Hair is art. Art is hair.



I’m an artist.  I’m a hairdresser.  I’m proud of it.

After himming and hawing back and forth for my so-far 10 year career, I can say confidently that artist and hairdresser are one and the same.

There was a time that I thought one was better than the other….or that one meant something different.  I thought that one was ok to do for a while.  Maybe it’s because I learned more about ‘art’ and ‘artists’ first or maybe because of the stereotypes that sometimes ring true.  Artists are deep, pensive, and thought provoking, right?  Hairstylists are blonde, dramatic, and self-absorbed, right??  Are these true anymore?  Absolutely not.

I’ve never really talked about my job on my blog…or rather, my career.  I suppose I’ve only written about art and ideas and inspiration for creative projects.  I never quite wanted to overlap what I do with who I am.  See…the funny thing about being a hair dresser, beautician, hair designer, cosmetologist, barber, service provider, wonder woman…is that, for me, it is more artistic and creative than sitting alone with a painting…THAT is what makes it so difficult and painful at times.  It is a constant collaboration with the public and it is intense and extremely gratifying.

I take care of people while I’m on the clock.  I am a care-taker.  It doesn’t end when I clock out, however.

With the evolution of my place in this industry, I want to strive for more artistic insanity.  I want to make beautiful, terrible, simple, extravagant, frightening images.  I want people to say ‘what the fuck?‘ or ‘that’s pretty funny.’  I’m at a point in my career where I’m ready for change and challenge.

I thought I needed to completely change careers.  Certain events have proven that it isn’t time for that to happen.  I think what I really want is to explore all the education that I can and absorb the amazingness of this industry.  I’m at a place where I can do that.  I work for a wonderfully supportive salon.

I can put bread on a girl’s head and it’s hairdressing and it’s art.   Boom, mothafuckas.


Oh to be a girl



It’s a tough deal sometimes….to be a girl.

Good thing she’s basking in the sunshine, soaking in that life-changing vitamin D from the fireball in the sky!  Her legs need a little color after the long, hard, mid-western winter.  They look see through.




People like to say that they could’ve made this piece of art.  They could’ve.  But they didn’t.

People like to say they hate it because it’s minimal and takes very little talent to paint a whole canvas a solid primary color.

People like to be critical.

People like to think they know everything about art.

Guess who loved this piece?  This 6 year old lovely.  Yes.  Art doesn’t have to be complex and inventive to be great.  It can be whatever it wants.  People will still run through the museum to get to it after looking at sterile still lives and portraits.  This 6 year old ran because it’s familiar and comforting and she can relate to it even though she doesn’t know the deep seeded meaning behind it.  People will still stretch their arms out and say, ‘This one is my favorite!’ just like she did.

Word to your mother.

Polly Jean


My tiny obsession with our dog has rubbed off on my eight year old.  She used Miss Polly as her inspiration for a project.  The project?  Create a creature, real or imaginary, out of recycled materials.  Easy.

She chose to make our dog.  I asked if she wanted to make it life size.  Duh.  Why would anyone make a great dane and not make it life size?

Her project blows everyone else’s out of the water.  It’s bigger, it’s cooler, and it’s quite obvious that an adult with an art school education helped her make it.  So, obviously, it’s pretty bad ass.  We covered the whole thing in recycled jeans, leading to a much more uniform finish…and we used pockets as ears and paws.  What 8 year old would think of that?  None.  Boom.  We used buttons for eyes.  Boom!

I am proud that my insanely expensive education has now allowed me to kick ass at second grade art projects.

We also had a good time making it…so there was also some great artistic bonding  going on in the kitchen too.  It’s ok, I’m the greatest parent alive.  You can say it.  I don’t mind.

Thee Arteest

pee wee

Being an artist myself (not on a daily basis and not for money. Ha.) I think that it is totally acceptable to make a little fun of my own kind.  Don’t you think?


It just makes me giggle so hard to myself to think of some of the things we arteests do and say and with what conviction we believe in them.  And that we are so serious about it.  It lends to that whole ‘pretentious artist’ stereotype when we don’t admit that what we do is actually quite humorous.

Searching dumpsters for interesting found objects, sewing with hair, stomping on a canvas, laboring over the perfect shade of teal, not sleeping, ingesting caffeine and nicotine like we’re being paid to, making things, destroying the thing we just made, and then repurposing our destroyed piece.

And we say, ‘it’s about the process.’

It’s hilarious!  It is.  admit it.  And I’m guilty of it too.  I used to make things with Rold Gold pretzels.  It’s not that I’m some New York Times art critic with 23 degrees in art and art history.  I respect artists immensely for their sacrifice and passion and I think everyone should.  I think it’s great when people can sustain themselves solely by creating things that they love.

I’ve met many artists in my days.  And many non-artists and people that don’t get it.  What’s to get?  They think we’re crazy and they all say I can’t even draw a stick person.  To the stick person drawing, I say Bullshit.  It’s really fucking easy to draw a stick person.  3 year olds can do it.  They just don’t criticize themselves.

That’s another giggly part about art.  We are so tortured.  We love what we do so much that it pains us.  Curled up in little, dirty fetus positions on paint stained floors sobbing.  Oh, and candles lit.  Radiohead playing quietly to encourage the sobs.

I met a kid the other day who said, ‘I just find things in the trash that speak to me, and then I place them against the wall in an interesting composition.’


I once told a client that I was going to make an art show just showcasing the different ideas that I had for the art.  Just ideas on paper, hung interestingly around a room.  No actual art.  He loved it.  He thought I was batshit crazy and thought it was hilarious and that I was making it up.  I sure was.



I like things.  I also like a lack of things.  I like organized looking things. 

I also have a lot of things that I’ve saved.  Mostly for art making.  Scraps of this and a box of that….because I might use it for a project someday. 

I might….No, I will!!!

I like my space for art making to be in a little disarray.  I like it to look artsy.  You all know what I mean. 

I am a small hoarder of art supplies.  I think all artists kind of have to be.  How else can you make things?  How else can you use things??

Still…I like all my things in that space.  They make me happy.



Why should you have to buy a whole different package of markers just to get the whole human race? Can’t they just include all these with classic colors? I wonder what the names of the colors are. African-American brown? Pasty white girl? Mandarin?? And also…I teach my little lovelies to color people blue, green, and purple polka dotted if they want. It’s art. Why does everything have to be so literal? Let’s just give the kids all the tools they need and let them be a little more creative. Pretty soon they’ll have to declare their political party of choice in kindergarten.

Hey….there’s a hair in my taco.


New ridiculous painting in the works. 

I’ve been painting pretty curly hairs lately.  They remind me of sperm, which is funny, and unintentional.  And I like them but I feel the need to move in a direction with them…

I was struggling.  I was thinking of just painting some of my favorite things for lack of better subject matter.  I started with food.  I thought to myself…I like tacos a lot..

Then the A-ha hit me!!  Like the band!!  Take on me?  Anyone?  Get it? 

I thought….I’ll put hair in the taco!!!  It wasn’t even a dirty thought at first.  And then I realized the implications of hair in a taco.  Even better. 

Oh, Brain….you got me again!