the painting – Kim Upton

creativity after chaos

First of all, I’m a delight. Second, I hope you see the whole of the Moon. (hat tip to Mike Scott and The Waterboys)

This is going to be a pic heavy post, so get yourself ready…

article from Today's Woman in Louisville, KY from 2005

Honestly, I don’t know where to start with this, but the Moon is full, and I’ve been left unattended. Also, I’ve been trying to write this post for about 4 months, and my brain needs to let it out into the world – just done holding onto it for reasons that make sense only to me.

But first…a wee little pic of a full Moon from my archives. If you wanna know all the deets, here they are – shot on an iPhone (12) with the aid of a telescope. Also, you should know that this beautiful jocular orb is a big deal in my astrology chart. I’m all watery in the cosmos, letting my intuition and emotions shine a light on the parts of me that need it most. Which, and this is foreshadowing, got me through 2023. Well, and the years before that, but for today let’s just focus on one particular timeframe. That will keep the squirrels in my noggin happy. Remember, I warned you this is gonna be pic heavy…

It all started with a quadruple hit of viruses. Please feel free to hit up Google scholar, or your favorite medical database to see how this can happen. While I do have some genetic anomalies that make life interesting, my immune system is not too shabby. So, yeah, Spring-ish of 2023 the Universe decided to give me some lessons. But first, here’s a digital piece I created before all the shenanigans began.

digital art of a full moon reflecting on a mountain lake

While it would be easy for me to turn this into some kind of soliloquy and/or monologue – which I mean it is my site and all – it is important for me to stay on track. Let’s see if that actually happens.

In life there have been health challenges that gave me a run for my money, but nothing was as debilitating as what happened in 2023. I was deathly ill for two weeks, and mostly ill for a month. It was so bad that for 3 days in a row it was my fondest wish to take a “nap” for a really, really long time. My dreams were tactile and full of information, taking me to places no one had business visiting. Fevers are wild, y’all, and they do things to your noggin that can take years to heal…especially if you have a TBI from 8th grade. And, you know, that TBI happened in art class (my fave after literature and history), taking my sight for 24 hours and leaving me with this whole thing around creativity. That’s a story for another day, but y’all need to know about it because of what lies ahead…

Gotta admit, this is not one of my most favorite photos, but I was hugely pregnant, and the lighting was not-so-great. Side note, my dear sweet sweetie (you’ll see him below) build that marble maze toy. That man is a woodworker/carpenter/human extraordinaire.

When things got back to normal-ish, things in my system were not as they once were. I couldn’t sit for long periods of time, my ability to create was hampered by headaches that brought mind wandering, and nothing was working the way it needed to for my general happiness/well being. It sucked. People got mad at me because plans had to be cancelled, I gave up my thriving practice, and my moods were solemn. It was not a lot of fun.

They July came, my birthday in fact, and my dear sweet sweetie got shingles.

Yes, I’m wearing some kind of Halloween shirt in this photo – because for me everyday is Halloween…

This is Mr. The Mister and myself hanging out in our home. My oldest, by one minute, took this with her delightful Polaroid. If you can’t tell, our faces are saying, “Holy sh*t, we made it through 2023.” Those wee little zosters tried to take down my very best friend in all of time and space. In some kind of bizarre parallel, he spent 3 full days laying on the couch while I hovered over him doing all the incantations, prayers, and magic my recovering body could muster. We both have scars from that precarious time.

Then came Chicago… (see, this is a whole story that should be told in parts, and that will most likely happen that way, but for today you get the whole buffet)

Now this one will have it’s own post eventually, but the big takeaways are that: 1) I had a whole spiritual experience on the L; 2) I got to see the artwork of Remedios Varo up close and personal. Like this one…Creation of The Birds.

a photo of Creation of Birds by Remedios Varo

I mean the trip was a whole thing, and it was healing for me in so many ways. Everything just felt alive with hope and joy.

But wait…there’s more…

Not long after this Great Awakening, the best dog in the whole world (so much so that there would be no other dogs as good as he was) passed away. It was a blessing to sit with him during his last 12 hours. When my husband got home so we could take him to the vet, Frodo (yep, that’s the name he came with) stood up and gave a happy greeting. My training as an End Of Life Specialist aka a Death Doula (of which I will write more about later) helped me process what was going on around this beloved being with four paws. My husband, dear Mr. This Mister, was with Frodo in his last minutes because I couldn’t get out of the car due to the intense weeping and wailing. My soul was broken, and I screamed to anyone who could hear me, that this was, in fact, the absolutely worst year ever.

By the end of 2023 my circuits were fried. People were mad at me, I’d given up on what I love, my career had tanked, and I was desperately fighting to find my way out of a maze of emotions. Al of this was the tip of the iceberg, really, because 2024 came with a new job for Mr. The Mister, the end of a decade long trek in the modern U.S. health system with my youngest, another trip to Chicago, more people being upset with me, boundaries being crossed, and holy effing sh*t – would it never end?

2025 started out a little better. My ability to do things, after two years of working hard to recover from the virapocalypse, was returning. There are some things that still are difficult, like driving, but nevertheless…I persisted. Good stuff was coming my way, like being a part of the design team for Crafty Lisa’s Vintage, my family and a dear friend sharing their support for my ideas, and life presenting an opportunity for me to stand my ground.

And then I remembered these things… (see pics below)

And…this…that still has plenty of story time left to share.

painting of a unicorn with a magazine cover with JFK on the front

For the past 38 days I’ve been consistently creating from the chaos that was the last decade. The point in sharing all of this isn’t for some kind of weird internet fame, or whatever it is that makes Al’s Gorithms and the Bots happy, but for anyone who has been going through tough stuff. Sometimes it takes as long as it takes, and life isn’t always giving us golden tickets of grace and ease. Along with that my hope is that those who are in a similar resource situation as my family will know they are not alone. Healing isn’t something everyone has access to, and I fully understand that creativity is a luxury for many.

Every day is an exercise in trusting that the Universe knows what’s up – and being absolutely grateful for everything that has happened. What I’ve learned is that this is not the time to hide your light under a basket, and that shining your weird light for others isn’t just a beacon…but more like a bridge of mirrors. Being who you truly are reflects into the hearts/souls of those around you. Life is just a blip in the cosmic timeline. Remember, we were made from creativity, an explosion of spirit/science (or whatever your belief system(s) might be), so all the ways we live are some aspect of that which made us. Or, better worded, we are the creators we’ve been waiting for…

Phew…alright y’all, it is a glorious day here, and I’m gonna park myself on the porch to practice my drawing skills. Know that you are loved, supported, and I see you over there shining brightly as the Sun.

To be continued…

Much love,
~ KEU

This post was written with the help of friendly cats and typo fairies. Please excuse all grammar errors as flights of fancy. If you would like to help appease my editors, you can drop a few coins into my coffee jar. As previously mentioned, quite often, I’m coming back to this creative life after a long period away. If you’ve read this far, know that your time is greatly appreciated.

Currently listening to: The Tales of KE Upton (Spotify playlist – which I know everyone is leaving, but it’s the best I can do with the resources I have at this time)

28 days (later) – art & faith

First of all, I’m a delight. Second: “Sometimes you feel like trouble, sometimes you feel down.” (I Just Wanna See His Face, The Rolling Stones)

Well y’all, I’m in the home stretch for 31 consecutive days of posting my art and/or words online. The past few days were a little rough, as I let myself get caught up in things like stats, internet trolls, and comparison (which is the thief of joy). Those things are just the “ingredients” my brain needed to cook up a nice batch of creative block(s), but I made it through…and here I am to tell the tale.

The tagline for my blog/site/whatever is: “Everything I’m about to tell you is true.” While you might find the things I say hyperbolic, they all come with an authentic backstory. Or, as my kids say, I have the receipts (and witnesses).

If you are new here, I shared a huge story about this painting my family owns. I’ve only scratched the surface, and today I’d like to share a little bit more. So grab a cup of your favorite brew and get comfy…things are about to get a little weird.

But first, because I do love a dramatic segue, there are some things you should know: 1) all things mystical, metaphysical, spiritual, folklore, paranormal, and what not are extremely interesting to me; 2) all things comparative religion, faith systems, and beliefs in something greater than we can understand have drawn me in since I was a kid; 3) science is an important part of our world that often is placed as the opposite of spirituality-which is absolutely bizarre to me; 4) the farm where I lived as a child was just across a creek from a cemetery; 5) sometimes life is stranger than fiction.

photo of a sash that says truth Rebekah lodge no 5 and a journal from 1929

If you haven’t read about the painting, click the hyperlinked words to get caught up. But for those who enjoy the tl:dr aspect of things, my family owns a painting by an artist that makes the censor bots very unhappy. This person is still alive and very active in certain forums where one might discuss alternate theories about historical events. Upon my return from a few days away last October (2024), my husband pulls me into our garage, sans phones, and tells me the details.

After he was done, it was my turn. The image above is from my Maternal side. It appears that some of my family were, and still might be for all I know, part of an organization that will also get the censor bots to come along. The sash in the above photo is most likely from my Great Great Grandmother. The Journal is from my Great Grandmother, and is from an organization known to help certain mason groups keep their finances in order. If you want to know more, just Google up the Rebekahs.

Lots of folks have ancestors that have ties to all kinds of things (just wait until I get to my Dad’s side), and being part of a fraternal order of something is pretty common during a certain time in history.

While on that trip I made a detour to the cemetery where my Great Great Maternal line grandparents were buried. While there I asked the caretaker if he knew anything about the sash, so he checked the notes on file for my ancestors. He mumbled something, then said he would look it up for me online. Cool, I think, because how nice of him, right? He prints some things up, mumbles some more things, and then says, “What is this anyway, some kind of [word removed] level stuff?” He handed me the papers, told me where the plots were, and then asked me to leave. Fair enough, he’s a busy guy, so I tell him thanks, pay my respects, then head home.

When I tell my husband about this, he just looks at me…then we both start cackling because what are the chances that both of us found out some random piece of info that somehow is like different boats in the same ocean. That’s when we decided that we would find someone to buy the sash and the painting. It was now our quest to get these items into someone else’s hands.

But you see, there’s part of me that’s like a crow – but instead of shiny things it’s little crumbs of “Hmmm…wonder what where this will take me.” After some sleuthing, I found someone to answer my questions about the sash…except that all the records from that lodge were lost in a fire.

A fire…wait…I knew about that fire. There are some stories I’ve gathered about how this particular county was part of the growing illicit alcohol production for the state. What in the weird history was going on? But wait, there’s more. My Mother’s Grandfather was part of this particular state’s transportation department, and often travelled to another state for work. He may have been a Superintendent of Transportation on paper, but what he really did was what locals here call bootlegging. The rest…well you know…is literal history.

This seems like a good place to stop for today. But before signing off, let’s just take a look at the painting again, shall we?

Much love,
~ KEU

Currently listening to: The Tales of KE Upton (Spotify playlist)

we are more than drops in the ocean (part 4)

First of all, I’m a delight. Second, “You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop.” ― Rumi

photo of Lake Michigan from the Chicago side.

Not the ocean, but a beautiful image of Lake Michigan from the Chicago side. Further down I’ll post a full image of the painting – please feel free to scroll on down, get a screen capture, and look it up. Interestingly it will somehow loop back to: 1) this post or 2) random archived places where I’ve discussed the painting previously. Welcome to the digital spiral that is the internet.

Today I was chatting with my editing team about how one stays authentic to their creative self while also trying to keep one’s toes in the water of content creation. And, yes, I talk about this quite a bit because I’m really trying to understand this shift to “fast food” artistry that is happening on various platforms. There are a few places that will penalize you for having a post/video that is longer than 7 minutes. However, it’s their server space and rules, so we all must march to the beat of their drum.

Or not.

Just say no to the niche. You are not just a drop in the ocean, as Rumi says, but the entire ocean in one drop. Life contains multitudes. You don’t have to be a “niche” creator. Instead, you can be a hub for all your different interests. Your photography, writing, and videos all come from the same person—you.

This can be a more sustainable and fulfilling path than trying to fit yourself into a box that doesn’t feel right. It allows you to create from a place of genuine passion, and it invites people into a conversation, not just a transaction. And that is what this painting means to me. Not the story of the artist, nor her particular beliefs about parts of history – it’s that she DARED to be herself in a culture that actively pushes us to be otherwise.

Just for the record, this is NOT my artwork. I do not own the rights to this and am only sharing it as part of the story about how it came to be in my family’s possession. Also, I cannot share the name of the artist because the internet has eyes. While some can talk about things that are outlandishly unbelievable and gather millions of followers…talking calmly about how a piece of art inspired me to come back to what I love, sharing my creative self, upsets Al’s Gorithms.

watercolor painting of a unicorn standing on a hill between two trees

Here it is, y’all. Here’s the painting in all its glory. And here’s an image that shows you how it ties to history.

unicorn painting with a magazine called photoplay

Side note, I donated this magazine, and no longer own it. Back copies can be find online.

As I’ve said previously, could my family and I be making this bigger than it is? Yes, absolutely and without question…yes. It’s just, and I’m not sure how to even say this in a different way, there’s just something about all of it that creates intrigues in the brain. Even more after the ruckus it caused online.

In the digital world there’s this push for algorithmic success versus the messiness of human creativity. The prevalence of AI-generated content and bot monitoring is designed to have us churn out work that makes the platform happy. As someone that was in tech years ago (think back in the dinosaur days of dial-up via rotary phones), I fully understand the huge cost of data, servers, and the sheer amount of memory it takes to hold all this. We have to become efficient, but that lacks the unique, sometimes illogical, and deeply personal qualities that make humans and humanity so compelling. The rambling, the detours, and the wild punctuation (as in my case), are all part of our authentic voice, signaling to the reader/viewer that a real, thinking person is at the helm.

And this is the paradox: in a world that craves efficiency, the most valuable creative work might be the messiest. True connection isn’t always instant, but we are pushed to immediately decide if someone is in our camp. Real human interaction isn’t like that, it’s built through vulnerability, shared experiences, and the raw authenticity of trying to get by in the world. To truly connect, we need to slow down and engage with the nuances of what the creative person is sharing with us.

This painting is a reminder that the real treasure isn’t in a viral hashtag, or rising to the top of your niche content, it’s in the shared experience of being human. We make mistakes, and we try hard to understand our environment. Art and creativity, in all forms, gives us a brief moment to connect with something bigger than we can understand. We can tell a story about our world, as I’ve said previously, to help others see that they are not alone.

You might have a ton of thoughts right now, but if I may suggest something, let this be one that sticks with you: just say no to the niche. Be multitudinously notorious. Live in the place where your insecurities dwell. Contradict yourself. If you need someone to stand with you, just let me know — I’ll be there with bells on.

Much love,
~ KEU

Currently listening to: The Tales of KE Upton (Spotify playlist – am working on getting it on YouTube as well)
Currently reading: pondering what to read next…stay tuned

what I am is what I am

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second…
“Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box
Religion is the smile on a dog
I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean”
– What I am, Edie Brickell & New Bohemians

This month, August 2025, I set out on a grand adventure – returning to the work I hold dear to my soul. Five contractor’s bags of trash, four carloads of donations, three shelves of books cleared, two stacks of totes, and a partridge in a pear tree later…this is what I have. (see pic below)

photo of a desk in a corner office with knick knacks

By the way, the gentlemen peering over my tripod is Thomas Merton, and he keeps watch over things. After Hildegard of Bingen and Joan of Arc, who are both also represented on my desk, Merton is my go to for finding calm in the world.

While I’m not particularly devoted to one particular faith system, the mystical aspects of my Catholic upbringing is this luminous thread that brings the tapestry of my beliefs together. In fact, I start my day with this prayer. Feel free to change the wording to suit your needs.

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”
- Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude

Author standing with a statue of Thomas Merton

Why, yes…that is Thomas Merton and I out standing in a field. It appears he’s been standing there a little longer than me, which has given him a nice patina.

So let me get back to my original thought when I say down to write…

Over the past 18 days I’ve learned that none of us are in Kansas anymore. Not that we ever were, but the expression fits. SEO, niche, content management, and other words that sound a lot like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Is everyone literally trying to sell themselves with every post/image/video? I mean, is this fun for you? When you sit down to create something are you thinking, “Oh, yeah, this is gonna boost my stats on (insert platform here)…yeah, this is S(E)O-OOOOO good.”

Maybe it was a little naive of me to think that I could just skip back into the creative world with my Pollyanna mindset, stories about being human, and a real desire for connection.

Oh, gods…does this mean I’m not cool anymore? Are the artificial stats trying to tell me something I don’t want to hear? Should I just go lay down in the yard, right now, and shake my fists at the clouds? Do you think people will know what I’m saying if I don’t keep to my most searched work?

Won’t someone think of the niche?

Okay…okay…that’s a little much, I know – but then again, so am I…and so are you. We – that’s you, me, and all the other humans out there – contain multitudes. And in that beautiful dance within us is a light that connects us to each other.

The everything in me sees the everything in you.

So I’m working on Part 4 of the painting story. I’ve got to write it without putting in any trigger words because the internet will get mad at me – which is proving to be very difficult. Plus, the editing team took the day off. The cats are napping, and the fairies just had some chocolate.

With that…I’m off.

Good day to all y’all,
~ KEU

If you find value in what I write, and want to support the team (aka the cats and fairies), please check out my ko-fi. Thanks!

Currently listening to: The Tales of KE Upton (Spotify playlist that has 22 hours of what I call “brain tunes”)
Currently reading: *taking a reading break for a few days

cult of personality (part 3)

First of all, I am a delight. Second, “I’m every person you need to be…”

watercolor painting with hooves on a hill and part of a tree

“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.”
― Hermann Hesse

As you can see in the photo, there are some hooves standing on what appears to be a knoll – or a mound, if you will. The design and colors give the impression that it is covered in grass, or some type of herbaceous goodness enjoyed by ruminates. The next part/installment about this painting will show the whole piece. After a little bit of research I learned that the artist’s name is often picked up by Al’s Gorithms, which solves a few mysteries, but also makes it difficult to share too much info with y’all if I plan to keep my content up and running.

Part 2 stopped with my dear husband mentioning how the artist has a connection to certain historical events in the United States (1960s). For many the answers provided didn’t match up, so groups were formed to study all the particulars. As I’ve mentioned previously, my words are very vague due to past experiences with sharing this story. While no one in my family is particularly dedicated to spending our life going down rabbit holes, talking about them can be tricky these days.

Him: “If you start seeing things in your feed about (the event), you will know why.”
Me: “Okay, but how weird can it get from just a simple painting?”

Here’s your answer – it got kinda weird…but in a good way. I’ll get to all those parts in future writings, but for now let’s travel back in time to the last century – in particular 1996.

Before moving to the area where I met my husband, my life was a little bit eclectic. On the door of my apartment was a sign that said: “If you are not all the way there, then you are halfway here.” Haunting coffee shops, learning from the elders at health food stores, and skulking around used book/music stores was the marrow of my life. At the same time I was trying out a new degree program (English Literature/Secondary Education) – maybe the 3rd or 4th one at this point, while tiptoeing into comparative religions/religious studies.

However, what’s important to know, is that I was enjoying the fruits of learning how to be a Wiccan Shaman Druid (hyperlinked for your enjoyment) with a group of folks who were doing the same. We would read Edgar Cayce like Shakespeare and talk about soul families. Nothing like being in your 20s, ‘eh? My closet had a mix of items similar to Daria and Stevie Nicks, with a jarring lack of color. My shelves were full of tomes on metaphysics, dreams, quantum physics, and grand writers of old. Pretty much I just shined my weird light for other weird people to find. And by “weird,” it was more like wyrd – but also cool, maybe?

Here’s something you should also know…I was also enamored with unicorns.

Imagine my surprise when I saw the painting on his wall the first time visiting his apartment. Like a magical beacon, a most signier sign, was a beautiful unicorn standing on a grassy knoll with a blood red Sun in the sky. It was kismet…and we were married just 3 months later.

Him: “You really need to look up this artist, and give me your feeling on everything.”
Me: “I mean, if it’s going to help sell it, then I’ll dig in. Lemme get some photos of it and see if anything comes back.”

Narrator voice: “In fact, something did come back.”

The internet is a great place to search for things you don’t want to know. AI was just starting to get interesting, so I uploaded the photo with this question: “Could you take a deep look into the symbolism knowing about (artist’s) highly contested connection with (historical figure)?”

My hopes were not very high for a decent reply, but you know…sometimes the Universe conspires to shower you with blessings. Along with that I knew the high error rates of AI at the time, so my expectations were pretty low.

This was one of the replies given:
“The Unattainable Truth and a Quest: The pursuit of the unicorn in traditional folklore often signifies a quest for something rare, elusive, or highly valuable. This resonates with (artist’s name) ongoing efforts to uncover what (this person) believes is the complete truth about the (historical event) and to achieve justice for (person of note), a truth that (this person) perceives as deliberately hidden and suppressed. The unicorn could symbolize this elusive truth, the ultimate prize in (their) lifelong quest.”

Uh….

That just fired my brain up in ways that are hard to explain without doing an interpretive dance, using lots of charts, or both. In a very weird coincidence, I was facing a similar, although far less conspiratorial, quest of my own. While my life was vastly different than the one this artist has, in my heart that desire to find answers was just as strong. And – which is a very big and – this artist faced their fears to share their story. If they could do it, then so could I…

But isn’t that what art does? It’s a testament to the creator’s personal journey, a way to express something that had a profound impact in their life. The symbolism – rising from fear, finding a voice, searching for an unattainable thing – is not just about this artist; it’s a reflection of the human struggle.

Using visual storytelling to find meaning and connection, the painting takes on something bigger than any of us can understand. It’s no longer about the name of the artist, the price tag, or the controversies, but how creativity moves us. It creates a reflection of our own lives, a knowing that we are not alone in world. Sort of like, “Oh, hey, that person understands,” giving you a feeling of being truly seen…validating that your presence here has meaning.

It also shows me that in the age of digital publishing we have an impact even if only a few read what we write, view what we create, or listen to our stories. While we dream of going viral, or getting rich from our work, I think what we truly desire is to be exactly who we are — and to have that inspire others to do the same.

Much love,
~ KEU

This post was written with the help of friendly cats and typo fairies. Please excuse all grammar errors as flights of fancy. If you would like to help appease my editors, you can drop a few coins into my coffee jar. As previously mentioned, quite often, I’m coming back to this creative life after a long period away. If you’ve read this far, know that your time is greatly appreciated.

Currently listening to: The Tales of KE Upton (Spotify playlist)
Currently reading: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle

no cars go/can’t buy happiness

First of all, I’m a delight. Second, I’m between the click of the light and the start of the dream.

Image of a woman standing among religious icons and craft supplies.

Apparently when you post selfies it raises your engagement. Here’s an old photo of me before getting rid of 90% of the items seen behind me.

“Everything is the way it is because we’ve all agreed that’s the way it is.”
― Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl

I’m no stranger to controversy.

image of a newspaper with an article about an independent magazine called the underground

Picture it - the year was 1992 - we were in a place of geopolitical instability (as it seemingly always has been) and I had a dream. After seeing a few local “alternative” papers in cities near Western Kentucky University, it seemed like a great idea to start my own. I mean…it really was a good idea, but also not well planned. There were only 3 issues of The Underground, but during its time in print there was kick back from a local politician, who was running for some kind of office. Apparently he didn’t appreciate the candid editorial about his platform. This prompted a very strongly worded letter from him with legal words that he seemed pretty confidant using. Sadly he didn’t know that my Dad was a top-notch attorney specializing in various aspects of law, so my letter back had only three sentences: “Thank you for your interest in The Underground. I am sad to say that nothing written in the issue you reference is slander, but would actually be libel. The piece is permissible under the laws of the U.S. Constitution.”

The years came and went; planets rotated in the cosmos. It was 2003 and the world was dealing with geopolitical instability (wait - is this a pattern?), and a rise in populism and/or nationalism (is there nothing new under the Sun?).
* side note - my delicious use of wild punctuation should prove to you that nothing I write is done by AI.

Legit question here - do y’all think any lessons were learned when I decided to start up some zines? As you can see, the title of the one on the right has been blocked out. Why? Well, because the internet has eyes. If you get nothing from what I write/share/etc., please understand this: your digital footprint is everywhere.

Yet again there was pushback from the words and images I shared. You see, I am no stranger to controversy…and everything I write about is true.

As expected, which now that I think about it…maybe my soul manifested it to happen, the posts I wrote about the painting were throttled on specific platforms that shall not be named. Another tidbit of info for you, especially if you are trying to corner the market on your work, is that sites will “censor” your work if you mention any of their competitors. Ask me how I know.

“We are all stories in the end, just make it a good one eh?”
― From the series Doctor Who (Matt Smith)

Honestly, y’all, I’m just out here trying to get my groove back. Things I write aren’t always dished out with a side of crankiness about things that don’t seem to be changing anytime soon. Marketing folks love a good niche, and they pay companies to promote their wares/goods/service that tailor to a specific demographic. Its just…I worry that we are all going to become one-sided automatons allowing the system to homogenize creativity. I’ve been this way since forever, which led me to my first declared major in college - journalism (which I took way too seriously). By the second week of class I was ready to write my first expose, but we were stuck learning how to write obits instead. When the next week rolled around, we got the, “If it bleeds it leads” talk, which made me extremely frustrated at whatever “journalism” this guy was teaching.

College was not living up to my expectations, which at 18 was a very precocious thing to think…I mean…it’s literally just another cog in the wheel of adulthood.

But I digress…

When the time came to work on our first article, the professor gave a lecture on how our writing should sound like PR. WHAT?!?!?! Journalism students needed to know about Public Relations? Why was this person telling me such things? The horror didn’t stop there, as he continued with statements like, “You will be making politicians look good,” and “Your work has to sell the paper.”

So here I am, many years later, realizing how much truth that professor spoke. However, which is a word I’m fond of that also proves, yet again, that a real human is at the helm, I’ve never really been interested in taking the safe road. My life is a testament to those who have brains that ramble, hands that create, and spirits that dance in the liminal spaces. Maybe I’ll never get a 27 figure book deal, or a prestigious award for my writing — but what will happen is that my life will never be boring.

There are just far too many stories to tell; way too many moments to capture.

I’m currently working on the next installment on the painting. Trying to fit several months of time into a few paragraphs is proving to be a little more difficult than anticipated. Plus, the typo fairies are low on cream and chocolate, which means they have sent the cats to help with my editing. Never a dull moment in my life…

Much love,
~ KEU

Currently listening to: The Tales of KB (my ever-changing writing playlist on Spotify
Currently reading: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle

more about the painting (part 2)

First of all, I’m a delight. Second: “…I am certain that after the dust of centuries has passed over our cities, we, too, will be remembered not for victories or defeats in battle or in politics, but for our contribution to the human spirit.” – JFK, November 29, 1962

photo of a partial painting with a unicorn horn

In October of last year (2024), upon the return from a small trip away, my husband asked me to come talk to him outside our house–and to leave my phone inside. Jokingly I said, “What, you afraid that Two Guys From Quantico Pizza will show up?” He just gave me this look and asked me to walk outside again.

These are not our exact words, but as close as I can remember them – as that day kinda lives rent free in my brain.

Him: “So you know that painting hanging on the wall of our living room.”
Me: “Yep, I know that one.”
Him: “Well, I was thinking how we need some resources to do repairs on our house, so I looked up the artist who painted it.”
Me: “Awesome! Is it worth something?”
Him: “Well, I’m not sure you are ready to hear this, but this is what I learned…”

He bought the painting at a store called Randalls in the early 1980s. At the time he was doing construction work in the Houston area, and he would see it every time he purchased groceries. “It was captivating, and somehow I knew it would be important in the future. I saved my money, then walked in one day and purchased it,” he said tentatively.

At this point my heart was racing a little bit. Was the artist someone super famous that I didn’t know about? I mean the provenance was already captivating, so I asked if he still had the receipt. He didn’t, but still…the story was pretty interesting so far, and I was anxious to hear more.

Him: “So I looked up the artist, and they are still living. After a bit of sleuthing I found their email and wrote to them.” (keeping things gender neutral because past experiences have shown me that the internet has eyes)
Me: “Oh yeah, and what did they say?”
Him: “That it’s their work, and they can verify that they put their fingerprint on the paper for verification.”
Me: “Okay, this is all really, really good, and will help us when contacting appraisers and such.”
Him: “Yeah, but maybe we should just get rid of it at a donation store or something.”
Me: “Why? It’s just a painting of an animal on a knoll.”
Him: “Yeah, well, I think there might be more to it than just a nice painting of a mythical animal…let me tell you about the artist and their tie to an event in Dallas, Texas in the 60s…”

Not to sound all conspiratorial, and also this is not a “hook” to get all y’all to keep reading/viewing my work. When we, as a family, decided to tell the story of how this painting was a touchstone for our lives together, my content was taken down from TikTok, Bluesky, the Metaverse, and was throttled on the place formerly known as Twitter. This was shocking to me due to the amount of deep dives into obscure things that were literally the bread and butter of those sites. I mean there were viral videos in the same vein as the artist of the painting. Also, nothing shared was in violation of anyone’s terms. In fact I lead with the story of how this painting felt like a “sign” when my husband and I began dating. (more on that at a later time)

It was just history, a bit of, “well isn’t this a coincidence,” and a lot of, “Hey, we are trying to help the family have some more resources, so we are thinking of selling this painting by [artist’s name], and would love if you could share our story.”

We have a ballpark figure for what this painting might be worth, and have reached out to a few art professionals on how to put it up for sale. It’s just, when we share its provenance (which is very important, btw), things get a little bit wonky.

Another thing for y’all to know is that I didn’t come back to my creative life just to push this story for likes/shares. In the long ago days I was a professional photographer (award winning), and a published poet (also award winning). Alongside that I was a professional “weird lady down the street,” working in the field of health, spirituality, and advocacy (think science based holistic work that was an anathema to gimmicky MLM “wellness” influencers). Toss in the fact that I’ve been “online” since my teens, watching it go from anything goes chat rooms to ID verification. Know that even with VPNs, routing around the world, hiring the world’s greatest hackers, and placing magical talismans around your server — all your work are belong to “us,” with all the digital information camping out in the wires.

What I’m trying to say here is this – it would be helpful for my family if we can sell this painting. Trying to do so made my work get throttled by the all seeing eye of whoever is in charge. Can I use this painting to help promote my stuff? Of course. At the same time it would be nice to just have my work do well on its own. Does it feel like I’m between the devil and the deep blue sea with all of it?

Yes.

Could my family and I see all this as more than what it really is?

Also yes.

It’s just that here in 2025, life seems a little more urgent…and I’m worn out with trying to sit nicely in the corner when there are stories to be told. Rumi suggested that we “be notorious,” so that’s my goal. I contain multitudes, have no idea what I’m doing half the time, and have been so very safe for far too long.

Hopefully this has been as vague as the bots like, but my guess is that it’s going to be throttled yet again. The more this happens the less my content will show up in your feed. Guess that’s just the breaks these days, ‘eh?

Thanks for reading – part 3 will come out tomorrow (hopefully).

Much love,
~ KEU

Currently listening to: Life in a Northern Town by Dream Academy
Currently Reading: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle