SoulPancake

Any time I write anything is usually a type of self-portrait

I wrote a script for a very short/ridiculous video then shot it with my wife. I think it portrays what I'm all about.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GebaS-EB3ZE

Can we be in our self portrait? Cheating? Banishment? Death?

Poems
:)

I wrote a "novella" for NaNoWriMo (google it) a few years ago called 'The Broken Ones' and that's pretty much me..

My friend made a collage for me for Christmas last year and if you put that in a box with yarn and crochet hooks and the Bible and lots of books and empty notebooks and new pens and lots of blue things and the moon and pictures of my friends and family and the song "Golden" by Switchfoot and the song "September" by Earth Wind and Fire then you'd have me.

"the crux"
by, Steven M. Hammond
March 2008


my mother always gave me, a full plate of food
but growing up I never had my own silver-spoon.
my father only taught me, a love of things that I can’t use
so you could see the reasons why, I grew up so confused
now to this day I still don’t know, how to make my life grow obtuse
and when I get the blues, I tend to become a recluse.
I never felt that I ever had, anything to prove,
to me my strengths have always been, in the subtlety of truth
I look back on my life and still have nothing to conclude
just an arm full of defeats rooted at the base of abuse.
life is not a comedy, nor is it a cartoon
I think of all my mistakes and how they tend to fume,
wafting out of darkness, right straight into the plain view
I’m running out of excuses and into the more obvious clues
(how odd is it that my white lies can be much darker than any bruise?)
now alert the media, the anchor sinking news
I’m looking into the eyes of life, admiting that I lose
just know I’m not giving up, I’m just saying that I’m screwed!
I am left vulnarable, as if publicly in the nude
with a stack of insecurities eating at my glue,
and dwelling on the negative is all I can seem to do
but falling apart, and failing a lot, is a repetoire with no excuse.
and as much as I want to drop the chair and wear the noose
I know all i need to do is strap on my shoes,
start a walk towards bigger and better thing and get on a move
go out onto the town, and fit into my groove.
and I will not stop, until all my fears have been subdued.

I do beadwork, and with my husband, did a lot of designing of patterns for wearables (garments) and jewelry items. Some pieces comprised of over 19,000 beads, each placed one at a time, is my self portrait... Patient, loving, and detail orientated.

I did a collage recently on the front of my new journal. Took me quite a while. I'm also not very creative this is probably the first art type project i've done willingly. Although what is art, really?

http://img7.imageshack.us/img7/8693/1011090040.jpg [crappy quality and the lighting makes it look weird but oh well ^_^]

It sounds weird, but I took a picture of a bird carcass that had washed up on a stone beach. It's decaying but in the picture it's bright white and looks like its dancing.

I wrote a book called The Inn.