Shrink
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42 creative works found
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I found this last night looking through my travel journal, I drew it whilst waiting with baited breath for the clothes to finish their cycle in a London Laundromat. Accompanied by part of the journal entry… ‘Omg I’m using a laundromat for the first time ever! After spending 5 minutes trying to put my 1 pound coin into the machine, I finally realised it was asking for 3×1 pound coins all at once ( which of course I didnt have on me) When I finally got the coins going a block of soap appeared from nowhere, unsure of what to do with the soap I stick it in with the clothes. / 45 minutes of watching my clothes spin round passed. They come out all sticky, with my luck Im allergic to the detergent. I then transfered the clothes to the dryer. nb. dryer does not dry clothes as such, juts shrinks them. My new dress is now a tshirt.” Still, its funny I wouldnt change that expreience for anything, this was my favourite sketch from the whole trip!
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Beautiful multi-colored violet
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surfers paradise. mini edition. part two of the queensland duo:
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surfers paradise. mini edition. first part of the gold coast duo:
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I love(d) the movie “Honey I shrunk the Kids.” I loved the shrink ray in the movie and I remember building one out of a t-ball stand and old computer parts and wire my dad had in the garage. I decided to model and render a more modernized version of the good old shrink ray. Modeled in Maya 8.5 / Rendered in Maxwell Render
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Model Alison feeling like she is shrinking the walls are caving in what should she do?
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Has a child I often would end up stuck in some silly places / but I never expected it could still happen today / that magic set goes straight back to the shop tomorrow! / Now I can remember the words that got me in here / “Shrinkustofitusmiheadusinkettlelustus!” If only I can remember the words for… / Oh rats / anybody / HELP!!!!
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Featuring former Australian Prime Minister (and right wing extremist), John Howard, this is part of the ‘Yesterday’s News’ series that takes media images of celebrities and screws with them to make funny, creative, sometimes disturbing images. They are all original high-res artworks that are sure to solicit a response (whether you’re a fan or detractor).
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Not sure who this was originally but clearly had a fine head of hair.
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Any real Mac user will appreciate this classic design. Beware of imitations.
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Thanks, Laurie, for the help with the title – you’re the best! dazzle-stock.deviantart.com / dreamstime
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The Poor Storm stooper has fallen to pieces whilst working on the death start…he just couldnt hack it , poor thing
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Halloween is less than a month away! Time for some magic. First, shrink the cat and the pumpkin! (Both are folded from 15×15mm pieces of paper) Taken with an Olympus FE-340 today (October 13,2009) on the super macro setting (hence the blurriness of my hand) / / / / Also available at Zazzle / / / For a better idea of scale: / / / My fingernail is a piece of masking tape :P / / / / Works by Category / / Origami / Drawings,Paintings and Graphics / Abstract Photography / Guessing Games Flowers, Trees and Plants / Water and Waterscapes / Scenery/Skyscapes / Light, Shadow, and Reflections / Still Life Living Creatures / Human Portrait Japanfluence / Canada / Europe / / /
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Alice tried very hard to get back to her actual size. / ink, ink pens, watercolour, collage, gesso on Arches Smooth 185gsm. The collage bit is own original poppy painting.
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Well yes it is Alice again, redrawn in the shrinking scene, with added feet and sepia edges, I’ll just redraw until she seems about right. ink, ink, ink, watercolour, gesso, ink pens and more ink (indian red calligraphy ink for dip pens) on very heavy cartridge paper.
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Rantrantrantrantrantrant... tarant! ;-)
by JenniferBIt’s weird, I go to these weekly Shrink appointments, not because I think I need them, but because my medical insurance wont cover my mor…
It’s weird, I go to these weekly Shrink appointments, not because I think I need them, but because my medical insurance wont cover my mortgage payments if I don’t attend and because I need my shrink to sign off the forms, so no, I’m not crazy… leastwise I don’t think so??? / / Well usually I think the meetings are bullshit, I talk, he listens, he asks questions, I tell him what he wants to hear, sometimes I add in a little something for ‘shock factor’, cos I like to guage his reaction. It’s bullshit, a cat and mouse game, something to break the monotony of a boring week and get me out of the house. / / Ever since my breakdown 2 years ago, I’ve hated leaving the house. I worry about finding myself standing in the middle of a busy, main road like a ghost again, unaware of my surroundings and of what could happen to me, I call it a subconscious suicide, where your body kind of takes over and your mind leaves it… I always thought suicide was the most selfish of fucking acts, but ever since that day, a few days before they put me in the psyche unit, I understand the depths of it so much better. / / People don’t mean to leave you when they commit suicide, they don’t mean to be selfish or leave everyone with the bullshit to make sense of and clean up afterwards… / / They just kind of leave themselves… The Mind doesn’t kick in and the body just drifts… / / It isn’t a conscious act, those who say ‘I’m going to kill myself’ – most probably wont… they just need lots of love and care. / / Because when it comes to that moment in time… There is NO Time… Reality just ceases to exist, as does consciousness, awareness, any real depth of thought or emotion for those people and experiences that have been left behind, it’s a hard feeling to describe… because it’s a ‘No Feeling’ a feeling of Nothingness. / / Anyway, believe it or not this is supposed to be a positive journal entry, one of hope and optimism! hahaha! I just time slipped into the past a little and deviated a bit there. / / Back to the present day and my shrink… / / I don’t think that he has ever said anything to me that’s been of benefit to me, all the bullshit self-affirmation stuff, confronting negative thoughts, coping with anxiety, blah blah blah… I studied at uni when I was doing a psyche course, and all of the crappy self evaluations I had to complete made me feel like I was back teaching again filling in bullshit forms for professional development. / / Crap, crap and more crap… / / But something I said to him made a difference… / / Something I realised in and about myself made a difference. / / It’s something I’ve thought for some time now, but have never heard myself actually say… It was like the Thought, suddenly became a realisation, and then gave birth to a reality. / / He stuttered… mumbled a little, looked obviously uncomfortable and out of his level of experience, when he said to me; / / “Look, do you need to talk to someone about your past sexual abuse from your Father, and the rape incident that happened to you later?” / / You see… My shrink is just a cognetive behaviour therapist, not a sexual abuse counsellor or anything like that, but he’d asked me to fill in some form about six months ago and one of the questions on it asked about past sexual trauma and abuse, I’d ticked the ‘Yes’ box, but said nothing. / / In that moment I felt kind of sorry for him, he looked so uncomfortable and unable to word what it was he had to asked. / / I realise, as a past teacher, that he’d had to pose the questions, it was part of his procedural and professional duty when a disclosure has been made, fuck I’d seen enough of those during my time as a teacher to know what is expected of you and how to deal with them. / / The words came out of my mouth almost automatically, as did the thoughts roll out of my head in the same way. / / “Fuck no”. I said to him, “Why would I want to go back there? All I’d be doing is keeping myself in a Victim Role.” / / He looked at me quizzically. / / “Look,” I said, “For years and years I bled all of my angst and torment out in shitty poetry and muses as a form of self therapy, and then one day I put down the pen and there was nothing more I could write, it was like a spirit within me was driving me to write the words, and they sucked me deeper and deeper into a vortex… Misery became my Muse and it kept be trapped in the past… Well Misery can now kiss my ass cos I’m moving forward…” / / It was at that point in time I realised that I was truly free from the past, that I’d been able to forgive every person who had ever done anything shitty to me and move forward, that I in fact, had unwittingly made myself an available victim at times too… / / It was also at that point in time I realised why I could no longer write. / / Writing had served it’s purpose. / / The script had finally ended. / / We go through shit in our lives, sometimes things happen that our beyond our control, but many times things happen that we have a choice over. / / I don’t ‘hate’ anyone who has treated me shitty. / / The guys who gang raped me when I was only 15, were drugged up, fucked up youths no older than my own son, in him I can see their self loathing and stupidity, like most perpetrators, they either hate themselves more than they ever could have hated me… Or they have gone beyond that… And have become walking zombies, empty shells, human beings with no souls. / / And my father is now an old man, weak, sick and frail, the things he did will haunt him forever, I can see that every time I look into his old, tormented eyes, yet as he nears his time of death… I want him to feel at peace. / / I hugged him a year ago. / / What he did was wrong, the sick thing is, when I became an adolescent, I enjoyed it, he was my father but he was also my lover, I harbored fantasies of marrying him… / No man I was to meet thereafter could ever compare with him, nor probably ever will. / / I can accept that and move on without bitterness or remorse. / / I hope he makes peace with himself before he dies. / / My mother confessed to having been raped by her own father two days before she died of cancer. / / I’d never known her to say anything even remotely humane to me in her life, but it made a lot of sense… So much made a lot of sense… Why she chose to turn a blind eye to my father’s behaviour, why she was jealous of the attention he’d been paying me. / / My only regret is that I walked out of the door of her hospital room and never looked back, never said goodbye, never told her that I forgave her… If there was one thing I would change in my life, it would be to go back to that moment in time and take her frail body in my arms, and tell ther that I forgave her, that I understood, and that everything was going to turn out okay now. / / She died alone. / / As she had lived most of her Life. / / My other regret in life will be to not meet the only man I’ve ever known in my life I believe truly loves me. / / The memory of that one meeting and moment, would have erased so many other painful ones, and replaced it with something precious. / / But sometimes things are just not meant to be. / / My Shrink broke the silence by saying to me, / / “I understand, it’s just something I had to ask you… Protocol and all that, I sometimes question the effectiveness of some Psychiatric interventions myself, I’ve seen functioning, forward-moving people in the psyche wards regress considerably once they’ve been asked to delve into their past traumas… They become trapped forever in the Past…” / / “Yep, I can relate to that, ” I told him / / “It’s a trap for sure…”. / / There comes a time when you have to leave it all behind, quit dwelling on it, and move forward. / / To where and into what I have no idea. / / But I guess life would be painfully boring if I did. / / Normality to a past abuse victim can seem stiflingly boring, it’s like a junky who’s reality has become a euphoric haze of swirls and shapes, eventually normality seems flat and listless, like you’re already dead. / / Abuse victims get hooked on the drama, the adrenalin, physical and mental abuse become sick, twisted expressions of ‘control’ and love, unpredictability and fear hold you captive, you start off as a victim, and then become a hostage to it all, it’s kind of like that Stockholm Syndrome thing, the person who threatens your life is also the saviour of it. / / An abuse victim, like a junky, can’t be helped until they’ve hit rock bottom and are ready to help themselves. / / Until such a time, they will always return to their captor, to the drama and adrenalin rush that takes the flatness out of life and feeds them. / / Sometimes, like an addict, an abuse victim dies before that realisation can be made. / / That’s nobody else’s fault either. / / There’s no god nor human being can save them if they’re hell-bent on self destruction and choose not to save themselves. / / Even today, I have a man who loves me in his own way, who would lay his life down on the line for me, but still it isn’t enough. / / Normal love still seems flat and boring, and the adrenalin buzz and addiction of abuse keeps pulling me back, it’s a battle and an addiction that I will fight forever. / / Abuse victims can provoke a person to become abusive who ‘under healthy and normal loving conditions’, would never be that way. / / Because a craving for just a ‘tiny hit’ becomes too strong sometimes. / / I can recognise the signs in myself and stop myself from going that one step too far. / / I’m very self aware / / But I still tend to draw emotionally or physically abusive people to me / / It’s nor mystical, magical, spiritual, godly or universfuckingsal / / It’s just me, craving for something that I had once left behind. / / I have a choice and blame nobody for the choices I make but myself. / / Yep… Normality is flat. It’s boring. It’s safe and it sucks. / / I’ve gotta get ‘sane again’ and get a job. :) / / What a fucking rant. / / Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to read it all. / / I know I wouldn’t be fucked! ;)
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Need for Speed
by JenniferBI had a Mid-Life-Thelma-and-Louise sudden moment of madness. / / On my way to an appointment i turned onto a huge, stretch of non-reside…
I had a Mid-Life-Thelma-and-Louise sudden moment of madness. / / On my way to an appointment i turned onto a huge, stretch of non-residential open road. The road is cut into a long deep, beautiful valley surrounded by orchards and bush. / / I pulled over, took the roof off my little ole Nissan Targa, and put my foot down hard on the pedal to the metal. / / Such a sense of freedom when cruising along with the wind in your face at high speed! / / But for all of my ‘eyelash fluttering’, ‘cleavage showing’, ‘leg flashing’ flirtatiousness, and my full on feminine “But Officer… I just had a need for speed, wind in my face, kind of moment…” it didn’t get me off a $239 buck speeding ticket. / / It did, however, get me off an additional fine for not wearing a seatbelt, so I guess half is better than nothing at all. / / But this was soooooooooooooooooooooo not how it plays out in the movies! / / What I found even more surprising is that I really didn’t give a flying fuck, that five minutes, full-on feeling of freedom was worth every dollar of the fine! / / Hold fire for mid-life crisis number 2!!! ;-) / * / / So I walked into my mid-month review feeling somewhat invincible. I was having one of my ‘Fuck everything I can take on the World’ days… Where nothing phased me at all and anything was possible. / / My psychiatrist and psychologist were sitting in their comfortable padded seats waiting to assess me. / / “So… ” queried the psychiatrist, how have you been feeling? / / “Oh, some days are really great”, I explained, “On the good days I feel invincible, like I can achieve anything, I get stuff finished, look for jobs online, visualise myself working again, achieving… I feel like the ‘Old Me’ used to feel…” / / “And on the not so good days?” She asked, writing some shit down on her notepad studying me carefully. / / “Oh… Well on those days I feel like the earth has been pulled out from under me, like the positive day I had was all an illusion, that I was grasping for something that I’ll never be able to do or have…” / / “And why do you think that is?” She asked me / / “I don’t know? Maybe my meds need a bit of tweaking? To extend the ‘good days’ feeling?” (translated to mean, give me some more fucking meds!!!) / / She came up with some long-winded explanation of how, the way I was feeling, was a normal process of recovery, and she drew these shitty little curves on a piece of paper to show the highs and lows of my mood, explaining that because it had been a long time since I had been ‘myself’ again, I was trying to get too much done on the ‘good days’ and expecting far too much of myself. / / I didn’t mind her saying that and knew that she was probably right, but I wanted the ‘good days’ to continue forever, because there seemed no point in feeling motivated to go back to work one day, and then throwing it all in the next… I wanted to feel like myself again every day – and right NOW! / / So I didn’t want her explanations or shitty curved graph drawings of my moods, I wanted MORE pills!!! / / “So what kind of day are you having today?” She asked me / / “Oh… A ‘good’ day” I explained, “I went over my C.V. checked over a couple of jobs I want to apply for…” / / At that point in time she cut me off, and attempted to assume the role of “pyschologist’... / / “Apply for a job? You mean a full time job?” / / “Yep,” I said cheerfully, “I want to feel worthwhile again, be productive, specialise in the area of teaching, maybe even work with technology…” / / “But Jennifer,” she explained, “In all likelihood at this point in time you’re probably setting yourself up for failure and a crash… How about you just do something part time, that’s voluntary?” / / I only registered what she’d told me up to the words, ‘Setting yourself up for a failure…’ and then I kind of self-detonated and exploded. / / “What kind of bullshit is that?” I asked her? I could see my psychologist brace himself, he’d kind of flinched at her words too, “That’s just like me telling a child not to sit a test at school because they’re just going to fail!!!” I exploded, “Fuck, I don’t need to hear you bring me down! What the hell would you know about what I can or can’t achieve???” / / It was a momentary outburst, over and regretted as soon as it was said, it’s just that I felt so sick and tired of people treating me like a retard telling me what I could or couldn’t do, even my fiance was wanting me to stay home for the rest of my life, and I just wanted to break the fuck free and be someone worthwhile again. / / Almost instantaneously I cooled down and realised that she really had intended to be helpful and was just concerned for me, I found myself smiling feeling kind of amused about it all and I apologised, all the time thinking, well that’s just great…. now they’re going to cart me off to the loony bin again. / / “I think what Jennifer’s trying to say, ” my psychologist interjected, with a glint in his eye and a small smile on his face, “Is that she’s frustrated with her lack of progress… But in saying that, even from today’s session, I can see that she’s made a lot of progress…” / / He was right. / / A few short months ago I’d been a flat, unresponsive, unemotional zombie. / / At least I was getting some of my feistiness and zest for life back again. / / So it felt encouraging to get ‘glimpses’ of me. / / “Jennifer’s still feeling very sensitive and volatile due to the trauma she went through just over a year ago…” My psychologist continued, “I hope to get her to join groups, interact with people, learn how to socialise again.” / / The psychiatrist looked at me again, like I was some kind of strange, foreign specimen under a microscope. / / “What I intended to say…” she explained, “Is that maybe you’re driving yourself too hard and fast?” / / And then I found myself laughing like a real loon… She looked at me quizzically wondering what she’d said to ellicit such a response from me, I reached deep into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled speeding ticket I’d got on the way there. / / “No….” I smiled, “THIS is driving myself too hard and fast.” / / I straightened the ticket out and left it on her table. / / Session over. / / Time to go home. / / xox
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