Andrilisa Read-Iglesias Lopes
Just an artist painting dreams with words...
Letters To Exes Past And Myself, Finished With A Letter From My Husband
From the diary under my bed. In chronological order from 2015… Dear Saddest Violin Playing The Saddest Song, Ordinary thinkers are trapped by their inability to forgive. Extraordinary thinkers are constantly renewed and released by forgiveness. All freedom begins in forgiveness. All forgiveness begins in the mirror. Our time on this earth is too short. Our Universe is large. I refuse to waste my opportunity with anger and victimhood. Nothing cleanses like forgiving. Nothing releases like forgetting.
The Artist's Cat-prentice
It was during the summer of 2018 that I realized my cat, Imo, was an artist like me. I recall there was an artsy connection between us when I first saw his picture prior to adopting him- I was instantly drawn to his white fur, his blue eye, and his gold eye. He was a work of art: a khao manee exotic cat. Still, I was surprised when that June, as I began a large acrylic painting for my job, Imo showed up for every single paint shift.
The Return Home To Art Through The Portraits I Made Over The Last 25 Years
A long, long time ago I dreamt of being an artist. Portrait 1, Pencil, 9 in. x 12 in. I learned from my dad, the artist and jeweler. He used to paint, draw and manipulate gold.
When I was five years old, I saw my dad drawing a cheat-cheat for the secret card matching game that appears in Super Mario Bros 3. Each chart he drew showed where the star, mushroom, flower, extra life, and coins were located, making it that much easier to win the mini game with all the spoils. That is when I learned I wanted to draw.
A Collage of Cat Houses and Love
This all started when my husband and I discovered my cat’s box fetish. Last Halloween, we noticed that Imo, my youngest cat, had a thing for boxes all thanks to an empty cake box that accidentally fell on the floor. I recall hearing the box fall and before I could even get up to see where it was, Imo had already beat me to it and was stepping inside. I took a quick picture with my phone because I thought it was funny and went back to looking up ideas on how to transform my apartment into the mummy’s tomb. Hours went by and when I looked, Imo was still in the box.
Two months had passed since the search for a white kitten began. I’d had Suna, my black cat, for five years already and I thought it was time she have a cat companion to have adventures with. Also, as newlyweds, my husband and I felt adopting a cat was a way to expand our family without having children right away. However, the search for our new family member was not going so well. I had already reached out to four different posts on Petfinder.com, none resulting in adoption. Every time, there was an adoption application already in progress or the young furball had just been taken by new cat guardians. I felt like I was a step behind every time. I never thought finding an all-white cat would feel like the search for the Holy Grail. Why an all-white cat? My husband and I are firm believers in balance and maintaining everything in harmony. Since we already had a black cat, it only made sense to get a white cat. That and I could already see myself reliving my childhood, pretending to be Sailor Moon with Artemis and Luna lounging around.
The Dreamcatcher and The Wry
This wasn’t the first time Katalina Goldstein had found something on the subway. The most interesting find, a folder full of recommendation letters, belonged to a girl just starting the rat race. As she approached the seat at the far end, Katalina saw the item was a black notebook. To her surprise, it was brand new. The notebook pages had no lines. This could be the sketchbook Katalina needed, although she did already have four sitting at home gathering dust. The more she looked at it, the more she saw what a great find this was. Because it was so nice, she felt it would be disrespectful to throw it in her cheap backpack. She lifted her bubble coat and tucked the black notebook inside the waistband of her sweatpants.