"My artwork has always been less about good technique and more about the idea behind the image. And it has never ever been about making money. Am I getting paid for any of this? No. Do I care? Two years of college as a graphic arts major did nothing to improve my technique, or my ambitions. In fact, it did more harm than good. Serious artists would cringe to hear another serious artist say such things. Well, folks, I was never a serious artist. I am, however, a fairly serious conceptual artist, whereby the subject matter and how I perceive it are paramount. I feel my true talent lies in imagination. And I'd never trade good technique for imagination anyday. I like producing unexpected and thought-provoking images whenever possible. Humorous and ironic images are fun to do too as a close second. My art is crude, quaint, cartoon-like, childish and two-dimensional. I don't suppose anyone would ever remark, "Wow, what a beautifully rendered image," about my artwork, and that's okay. However, I would hope they'd say something more like, "What a kooky idea," because that's what it's really all about with me. I find it tedious to put my ideas on paper. I use the erasers more than the lead of my pencils. Always. In truth, I'd rather pass little notes to a "serious artist" so that they can do the actual drawing while I'm freed up to do all the imagining. We'd probably produce some truly impressive stuff together. Or not. I'm not striving to reach a higher plain of artistic existence here. Just a simple "saw your work - liked it," or maybe a "kudos" or "lol" e-mail once in a blue moon would satisfy me. Hey, it's all good.

"The concept of Vinessa (not Vanessa) came to me in a flash of inspiration. At first, I only wanted an appropriate button image for my e-mail link at the Vile Vineyard as the site's editor. I'd already found a leafy-faced pagan image on the web that stuck in my head. It was a male face, though, and I wanted a female one. I am a female, so I wanted my e-mail button to be female. Makes sense, right? So I drew the face, and was pleased enough with it to give her a spot at the bottom of the front page. But after staring at her for a long time one night, I got to thinking she'd make a good mascot for the Vile Vineyard. Why not give guests to the site something unexpected? I'd need to draw full-length images of her doing things. Maybe even give her a personality. Well, I can safely say that she's vain. For example, in the image called "Reflections," Vinessa is seen relaxing near a stream with an enamored vampire. You will note that my pasty-faced lady and everything else but the vampire have reflections on the water. That fact appears to suit Vinessa just fine. Two points for Dracula. BTW, she doesn't like to share mirrors with anyone either.

" Thank you, Terrie, for writing poetry to accompany my art. Vinessa thanks you too.

"I hope all you unsuspecting, vile visitors out there will enjoy viewing these pages as much as I enjoy creating them. To see more of my art, check out my page at the Creator's Club just around the corner."

"When Andrée Gendron invited me to be one of the Vile Vineyard's grounds-keepers, I was, of course, ecstatic! Here was as opportunity to show my devotion to the sentient plant kingdom! I have been listening to the furling and the unfurling of leaves, to the rustling and wending of vines, to the?

While awaiting Mistress Vile Vinessa's various pleasures, I overheard her composting these poems. Some speak of her history, others, her loneliness, still others, betrayals. She has a wicked sense of humor, which usually unfurls during the full moon. When she is alone in the vineyard for too long, however, her thorns definitely seek to draw blood. She loves to create and solve puzzles, so if you have a relationship or lifestyle conundrum, please write to her. I can't be responsible for her replies, though; after all, I'm only one of her grounds-keepers, and only occasionally have her ear.

You get the picture.

Ah,the secrets I've learned."

BIO -

When Terrie Leigh Relf is not casting spells, talking to dead people, or otherwise interacting with multi and trans-dimensional beings and aliens, she lives in South Park, an "arty" community nestled in San Diego, CA. She teaches English at City College, is on-staff at the Writer-on-Line Learning Center, and is a freelance writing coach and workshop facilitator. She pens two columns: "The Mistress of Rhetoric" for The Espresso and "From the Pyre" for MindFire Renewed (where she is also the editor of FireWeed, a literary arts newsletter. You can also find Relf engaged in editorial-type activities at Tales from the Moonlit Path, Hungur, and The Drabbler at Sam's Dot Publishing. Other ongoing projects include working with Andrée Gendron on the space serial, Star Pilot in the 3GM newsletter at the Creator's Club. Her poems, short stories, and articles have appeared extensively both on and off line. You may contact her at tlrelf@cox.net and eventually at http://www.terrieleighrelf.com.

Gotta Ride moon at my back...........the night drenched with possibilities	Inside the inner sanctum of her labyrinth, beneath the feral glare of the moon, within the writhing arms of the vine, she finds and cradles what's left of him, realizing that yes, he did love her after all.	like all legends I am ageless penetrating briar-infested barriers of your mind
Winged Admirer simple things move me...............his heart in my hands	The Anointed One Come spring, she'll choose another; but now, as moon burgeons in winter's night, his touch more luminous than 10,000 stars, she regrets his blood must be spilled to replenish the earth--but just for a moment, a resonate pain-filled moment	cursed to haunt this garden I walk the labyrinth listen to unfurling vines their sap my life's blood
Reflections rippling beneath the moon........my reflection alone	Winter Wine The lovers drink from a single chalice, embrace with a singular fire, just risen from earth damp with purpose? "To the moon!" they cry, then drink again to the ebb and flow of winter, to the ebb and flow of time.	full moon some thing writhes in the castle dungeon
Snake & Griffin	slithering through the garden Marduk of the pronged tongue thorn rents flesh Vinessa's Garden of unearthly delights
Dances With Goblins when the music ends.....................an eerie silence	Such a fecund season, winter In her garden, dark grapes heavy on a labyrinth of vines. She plucks then feeds them to her lovers, gathered on their knees, their mouths perennially open to the flow of blood-red juice
Down by the Black Lagoon her lips to yours..............breathing is really over-rated	brackish water so few bubbles rise to the surface
I Pod ripe pods.................the sound of your screams	my thorns pierce your flesh my tendrilled vines wend through your body my sap flows through your veins	beneath the sod so quickly my lovers decompose
He loved me...He loved me not...
The Garden Swing blood-soaked earth....................spring comes to the garden Gal Pals lady's night.........................time to tear up the town Come again! THE VILE VINEYARD VINESSA'S PAGE