NU SHUZ from Grace Yang on Vimeo.

yayayayay

I hope you watch it anyway. The mood matches the clouds. And the political atmosphere.

Nothingness from grace yang on Vimeo.

If you have a chance, please check out Delia Derbyshire’s work “Dreams”– so interesting.

Graceee

People assume that I’m scrambling around to be prepared, but I’m not. I’ve committed a number of uncooleries: rewatching some Harry Potter movies, re visiting him on the Science Center Imax…! gorging on bags of chips at 2 in the morning… basically, being as lazy as possible until I have to move my ass. Although I must say I’ve had some strange creative productions in this time– so at least I have something to show for these past few.

I should correct myself: I *feel* like I’m being lazy because I’m enjoying myself so much. Rather, I haven’t stopped pumping out projects/pieces, so let me redeem myself.

If you haven’t noticed already, I have a weird thing about drawing faces. I love drawing faces. They’re all so different, and unique… but still quite difficult to capture because of the minute muscles and nuanced lines of tension within a face… eyes are also a favorite just because they’re pretty easy to draw, but the detail is what makes them pop as qualite. This one was fun; I drew huge eyes for the heck of it, and couldn’t figure out what to do so I ended up attempting to illustrate geometric galaxies.

The next piece was actually pretty spontaneous as well. I think I was on HP 4 when I started this, so I was feeling pretty…ah… grim.

For Miz Skull, I like drawing skulls. It’s morbidly comfortable. And naturally, the turban blossomed on top of her dead head.

The last one was really fun to drewdle, because … i …. love narwhals. Unicorns are too weird to like nowadays (after Charlie and Robot Chicken’s Apocalypse Pony…) so I’ve displaced my love for fantasy unto the most mysterious water-mammal.

aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap.

Graceee

Like hell I’m in shape! Gotta do some serious healing yoga before I hit the bed, or I’ll never get up tomorrow.

Anyway, some new artz! what I’ve been doing lately, aside from dreaming of foley-ing or being a music video director.

Watermelon Spitters was a concept done by request; friend Dan was releasing an EP and requested an album cover. It was a weird, fun illustration– the kitschy hand prints were supposed to echo watermelon juice, and I just sorta went with whatever the pencil wanted to do.

This was based on a photograph taken on the fourth of July a year and a half ago; we were on the Oregon coast, with the fog shrouding the beach, and all the pictures turned out really well because of how reflective the air was. It was a fun time, we had a dangerously front-row seat for the fireworks show…

… and Mr. T-Rex goes to the zoo was just a whimsy thing of everything I like: zoos, balloons, ice cream, t-rexs, and… texture. Listened to a lot of The Apprentice while I was drawing this one, and the quality of the show almost raises itself if you don’t watch it. Start to notice more soundtrack action, dramatic gongs, and audio cuts.

Send me some inspiration!

or check out more at http://gracie.imagekind.com

Anyway, ALL THAT IS ME: I save my old school I.D’s; totally worth the personal discomfort and squeamish memories of … the past. Which is why I have to post it. Embrace myself, acceptance is the first step… sometimes, you just have to pretend that you have a great personality to compensate for the obvious lack of self-awareness.

All lies. There are sad fantasy novels written all over my faces.

I don’t think 2003-2004 was a great year for me. I look like a butt with a face stuck on it.

Graceee

Is it truly so difficult to climb to the top?

Like cursive, college, and not smoking pot;

They got it all wrong. When I took my last step,

and breathed in the clouds, the wet air and yet–

it all seemed so easy, wandering through fog;

and at times so hard, like streets for a dog.

Two decades plus two, the 90′s repeating fresh,

Will Smith’s daughter? The young are such pests.

To swat them away like flies on dead meat,

but my own dead meat of the future I seek–

to conquer, be crowned, like a god on high cliffs–

again ascension, avoiding fatal trips.

Stumbles so subtle your confidence gleams, until it’s too late–

the path ain’t what it seems.

Graceee

My favorite? Probably Sultan. That was my second sketch I’ve done, so it’s not very good, but sentiment it has!. You should see my first sketch– I tried drawing a man’s face but he ended up looking like his mother drank smoked and did acid while he was in utero.

 And “Oh What A World” was based on Dave LaChapelle’s picture of a fat, nude woman under a glass dome in the middle of a cornfield.

And “Ink Stained”, based on a fashion photog from blog Jak n Jil. Drawing unfocused realities is very difficult. Will work on that.

“What” was fun to draw and color; detail-intensive, but it was nice because I didn’t really plan any part of the drawing. It sort of just formed itself– by the time I was done, I just didn’t get where I had come from.

Check the rest of them out HERE at my Imagekind gallery. It’s under the gallery “Drawn”. Hope I can add more soon!!!

Graceeee

Angst aside, to think of the place I *used* to live– well, it’s mind-blowing to ponder an alternate future if I had stayed. The western suburbs of the “Greater Chicago Area”: where the farmland stretches on, the corn is ten cents, and the only thing greater than finally getting a car so you could actually do something outside of the house is… well, God. If you think of the ultimate boredom of “white/American” normality, Wheaton/Glen Ellyn is it.

And I didn’t live there all my life; before that, I lived in Springfield, Illinois. You’d think, being the hometown of Abraham Lincoln, and the capital of the great state of Illinois would be more than it is. It’s not. I remember the tiny apartment in my very early years… it’s like a dream… the ugly carpet, the bunk beds, the small backyard. The fact that I would always shut my eyes and wish my mom would turn left, towards the supermarket and the mall, so I wouldn’t die of boredom at home… and I faintly remember the phase I went through where I celebrated the word “bastard” and sang it all over town (my parents had no idea what it meant). I remember Rachael, my doll that closed her eyes when you lay her down, and how infuriating she used to be because she was so blonde, blue-eyed, and helpless. Whatever, she was my best friend.

I’m getting carried away, though: the one legacy in Springfield in which I revel in is Mr. Eggroll.

via flickr plasticfootball

Mr. Eggroll is the Chinese take-out restaurant my dad and my uncle opened– they designed the building (my uncle’s an architect), built the building themselves, and ran the place. I remember the yellow booths, and my dad teetering on the tallest ladder while he painted a giant mural of– well, the female Buddha.

They used to sell fried pineapples. Those were my fave. And the dessert was jello that looked like the Italian flag, with red, white, and green layers. The sign “Mr. Eggroll” that decorates the top tier of the building is mirrored. Funnily enough, I don’t remember eating anything other than the fried pineapples and the jello because my mom never worked. The building is still there, and the inhabitants consider it slightly historical because of it’s unusual and iconic design (I coincidentally ran into people who grew up there at a hostel in New York City who told me this). Now, my dad is in Taipei, Taiwan, and he has quite the noodle shop. We ate there all summer; there are tons of noodle dishes– lo mein, chow mein, noodle soup, different kinds of noodle soup, different kinds of noodles… and fried rice, congee, as well as other regular side dishes.

Even at a meager 22, Illinois feels like another lifetime. Having snow in November feels like another lifetime. White Christmases, and the flat land under the huge flat sky… I’ll probably visit soon. Tina’s starting her M.B.A at UC there. I wish I could have a reason to visit Springfield again, but that past will probably stay behind me.

Graceee

I hesitate to see myself

In the world that appears before me

Where lunch breaks rule the social life

And suits are bought to adorn me

This is what I think I must do,

As I rewrite a resume—is it true?

Will my closet become a palette of grey?

Will 5 o’clock be the end of my day?

Would I be one to giggle and pose

For a man to come along and propose?

I think not, at first, for if it were so—

I would blindly let these questions go.

But “knowing thyself” is bullshit advice,

Change is change and it comes at a price.

Who knows what values stand up today,

If it were tomorrow, would I say

The same thing once again, for sure?

Who knows what histories could occur?

Have they who live in suburbs wished

A quiet life like that they own,

Where should and shant’s are clearly drawn,

Like the fences that separate green lawns,

Where busywork tends to the green green grass,

And spontaneity withers into the past?

Where responsibility and should’s trump their dreams,

Where weariness over petty things has dulled life’s gleam?

Will I be obsessed with money, come and go?

And values of stocks going to and fro?

Numbers on a screen, a wealth machine?

Is that what my life will come to mean?

And with those in thought, I dot my I’s

Adjust the margins, hold in my sighs,

Submit the few words that attempt to be who I am,

And secretly wish I don’t give a damn.

Graceee

The first time I play with the new pencils, my drawing is literally retarded:

Saucier:

I was in such a bad mood once that I started drawing everyone in the cafe as devils…

I drew a picture of me holding Sultan, the kitten I had for a month:

Playing with markers…

…and some doodles…

Graceee