Oh hi, peeps.

This may thrill or disappoint you, but I dont have too much to say. It’s a bit late, and I’ve had a full day of working, Curiologizing, catching up with a few girlfriends and a brisk walk in the hills. I’m feeling contentedly silent, like a monk who just ate Thanksgiving and is sacked out in a recliner.

Things should be heating up Curiology wise as the holidays march closer, but for now, the main sentiment I’d like to impart is that I love trees. I love trees and I love dirt and bugs and moonlight. I just got back from four days in Yosemite, and dammit if I didn’t leave with a renewed affection for nature.

In other news, a birthday just passed, and I’m trying to make improvements to the rusting machine that is my Wardbrain. Among them:

1. More reading

2. Using a stopwatch to curb procrastination

3. Enough with the chocolate, Ward. Really.

4. Early to bed, early to rise

On that note, I’m hitting the hay. If you have any sage edicts that have dawned on you after a birthday, feel free to school me with them in the comments section. Same with book recommendations. The contents of your brain are valuable, and I am greedy for them.

Contentedly yours,

Miss Alie Ward

Professional Rambler

From the Curiological compound:

I stayed in tonight, glued to the streaming media that would announce the 44th President of the United States of Obama.

I would be engaging in bi-partisan pandering if I didn’t come out and admit that I have a burning crush on the Barack. But regardless of your political position, or your susceptibility to develop a fawning, goofy smile whenever he commands a podium, let one thing be known: You should never be ashamed of your love. Whether you still harbor fluttery feelings toward Palin and her updo, or if Nader’s rodent-like muzzle makes you delirious with lust, feel free to strut your love proudly.

The firey election hubub will soon settle into embers, so perhaps it’s time to focus on those around us we love as well: our spouses, hamsters, hometowns. Get their name inked on a shirt, why don’t you? Or, as the holidays draw close, think about spending your dwindling gift budget on a unique, hand customized gift for a loved one, instead of a lameass last-minute motorized tie rack, or a $60 mail-order box of pears.

After all, Curiology is an American company which uses American made products and employs a handful of otherwise semi-broke American artist-types. Unlike Joe the Plumber, we don’t make over 250K a year, but we love what we do.

Congratulations, ‘Merica, on the corner we’re about to turn. I say we focus on the love.

Unabashedly sentimental,

Miss Alie Ward

Chief Curiologist

www.curiology.com

Halloh my lovely comrades!

Pardon the bloggerffic absence on my part, but I’ve been sporadically out of town, and have been enjoying three dimensional exploits more so than two dimensional screen-bound electronic ones. But my nose is firmly back to the grindstone with many new Curiological developments for fall. I’ll list them in bullet points, so as not to overwhelm you:

1. More new paintings

2. Prints of those paintings

3. More blogging

4. My neighbor has a rooster

I guess I padded things with that last one. As long as I have broached the topic of my neighbor’s rooster, please allow me some catharsis; let me tell you about my neighbor’s rooster. Oh my lord. For those of you who remember the Nancy Kerrigan footage of tire-iron knee-crackery, do your best to recall the “Why-why-why?” wails of larynx-shredding agony that erupted from the young figure skater when Tanya Harding’s thugs assaulted her with a bar of metal. That is how my soul feels every morning when my neighbor’s rooster attacks my ears, my dreams and my psyche with his malevolent cockadoodledooery.

What’s the rooster got going on so early in the morning? A conference call to China? Sleep in. Take a load off, buddy. You’re a chicken.

I don’t know why my neighbor suddenly owns this rooster. I would like him to not own a rooster.

This has been a recent development, and I hope to God that my neighbor is a viciously carnivorous man, hungry for coq au vin or chicken caccitore, and that my neighbor can no longer bear the constant salivations and stomach churning hunger that afflicts him every time he feeds this rooster. That, or I hope some nice lady who lives in the country–not my gang-addled ghetto– comes to adopt this loud, horrible bird and ends the daily dawn-squawking that robs me of rest.

In other news, all else at Curiology HQ is dandy. I’m happy, I love painting, and with the upcoming holidays, we’re expecting a big season for tattoo shirts. We’re all well stocked after the summer shortage, and are turning them around faster than ever.

Much adoration to each of you, and check in for more updates.

Also, if anyone knows of any lovely, spacious apartments in the Silverlake or Beachwood Canyon area of Los Angeles, do send word or leave me a comment.

With unbridled affection,

Miss Alie Ward

Chief Curiologist

curiology.com

Note: the above painting, “Wishbone vs.” is 7 inches square and available. Shoot me a note if you’d like to add it to your collection.

Halloh my esteemed comrades!

I was at the gallery until 5 am hanging up the new work, and in my delerium failed to photograph pieces for the blog. But here’s a temporary shot to tide The Curious over– it’s kind of like footage of the Yeti: blurry, dubious, but hopefully enough to incite intrigue.

“Anywhere.”, acrylic on wood

The show at Box Eight is finally tonight, and I’m just a flutter with nerves and excitement. Mostly excitement. I’ve been working on some of these pieces for months and I’m so very happy to have them seen.

The show tonight features three bands, several artists and a bit of an “eventy” vibe. There is a cover, but come on down and kick it with Ward in a jumpsuit.

I must say, one of the best moments of the process was sitting on the floor in a huge gallery space last night, putting some finishing touches on a piece while other artists hung their work and rushed around anxiously. It was close to 2 am, and the radio was blaring KCRW when a song by one of tonight’s music acts, Chester French was announced, along with our art show. A collective “w00000t!” rang out, and the excitement for tonight was quite palpable.

Thanks for reading and please continue to rock on.

Warmest regards,

Miss Alie Ward

PS- Um, a marching band just passed by my window on York Blvd. Are marching bands good omens?

Someone once said something brilliant about making an omelet, and eggs. Something about cracking them. Whatever.

Were that same master of metaphors to have tripped upon an art studio just before a show, he would have adjusted his monocle and thusly proclaimed “To make an art show, you have to crack open a few tubes of paint, scatter them all over the floor, keep a murky bucket of sloppy paintwater in the middle of the room, trip over it, and embrace that your studio will look like a meth den just before the camera guy from COPS busts in.” Also, your hair will look awful, he would have added.

Things are moving along at an even clip. I’m so excited to bring these pieces out of the crack den and into the world; I’m also excited to fall asleep in a bed, instead of with my face on a painting.

Hope to see you on the 16th, my comrades. Also, high quality prints of the piece “Then vs. Now” have just become available as of today. Yay.

Also, if you happen to be waiting on a back order of a tattoo shirt (particularly in a men’s size) please accept my most red-faced and sincere apologies that it’s taken so long to get them out the door. Post Saturday, they are first in line in the Curiological queue. They are each hand-inked in a precise, loving, time consuming fashion, and I’ll be sending out a batch after the show.

Much affection and many high fives,

Chief Curiologist

Halloh!

Just a quick update that my next show is on Saturday, August 16th at Box Eight. My closest of comrades (including The Georgia and Klimaface and The Micah) have received text messages pecked out by paint covered fingers today, detailing my fluctuating levels of excitement/anxiety as I remain sequestered in a state of creative hermitude.

For now, put this on your calendar and come by for a hello, a high five and to take advantage of our vodka sponsors. New paintings are being wrapped up, and they can’t wait to see you. And to have a Beverage of Relaxation with you.

Muchos amore from my studio/sauna,

Hello and hello and hello.

I’m back from Huckleberry Territory and my first staggers off of a plane and onto the curb at LAX reacquainted me with what I had temporarily forgotten: L.A. is hot and loud.

My time in Trout Creek, Montana was a bloated melange of good times, lake swimming, fattening cuisine, and ridiculously vast skies cluttered with more stars that I’d ever seen. There was also abundant taxidermy, fresh made waffles, and one corpse discovered in a hotel room. More on that later, preferably over white Russians to soften the shock. In all–other than that last part– I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I sat on a dock of a lake at dusk, watching the bats and hoping I’d remember every detail.

Now that I’ve come back, it’s time to get down to the task at hand: ass kicking. More specifically, the kicking of the ass of a to-do list involving tattoo shirt inking and getting ready for my next art show, set to take place at Box Eight on August 16th.

13 paintings are ready or in progress, and if you come by Box Eight on the 16th, you’ll get a gander at them and a complimentary high five.

More updates + photos to come. Meanwhile, please rock on.

After a year of eating dinner from a vending machine, manic off-hours multitasking and more whining than any one person should ever be allowed, I’m finally getting out of dodge.

In 24 hours, I’ll be in Trout Creek Montana, which–according to the 2000 census–has population of 261. My family is enormous, and the Ward Family Reunion ‘08 will more than double the town. Trout Creek should be terrified. I should be terrified.

But I’m about to stuff some SPF 70 and bug repellent in a suitcase and hit Big Sky country. When I come back next week, the whole new shipment of tattoo tees that have been on back order since the Father’s Day rush will have arrived. So if I owe you a shirt, my friends, it’s coming soon.

That is, of course, barring any major epiphanies. I’ve once before (junior year of high school) changed the course of my life (switched intended majors in college) because of sitting on a dock at night near a lake in Montana, watching bats feed on bugs and turtles slipping off logs (true story). I’m almost afraid that the serenity, clean air and lack of celebrity bloggers will make LA seem that much more absurd to return to.

When I get back, more details on that August 16 art show. Calendars: mark ‘em. Tattoo shirts: coming soon.

Until then,

Halloh halloh

Go grab a pen. Or a pencil. I’ll hang out here for a sec. Melted eyeliner is fine, so long as it writes.

Okay, have it? Lovely. Mark thine calendar for August 16, as the art show I’ve had under my hat for a while (pending fliers and further details, completed paintings, an oufit to wear, etc.) is now perfectly ready to be announced.

It’s a group show at Box 8 near downtown with some seriously talented fashion photographers and artists. Really, it’s a honor to be involved. I’ll be showing around 10 new pieces, some of which have been previewed here. So do make a note, and I’ll fill you in on further details as they come down the pike.

For now, a flier:

I’ll see you peeps on the 16th. Until then, back to the easel.

High fives,

It’s past midnight on a Sunday, which generally marks a dread that only a lurching, encroaching Monday can bring. I myself have a relatively bitchin’ job, so Sunday night presents only modest amounts of fear and dread, most of which are related to sleep deprivation.

Webmaster MC Dangerpants is sitting next to me pecking away at an identical MacBook–with the Smiths on iTunes–and we’re about to launch the new site. Our hair looks awful. Dangerpants is sporting an unruly, bratty afro, and my own has seemed to disband from its para-dreadlocked state into a web-like frizz. But the good news is that the site is almost done, which means we’ll make it live, which means I can sleep.

Despite our hair looking awful, the site looks radass. New paintings, new prints, a blog, a mailing list sign up…it’s like Christmas for me, only more like Hannukka because there’s a bunch of presents, some of which we’ll be rolling out over a few days. Also, not that you care, but I totally want to eat some of those chocolate coins right now.

Please rock on and thanks for checking the site, peeps.

Most sincerely,

Miss Alie Ward

Chief Curiologist