I gave him the opportunity to cut all ties with me before we developed a real friendship but he insisted.

Moral of the story? Stay away from older men, kids.

You think they’re more emotionally mature than the dickhead teenage boys you hang around, until they snort Coke off their phones and stop replying.

On that cheery not.

Lots of love,

– Aries.

(Ps, the painting is of a sunset during burn off season)


The Clouds Over Narnia.

Ohhhhh this painting.

My first foray into the world of oil paints (which all of my paintings are) started with a conversation between my ex and I.

The first thing you need to know about my ex? I’m terrified of him. Quite literally. It’s funny, the reaction the mention of his name has on me. I start laughing, uncontrollably. I get the shakes. And when he’s actually in my presence? I am likely to say yes to anything. Me saying yes to things, makes him happy. Because if he’s happy, it means he’s not angry.

Oh,young love. It sure does have a lasting impact.

Anyway, enough about that. Back to my first oil painting. I had previously been messing around with acrylics, but found it was hard to cover paintings over and over with acrylics (in truth, underneath all of my finished oil paintings, there’s about 4 acrylics).

I messaged my ex, because he’s also an artist (am I an artist? What qualifies as an artist? Someone please let me know) and asked him how to create with oils.

Maybe we’ll go into why I keep messaging that boy later, but for now I think we should stick to the painting. My ex said to me, “paint what you like. It’s easier that way.”

And I did. I looked out my bedroom window, and I remember vividly my parents fighting in the background, and then glanced around my room and thought fuck, what do I like? I cannot think of one thing I fucking like.

I laid on my bedroom floor, and upside down, I saw the heavy, black and grey storm clouds hanging over my town. Now, I’ve always been a head-in-the-clouds type of gal. Always dreaming of leaving my small hometown, whether that be through becoming a rich and famous singer, a spy, or a stripper, I was impartial to.

As a kid, I painted the stars and taped them to my ceiling (Mum lost her shit over that, something about ruining her house) and stared at them every night before I went to bed. Let’s not even mention the trashy Monet rip offs I used to stick on my walls.

So, yeah. Clouds seemed like a pretty safe bet.

I showed my grandma after I finished (in about twenty minutes). She, who has a artist for a husband, glanced at it with fear and trepidation and said, “that’s nice dear.”

Lots of love,

– Aries.

The Sunset Above 7 Tulane.


So fun fact about this bad boy right here; there’s, what I would guess to be about, five other paintings beneath it.

My friend bought me the original canvas for my 16th birthday (I’m now 19, dangerously close to 20, with no life direction, but that’s a story for another blog post).

I remember being physically scared to touch it. I didn’t want to paint something on it that was terrible (my family couldn’t afford to buy me new canvases or other art supplies). Then, after almost a year of it sitting in the corner of my room, I painted on it. And Christ, it was terrible.

One of the five original paintings that sticks in my memory, was of a girl. It was an image I think I actually stole from someone’s Tumblr blog. It was right in the middle of my teen, angst riddled phase, so you can probably visualize what it looked like.

Funnily enough, the mess that was that painting, low key reflected my life at that point. I was a bit of a mess myself, engaging in real harmful behaviours to not only myself, but those around me as well.

I thought it’d be fitting to start with this painting, because next week I’m covering up self harm scars with a tattoo, and long before I even thought to do that, I covered up a painting I couldn’t bring myself to look at anymore. I covered the sad, crying girl, with the sunset above my best friends house.

So, in part, this is a dedication to the girl that used to live at 7 Tulane, and all the sunsets we watched from her backyard.

Lots of love,

– Aries.

The start.

So I’ve just gotten home from a real shit day at Uni, listening to everyone’s horrible opinions on everything from Trump to The Maltese Falcon.

Three assignments have piled themselves up, all due on Monday – and I thought to myself, how can I torture myself even more? How can I, a sadistic teenager, make myself really hurt? The answer, of course, is procrastination.

I’m so desperate for a way to procrastinate from my responsibilities, I have made a blog. I can’t even paint. But here I am, and here it is. The fruit of my sadistic procrastination.

Sorry in advance. Stay tuned for some art.

Lots of love,

– Aries.