I need wall art. I have too many of my own pieces up, can’t afford other people’s work and my friends and family won’t draw for me. So I end up doing stuff like this to put up on my bare walls. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy collaging and decopatching as much as anyone’s grandma, but I just feel like I’m overdoing it a little. And yet again, I find myself hanging my own work up on the walls. At least I can pretend it’s not mine.
This lady is the decobitch. She’s a little robotic. And very emotionally and physically bloated. She can’t get up because she’s wearing too many layers and her thoughts and worries stifle her. Her chair is completely unergonomic but somehow comfortable (it cancels out the unnatural curves and anatomy of her clunky clothes). This woman is not happy. She can never be. And her summer is almost over.