Fresh out of the oven.

Remember the “About Julia” page? If you haven’t seen it, go check it out now. No excuses, just go. Now!


Ok, done?

Good. You’ve probably seen the images. The sketches, that is. I’m currently working on several things. You know, the usual, two novels, illustrations and paintings. The only result that I get from working on that many things at the same time is pretty much nothing. So I’ve decided to take it step by step. [Ooh baby, wanna get to you giiiiiirl, step by step, ooh baby, wanna get you in my wooooorld!]

Yes. So today was “paint a hot chick” day!

I did two! I’d say that was quite productive. The bone & band-aid lady that’s making all the bloody mess is my personal favorite – from today’s batch anyway! The orange-haired amazon is pretty hot too, but the “mummy” kicks it by far. That skull is just too damn cool. And I painted the thing, imagine my enthusiasm. Hah. I used watercolor and black ink, as usual. I’m sticking to this technique for a while.

Few actually know that my favorite artist is Luis Royo. He tends to inspire me. I’ve been drawing these ladies since I was sixteen – that is, since I first saw Royo’s artwork in an excellent album called “Secrets”. The guy is sick. Really sick. In a really good way. He’s basically an industrial designer who did illustrations for Penthouse and keeps painting these incredible beauties.

I’ve grown to implement my own style into my artwork, yet the female body remains my favorite subject – the perfect balance between lines and curves, in my humble artsy opinion.

If you’ve enjoyed what’s on the “About Julia” page, then you’ll probably enjoy these as well. Don’t forget that I’ve spent six years without touching a brush, so don’t judge, just enjoy. I have quite a distance to go until I reach my full potential. I’m not too rusty, either.


So I got to “thinking”.


And I figured something out.

It doesn’t really matter what happens around me, I’ll always be alone. It’ll always be me plus one, in a best case scenario.

It’s my head that I put on a pillow at night. It’s my stomach that I feed twice a day. Sometimes three times, if there’s an appetite. It’s my hair that I comb every morning and it’s my eye lashes that I cover with mascara before I walk out into the sunshine. It’s my body that I dress up with Sisley shirts and jeans and it’s my skin that I treat with soft body lotions and baby oil. It’s my spirit that I feed with coffee at nine a.m. and it’s my soul that I feed with deep love songs and wild guitar riffs. It’s my mind that I feed with books and movies and it’s my essence that I let out through my paintings and my written words.

There’s not enough ink in this world to describe every single sensation that travels through my veins at light speed with every breath that I take.

There’s no image beautiful enough to describe the things that go on in my head when I imagine love or a brand new adventure on my itinerary through life.

I know for sure that I am alone and that I will always be this way. I don’t trust the “soul mate” theory, it seems sketchy and I don’t think that nature and society can ever come up with such a creature, just for me. I’d have to be ridiculously selfish to raise such pretentions. There isn’t a person out there who can love as much as I can, who can relish in all the things that make me happy – not that there are that many, but the intensity is just beyond any decent description. There’s nobody out there who will think of surprising me with one single red rose, just because it’s Wednesday. Nobody will think of leaving me a note on my pillow in the morning, telling me that breakfast is ready and asking me about how many sugar cubes I want with my coffee. Nobody will take pictures of me while I watch my favorite movie or while I’m lying in my bed, headphones in my ears, listening to one of those songs that make my blood pump so fast that I need a moment to catch my breath. Nobody will think of asking me about how I imagine the perfect day for me. Nobody will ever take me for exactly who I am. Nobody will.

That doesn’t mean that I’ll be miserable. Oh no, not at all. But I’ll never be complete. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps I’ve still got a lot of things to learn and to do before I can redesign my search criteria for that so-called soul mate. But I’ll always be free. I’ll never be tied down to anything. I’m not built this way. I can’t wear a leash, I can’t pledge my life to someone else.

I change my mind so often. I go in opposite directions. I take each day in completely different ways. Things are not black and white for me, they’re not even in shades of grey. They’re colors, billions of colors. And if I try hard enough, I can be any of them. I can be pink today, yellow tomorrow and a very wild green on Sunday. Then Monday I’ll go as blue as the sky in a quiet morning of June. I’ll be beige on Christmas Eve and I’ll be golden and bright when I’ll shake his hand and say “Nice to meet you!”.

You know, we’re all the same, come to think of it. We’re all colors, we’re just not all ready to accept it. Not all of us take the time to check if we’re orange or blue today. I’ve had too much time on my hands, I’ll admit.

So as I got to thinking, I’ve come up with something.

I’ll continue to spread my wings and fly to wherever the wind sends me. I’ll touch him and I’ll relish in that one minute that I get to look at him freely, without being looked at. I’ll hide in my corner and write about my colors, about how I want my life to be. And when I’ll come out, I’ll face everything with my signature smile and I’ll go to bed remembering only the colors.

Soon enough I’ll have my own color code for every emotion that decides to bloom inside of me. I’ll let the colors ooze out of me and I hope to infect as many as possible with my million-color-rainbow. I want it all, good and bad. I want the smiles and I want the tears. I want the moon and the stars. I want the flames and the cold running water. I want the frowns and the bad attitudes. I want the chills and the laziness of a Saturday morning in bed.

I’ll take it all. I’ll live it all. And when I’ll paint my canvas, I’ll choose only my favorite shades. For what I will leave behind will be the most beautiful painting of them all – my puny yet extraordinary life.

Lift your head up and start living your dream. We don’t get second chances and time is certainly not going to wait for us until we make up our minds. Grab her hand and tell her you want her. Pull him by the sleeve and ask him out for a  cup of coffee. Take that step and dare to do something that your mind considers scandalous. If you fail, you will at least have to satisfaction of having tried.

But if you win, your victory will be most beautiful color on your life’s canvas.

I know it sounds artsy and romantic and motivational, but it’s only ONE way of looking at things. You can choose the path that most choose, and settle for white, black and maybe some grays. Or you can dare a little bit more and add some color into your life.

It’s your choice, as it is mine.

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