© Olivia Callender “RoseIGentrify” 2013

The burning eyes/ plague that working world/ Bukowski just did enough/ drinks, rent, write./ If I could last just as long/ let alone the apparition of success/ till I’m old enough to endure it./ 

Olivia Callender© “Children & Pizza” Brooklyn, NY, 2012

Stuck in one hell of a rut. Please oh Please let Ron move out so I can start a-fresh… sort of. 

© Olivia Callender “Invert All”

In her deepest of hearts, she thinks / it may be that existence wasn’t her goal / and that modern science thwarted her move / to right her mistake. / It was only a curiosity / that lasted a few months / and was lost before completion. 

©Olivia Callender “outside the gallery” winter 2012

I can’t hear out of the right side of my head. My friend came home and I made pancakes… he didn’t have any. I cuddled with miss mary and won at poker though I’m not sure how. days pass days pass days pass.

Olivia Callender© “Morgan’s Haircut”, Winter 2012

I never allow myself to get sick, like real sick. Like I don’t get really drunk. I just sort of stay tipsy… So I’m Tipsy Sick. Headache, soar throat, slight waives of nausea. I’m fully functional and can get myself home.

Olivia Callender© “outside the art show” 2013

Looking over some random files. I’d rather do that than work on things I have to… 

Olivia Callender © “Amityville” Long Island, 2012

The same color in the evening/ It is different against the whiter sky/ This burnt orange darkens/ against the pail blue/ lightens against the dark cerulean. /

Color, relative always.

Olivia Callender © “Street Fashion”, Brooklyn, NY, 2012

Olivia Callender © “street fashion” Brooklyn, NY, 2012

Olivia Callender © 

My brain is just a smattering of electrified tissue and it hurts. 

artsorbit:

I got some hate mail this week. Most of it landed in my spam folder, thankfully, but a few ended in my inbox. I didn’t read every e-mails in full—just the first sentence, or long enough to realize what kind of correspondence it was. These tirades, calling for me to kill myself, or saying that I was a whore or whatever, came from a certain group of white supremacists who were angered by my column last week saying they were irrelevant.

Loved this little essay. I applaud her for such a brave and honest look at herself and the question of racism in general. We have not moved beyond Racists but it is definitely time to look a little deeper at the uncomfortable subject of unintended racism. That I think in the long run is what keeps us from transcending. 

Yay for conscious Caucasians!

Olivia Callender © Portrait Series, Parker Circa 2012

Finding the time is what really is important / I thought the day was for myself / Which one is it? / Time is a figment or there is only the passing of time? / Can I relax yet? / Answer: No.

“Street fashion”, November 2012, Olivia Callender ©

I’m always apprehensive about writing personal information on this blog for multiple reasons. My father’s paranoia (He once scolded me for sharing health issues for fear of insurance men reading and taking advantage of it)… Caribbean ethics of ‘don’t talk about family business’, and general weariness, but what is a blog if not a personal dairy.

My mother lost her job today. She’s in her 50s having to hit the pavement, with numerous bills, debts and a neck and back injury, which she has to receive treatment for.

 My mother worked in fashion as a fabric sourcer. For those who don’t know, fabric sourcing is imperative creating the designers ideas for a new line. My mother is good at her job. She knows about fabrics, she’s a classically trained textile artist for christ sake. Who could know more about fabric sourcing than a woman who knows the intricacies of making it? Most designers don’t know jack all about fabrics and when they want to make a structured coat out of linen, who tells them it won’t work, my mother.

I just can’t believe that a person with so much work experience would be tossed aside. I know it’s the difficulties of our times and her position had three people in it but, I don’t know, she’s always been so devoted to her work. She needed a fucking alarm to tell her when to leave damn it! 

Now in the end I’m sure she’ll get another job and I won’t have to throw into the collective pot. I was down to, told her how much I got in the bank, and I would because lord knows like most American children I am massively spoiled and should give back but the sad truth is I have debts to pay. So now it’s just a tightening of the belt, no healthcare for me. Thank goodness I never get sick and I got that other thing sorted to the best of my ability.

In the end really I’m just bummed for a woman who’s not meant to be idle. 

God save my brother who still lives at home…