missysuedraws

[missysuedraws]

#art #illustration #illustrated #snake #cute illustration #illustrator #illustrative art #illustrations #Instagram

[missysuedraws]

Source: Liis Klammer photo - Karaski, Põlvamaa, Eesti. Estonia.

ℍ𝐚𝓵ｌ נ𝐀 𝔳คĻǤẸ  

[missysuedraws]

flourishandfawndesign 

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@pbcrosby

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The Original Be Wild and Wonder, by GoodCaptain & Co.

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Food for Worms, by GoodCaptain & Co.

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Books are amazing things. https://www.instagram.com/p/CqL4AoBOa5D/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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I’m really ready for Spring this year. 🌷 https://www.instagram.com/p/CpDpVCgOkAm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Morose Tee by GoodCaptain & Co.

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“Gpa at the Gate”, around 2008. From the Project; Roots and Rot | A Photo Curation of a Twisted Family Tree. ————— My grandpa, Platoon Sergeant Wayne E. Tuepker. My grandma flew to Berlin pregnant with my mom (from an affair) with the four siblings who had already been born to live with my grandpa while he was stationed there. My mom was born in Germany, making her a dual citizen and a product of infidelity, creating a chasm that would set her apart from the family (though nobody ever talked about it) and would cause a ripple effect of fathers unknown that would reverberate down to me. Though it was never confronted my entire childhood, my grandma would later solemnly imply guilt after I quietly asked as an adult by shaking her head and saying, “He’s your grandpa, he’s your mom’s father and that’s all that matters.” That was the most anyone had ever acknowledged it. But looking through old photos it’s clear that it was a choice to be willingly blind. My mother; pale, blonde and bird-like, is forever a sore thumb in old photos of the family, amid a sea of siblings who didn’t look like her. In high school I would end up cruising the same strip in Creve Couer park where many years before my grandma had met my mother’s biological father. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn73HAgOgGu/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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*Originally posted in 2019. My mom met my biological father while she was working the ticket booth at the Belleville, IL fairgrounds. This is him, five years before I was born on Jan. 10th, 1975. This will be a slightly uncomfortable subject for some of the people close to me. As a photographer and as a person I’ve reflected a lot about what I’m doing. Especially now that I’m approaching 40. Photo projects have always been one of my biggest inspirations and I’m wondering if it’s time to really push forward and go where it’s slightly uncomfortable. I’ve long admired photo projects that are inherently brave, honest and truthful (or the truth according to the curator/photographer). And the best way to start is where it all began. So as I said, this may not be comfortable, but it’s the truth - or the truth according to my experience. A photo essay of all the myriad branches of my family tree and how some of them rotted, or grew. —————— Roots and Rot | A Photo Curation of a Twisted Family Tree My family history confuses me, fascinates me and has been a monster hiding in my closet all of my life. I think I’m ready to lay out all the puzzle pieces and though they may never fully come together, they’ll be there in the open; breathing the open air. They’ll remain as botched as they always have. But at least they’ll be breathing. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn7zotHOF3k/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Gma Watering Her Pregnant Onions. February 21st, 2013. St. Clair, MO From the Project, “Lollar Branch”. ————— I just know my grandma called them “pregnant onions”. She would gently peel off the bulbs that grew on the trunk and call them “babies”. The plants were an ever-present thing in my grandma’s house ever since I could remember; mostly around her sink, shoved into every space, there would be a chipped china cup, an old coffee mug or a saved butter tub with one of her pregnant onions inside. Later, after she passed, my cousin told me that she had kept up the tradition of my grandma, multiplying her supply just as she had. She would also tell me that grandma had told her that these plants were only for family. They weren’t meant to be “shared” with anyone else. My grandma loved plants and would let her children and grandchildren separate her irises from the yard and didn’t care if they gave them to a neighbor to share or a friend. But the pregnant onions were special somehow. She gave me two pots of her “babies” after this was taken. They passed away a few months after she did. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn7xQreu01V/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=