Art, Uncategorized

My First Solo Show Post-Stroke

Come one, come all to July’s First Friday at Starry Nites Cafe!

696 University Ave.

Rochester, NY 14607

Mariah Rose’s artwork will be located at the back of the cafe.

She will be debuting her new abstract color series, her MF Doom painting, as well as showing some oldies but goodies.

Her work will be up through July but the event corresponds with First Friday and Starry Nites is in the Neighborhood of the Arts (NOTA), near the Bachelor Forum and the Memorial Art Gallery of the University of Rochester (MAG), down the road from the Anderson Arts Building, the Village Gate, and The Hungerford.

Prints, buttons, stickers, etc. will be for sale.


Handmade buttons for sale at event:

$2 each, 2 for $3, 3 for $4, 4 for $6, 5 for $8


Laminated vinyl “Survivor” 3″ x 10″ stickers for sale at event:

$8 each, 2 for $10

skull watermarked

“Skull” print, 8.5″ x 11″ signed and numbered (w/o watermarks):

$35 each, 2 for $60

amelia watermarked

“Amelia Earhart” print, 8.5″ x 11″ signed and numbered (w/o watermarks):

$35 each, 2 for $60

Self-Portrait Collage

“Keep Moving Forward” self-portrait digital collage

11″ x 17″ signed and numbered (w/o watermarks):

$35 each, 2 for $60

Heart Water-marked

“Let Your Heart Shine Like the Sun” postcard 5″ x 7″ signed and numbered (w/o watermarks):

$10 each, 2 for $18


Art Opening w/Music at Skylark Lounge

40 S. Union St., Rochester

Saturday, October 1st

7pm to Midnight


Mariah Rose, Roman Cobb, and Harold Copp’s Drawings, Paintings, and Installations


Musical Performances by Veluxe and Fox 45

$5 at the Door

              The word “Überlebende” is German for “Survivors.”  The root word, “lebe,” means “live.”

Mariah, Roman, and Harold are all survivors and artists local to Rochester, New York.

buttons-for-skylark Handmade buttons for sale at event:
$2 each, 3 for $5, 6 for $10

survivors-guilt-display      Laminated vinyl 3″ x 10″ stickers for sale at event:

$8 each, 2 for $10, 5 for $35

skull watermarked

My first left-handed drawing with gradation, post-stroke.

8.5″ x 11″ signed and numbered prints (w/o watermarks) for sale at event:

amelia watermarked

Left-handed monochromatic portrait acrylic painting of Amelia Earhart

8.5″ x 11″ signed and numbered prints (w/o watermarks) for sale at event:


This is Our Youth July 24th-July 31st A Week of Rochester Youth and the Arts at the MuCCC

This is Our Youth

This is Our Youth: A Week of Rochester Youth and the Arts

Artists Reception for Mariah Rose and Roman Cobb

(MuCCC Gallery opening, 142 Atlantic Ave., Rochester, Monday, July 25th 7 PM):

The MuCCC Gallery will host an opening of the work of two Monroe Community College students. Mariah Rose’s personal artwork is about her struggle with identity since a stroke in October 2013. Roman Cobb is heavily influenced by Hip Hop Culture, New York City Graffiti, and the Mannerism Style. The show has been curated by Kathleen Farrell, Director of MCC’s Mercer Gallery. The opening will be at the MuCCC Theater gallery.

My Artist Statement

Mariah Rose’s Artist Statement
Copies available at event

Roman's Artist Statement

Roman Cobb’s Artist Statement
Copies available at event

logo butt

Mariah Rose’s logo
Handmade buttons for sale at event:
$2 each, 2 for $3, 4 for $5

mouth butt

Mariah Rose’s mouth graphic
Handmade buttons for sale at event:
$2 each, 2 for $3, 4 for $5

flowers butt

Roman Cobb’s homage to our Flour City
Handmade buttons for sale at event:
$2 each, 2 for $3, 4 for $5

teeth butt

An x-ray of Roman Cobb’s teeth
Handmade buttons for sale at event:
$2 each, 2 for $3, 4 for $5

skull watermarked

My first left-handed drawing with gradation, post-stroke.

8.5″ x 11″ signed and numbered prints (w/o watermarks) for sale at event:

amelia watermarked

Left-handed monochromatic portrait acrylic painting of Amelia Earhart

8.5″ x 11″ signed and numbered prints (w/o watermarks) for sale at event:


Art Show

Artists Reception for Mariah Rose and Roman Cobb
MuCCC Gallery opening
142 Atlantic Ave., Rochester
Monday, July 25th
7 PM

Art, Politics, Science

Diving Head-First into That Rabbit-Hole

Art. Science. Politics . . . (cont’d from January 31st, 2015)

In diving head-first into that rabbit-hole, I’ve learned that it’s okay to play devil’s advocate. I love hearing the different sides to everything, even if I don’t agree.

I tried using an anonymous pen name to blog about more sensitive subjects. The reason being, I thought, if people didn’t know it was me (Mariah Rose), they wouldn’t be afraid to say what they were really thinking about whatever the subject was, and I, at the same time, wouldn’t feel personally attacked by those who didn’t agree with me or are negative for the sake of being negative.

I’ve always been wary of what I make public, to a fault, I think. I’m afraid of offending people, stirring up controversy, or coming off as uneducated.

Welp, I can’t worry about things like that. Sure, I don’t want to stick my foot in my mouth or be aggressive with my opinions, but in having a stroke, I lost my voice for a time. My cognition went out the window. I’m just, now, feeling comfortable with my thoughts, after a year and a half. I’ll never take that for granted, again. I still have far to go, but look at how far I’ve come!

My blog at has been geared toward my recovery and helping others realize that when they feel alone, someone, somewhere out there, is going through something similar, or, at least, can empathize. I’d like to keep it that way but, also, write about subjects that are bothering me. So, like everything I do, I thought long and hard about what pseudonym I’d use and, then, thought and slept on it some more.

My name is Mariah Rose. When choosing a pen name, I wanted to pay homage. You see, “Rose” is a family name. My mother’s name is Rosemary and I owe most of what and where I am to her. The first name of my new pseudonym will be, “Rosalie,” my great-grandmother’s (on my mother’s side) name. I have very fond memories of visiting during the summers of my early years. She was a stoic, polite, witty, well-read, independent woman. She always had her freezer stocked with Klondike bars and never ran out of after-dinner mints.

Thinking of her make me, both, nostalgic and want to dig deeper into the mystery of my heritage. She and my great-grandfather, who was a WWI veteran, raised three soldiers who fought in WWII, who all made it home. I think that’s pretty cool.

She was the first person I remember, consciously having to mourn but I have fond memories of when she died too. Yes, it was sad but she was celebrated because she was so loved. She brought people together, even in death.

For my pseudo-last name, I choose, “Knox.”

Knox is the last name of Mickey and Mallory, some the main antiheroes in one of my favorite movies, “Natural Born Killers.” I use the term “antihero” because they’re, at times, both protagonists AND antagonists. The movie is a commentary on how the media sensationalizes violence and crime. It has so many layers. Yeah, it’s violent but it goes so much deeper than that; from Oliver Stone’s directing to Quentin Tarantino’s character development to Robert Richardson’s unparalleled cinematography to Trent Reznor’s work with the soundtrack, etc., no stone (no pun intended) was left unturned. It’s deals with the inner struggle with personal demons, PTSD, corruption in the legal system, nature vs. nurture, again, etc. It was about the 90s but, I think, it’s relevant even now, 20 years later. (,,

When I post under Rosalie Knox, I’ll be posting my opinions based on my life experiences. It may stray from the positivity of “Mariah Rose’s Ramblings.” That’s why I’m making a separate blog. “. . . I consider myself (Mariah Rose) [to be], sort-of, a “public figure”; a young woman who THOUGHT she was on a righteous path (or, at least, getting there) that was cut short in the blink of an eye, making her recovery public, ensuring she’d get the support she needed, while reaching out and encouraging others in similar situations.” (, Art. Science. Politics., January 31st, 2015.) Posts under Rosalie Knox will NOT be an attack on anyone or their opinions. However, I may write about things that you don’t necessarily want thrust in your line of site. If you want my opinion, read what I write. If you couldn’t care less, that’s okay too. I’m giving you a choice, that’s all. I’m just imploring you to think before you decide and that you always be willing to listen to other people’s points of view. You have the ability keep evolving as circumstances change. Change is inevitable. Be flexible.

Feel free e-mail “me” at to open up some cyber-dialogue. This will be opportunity to type privately about what I write. I’d ask you not to abuse this gesture. I WILL NOT respond to hostility and I WILL NOT give out my phone number.

Blogs will be at:

Snippets will be at:

Art, Change, Learning

BREAK the Cypher

I spent my New Year’s Eve, going through my artwork from high school up through college; some after too. The idea was to refresh my memory as to what influenced me at different stages in life; what motivated and moved me. I wanted to ramble about art and not leave anything out. I still plan on doing that but I came across something I forgot about. Something along similar lines but not what I was looking for.

I forgot I used to use writing as an outlet. I remember, I took a creative writing class but I didn’t know I ever wrote anything relevant or that I attempted to share.

In my hoarding, I found three issues of “Galerie,” a yearly student-run publication, put out by my high school. I was on the staff for two years. I had, at least, one visual piece, as well as one piece of writing, in each issue I found.

I’d like to share a piece I passed off as “fiction” in my senior year. Bare with my eighteen-year-old self, as I’ve had 12 years to fine-tune my “voice,” grammar, vocabulary, etc.

“She looks into the mirror stares into the face of a person longing for change. She is a girl of eighteen with dark hair and blue eyes. She has a pale complexion and her lips are rosy pink. As she looks into her own eyes, she is distracted by the leaves outside the window, rustling as the wind whistles through them. They remind her of how restless she is. She has been a part of a twelve-year routine that she has wanted to end for so long. The end is so near but so far away. She covets a new beginning. She can’t wait to start over. She wants to cut ties with all those surrounding her. They are all so boring because they are all the same. She wants to be with people have goals. She wants to be with people who are like her. She’s different. She likes being different but she’s so lonely. She’ll be glad to go. She won’t cry when she does. She’ll smile. She will be sad to leave some people because even the important ones in her life right now might not feel that she is important enough to stay in touch with. She knows, however, that the people who care about her most will always be there.

“She hopes that some of those people will support her when she begins a new life for herself. She is so afraid of what the future has in store for her but she welcomes it with open arms. She will rise to any challenge that faces her and conquer it so that she may do what she wants to do and become what she wants to become. She’s not sure what she wants to do or become, but she’ll know when the time is right. What she does know is that she wants to succeed. She know that she is capable of accomplishing anything that her heart desires. She is intelligent and interested in so many things.

“Some people might not believe this, though. When she tries to speak about what she is feeling, she sounds stupid and ditzy (for lack of better words). She knows what she wants to say but struggles to get it out. Her cheeks become flushed and she stutters. When she finds the perfect words to say, she often forgets them before they escape her mouth. She fidgets and slumps. She has horrible posture. She’s not confident in herself and in order to counter her nervousness around people, she talks and talks. Actually, she babbles. She realizes she does it but she needs to feel less nervous somehow. The only way she can truly express herself, though, is on paper. The only way she can say what she wants to say without interruption is on paper. She wishes she had more time for her paper, whether it be lined or Strathmore. She wishes she had more time but she’s tired. When she thinks she can finally rest, there is something else to be done. She relishes the thought of a world where money is no object and time is on her side. If she could, she would spend all of her time utilizing that paper. She is sick of work and school and anything else that gets in the way of her and herself. She wants everything to be finished. She wants to be settled in a house with the perfect job. She wants to be in love. She wants to have time.

“In the middle of her thought she blinks and realizes that she has been staring into those blues eyes for quite some time now. She has been caught in her own gaze for what seemed like an eternity. She rubs her face with her hands and sighs. She looks her own face over a few timed and asks herself those age-old questions, “Who am I? What is going to become of me?” We’ll see.”

Again, I wrote that when I was a senior in high school. Sure, I want to pick it apart and edit it but the nature of the content would be similar. Instead, I’ll take this opportunity to man-up, because the character I was describing was, clearly, 110% ME. I was trying to express myself while attempting to be, somewhat, cryptic. Some of my favorite authors (namely Chuck Palahniuk and Tom Robbins) “taught” me to use my sense of humor and not be constrained to the “rules” in writing. I cling to them because I’ve found that, like my influences in art and music, I respond and relate the creative people who aren’t afraid to let their personalities shine through in their work.

I’m going to address each of my relevant fears and points, and turn this depressing, albeit optimistic, piece, into a lesson.

When I first wrote that passage, I was a naive, gullible virgin, who had never ventured outside of Rochester, NY with anyone except her immediate family. I’d never been in love and was completely lost and lonely.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. Some of it was my own doing. Other times, I didn’t know any better. Sometimes, it was just a matter of timing and/or placement. Whatever happened (or happens), I’ve always try to learn and grow from it; evolve.

I’m neurotic and methodical, which can be blessings or curses. I think EVERYTHING through. When I say, “I don’t care.” It’s not because I’m indecisive. It’s because I, genuinely, don’t care because the outcome won’t have that much bearing on the bigger picture.

Honestly, I’m not sure how much I want to share about my past but I will say, my stroke is the single-most difficult thing I’ve had to deal with in my entire life. However, I’m doing just fine a year later because of all I’ve experienced up to this point.

A cliche I use once in awhile is, “If I knew then what I know now . . .” Listen, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s kind of a joke to me. It’s one of those *wink wink, nudge nudge* types of things.

I tattooed over my knees, “No regrets. No worries.” I do worry a-lot-a-bit but I’m forever trying not to. Life is a lot of trail and error. Sometimes, you get second chances. Sometimes, it’s one and done. Sometimes, people hurt you. Sometimes, you hurt others. I’m sincerely sorry for the people I’ve hurt. But, at the same time, I don’t regret getting hurt because it’s made me who I am. You have to think about each situation individually because, even if you’re experiencing deja vu, no one is exactly the same. If you don’t think things through, when you can, you’ll never grow and the results will send you around that same vicious cycle.

That’s why I’m analyzing my priorities from 12 years ago; because I want to see how I’ve grown and see what’s no longer important and what I still need to work on.

Here it goes!

I’ve always been restless. I’ve realized that I’ll always be restless. I can’t sit still for too long. I love, love, love traveling. Just a change of scenery for even a day satiates my nomadic tendencies, if only for a little while. I’ve found, if I don’t change things up a little bit, every once in awhile, I get stir-crazy.

A friend shared a quote by Robert Holden. It states, “Beware of Destination Addiction . . . a preoccupation with the idea that happiness is in the next place, the next job and with the next partner. Until you give up the idea that happiness is somewhere else, it will never be where you are.” I understand where Holden is coming but part of the reason I’m forever restless, is because I’ll never be satisfied. Another friend and I were talking the struggle with being an artist. You’re your own worst critic and mortal enemy. For artist like us, nothing we create is ever “good enough.” If we created THE perfect piece, we’d implode and there wouldn’t be anything left for us to achieve; nothing to work toward. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Yes, I need to choose goals that are reachable but I’ll never stop trying to do better; to BE better. That mindset has gotten me through my recovery so far. I’m not striving for absolute happiness. I’m trying to be content, moment to moment. Like MOST HUMANS ON THIS PLANET, I have good days and bad days. You just need to seize the days you can. If you have a bad one, dust yourself off, and try again.

“You pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick friends’ nose.” Well, I “pick[ed] . . . friends” who would let me “pick [their] nose[s],” as it were. But, seriously, I have so much love surrounding me . . . I’m so grateful. It’s been hard to let people go who hurt me and there’s a lot of disappointment involved in that but the feeling passes, eventually, and the love and support of those ones who stick around, fill up those voids. I still get lonely from time to time but I think it’s another part of the human condition.

I’m not afraid of the future anymore. I still maintain, “[I] will rise to any challenge that faces [me] and conquer it . . . [I want] to succeed. [I] know that [I’m] capable of accomplishing anything that [my] heart desires. [I am] intelligent and interested in so many things.” And I, once again, have so much support that it doesn’t matter if I talk slow or stammer. People wait to hear what I have to say. Also, I’m just as forgetful as I ever was, if not more-so. I’m working on using my resources and tools to make things easier, memory-wise (See “Memory Lost, Memory Found, Repeat.”

I still get nervous but I’m working on that too but my “babbling” and “fidgeting” has become part of my awkward charm. People who don’t appreciate it . . . well, ya know.

I’m still working on time-management. I’ll probably never get it right but I’ll always keep trying.

I’ve changed my mind about “settling in a house.” I don’t EVER want to be tied down. There’s no such thing as the perfect job, although tattooing comes wicked close, for me.

As far as love goes, there are no rules and it’s painful. With romantic love, comes stress, sex, insecurity, tests of trust, etc. I’ll probably never figure out that whole mess but what I do know is that I can’t worry about that right now anyway. I have too much on my plate. I feel that in order to truly be with someone, you BOTH have to be content with yourselves.

With that, I suggest making a list of what makes you content and if you’re not one thing . . . start.

My List:

My own space


Working out

Doing research




Decompression time

Being creative

Feeling healthy

Being around people I love, who love me back

Mariah Rose’s Ramblings:

E-mail me if you want to comment on my “ramblings” but aren’t comfortable doing it publicly. I’d ask you not to abuse this gesture. I WILL NOT respond to inappropriate inquiries and I WILL NOT give out my phone number.

This e-mail address is meant to help people, survivors and caregivers, alike.

I’m not a medical provider. I’m not a therapist of any kind. I’m just a survivor whose willing to share.

Art, Identity, Tattoos


I am Mariah Rose and I chose as my identity to be a tattoo artist.

What this meant for me was my clients always came first. Many of my life’s decisions came with that in mind or, at least, anticipating my future clients’ needs.

I think my first life altering decisions in regard to tattooing was leaving my fiancé and making a conscious effort not to bear children. I knew that tattooing would take all of my gumption because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I knew my fiancé would make a wonderful father someday and I didn’t know when I would be ready to be a mother and that wasn’t fair to him. When I chose to do something I put all of my eggs in one basket. Motherhood is no joke to me and tattooing isn’t either. So, for the first time, I chose tattooing.

The second decision was when I chose not to be full-time at my job. I turned down a promotion to assistant store manager to focus on what I needed to succeed in tattooing.

What I did do was finish school. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up when I started college in 2003. I started tattooing in 2006. I graduated from Monroe Community College with a degree in Visual Communications, in other words advertising, that year, ‘06. I graduated from SUNY Geneseo in 2008 with a degree in Art History with concentrations on painting and drawing. Why did I bother, you ask? To cover my bases. Not only did I learn some valuable skills but I laid the groundwork for a career in case tattooing didn’t work out. In my studies, I learned to use Photoshop which created shortcuts with design. The art history provided the knowledge to seek out references. My drawing and painting classes helped my technique.

Anything I do or see I try to learn from. Whether it be a class, experiences, a lover, or an enemy. This way, I’ll always be evolving, forever changing.

So, I spent from 2006 on, learning to tattoo; taking little pieces from everywhere I worked and who I worked with. I learned the basics from a few people during my apprenticeship. Then, the floodgates opened. I attribute being able to pack in solid black into a piece and discovering the perfect colors for a harvest moon to one person. I’m grateful that another person took my machine out of my hand and showed me that it’s okay to go deeper. It was specific lessons like those and trial and error that kept me on my toes in the beginning. Then, I began honing my craft and making it my own; all the while, learning, growing and evolving.

Technique isn’t the only thing I’ve taken from tattooing. I’ve also had to learn lessons the hard way. Those who know me well, know that I’m gullible and too quick to trust people. Tattooing gave me a harsh dose of reality real quick and, as with everything, I adapted. For instance, I learned not to work for “free” because I can easily be taken advantage of. There are the people who do it on purpose and you might not even see it coming until it’s too late. And then, there are the people who don’t realize they’re doing it. Maybe you both catch on and correct it. Maybe you don’t. The point is, it’s up to me to lay some ground rules. Sometimes, they don’t need to be spoken and, sometimes, they need to be spelled out. It’s also up to me to have the tact to know the difference.

Another lesson is: don’t shit where you eat. That’s one that’s universal, though.

Tattooing is very drama filled if you aren’t careful. Some of the best advice I’ve gotten is: ‘’Concentrate on your art. The rest will follow.” It’s easy to get wrapped up in what everyone else is doing. I’m still guilty of placating to everyone around me but it’s about finding a balance.

One of the things I’ve found with tattooing is I’m exposed to people from all walks of life. Now I’m no stranger to soccer moms, bikers, Marines, nurses, reformed drug addicts, pizza delivery dudes, and everyone in between. I know alcoholics, narcissists, sociopaths, models, and just your average Joes. And you know what? I love it. Not only do I learn something from the tattooers I work with but I learn something from every person who sits in my chair. I’ve become a student of the world. I’ve always said, if I feel like there’s nothing left to learn I should quit while I’m ahead.

Did I mention, I love my job? Not in so many words but I do. I love being able to make people happy. I love being able to memorialize a person or event and trying out new colors or techniques. I love being able to pick someone’s brain that I admire. I love to travel and the atmosphere at conventions. I love being in my own space and surrounded by my knick-knacks and my books and putting a piece of myself in everything I do. My clients can see that, and are so grateful because I’m grateful too. I’m grateful for everything.

I always said I would stop tattooing if I physically couldn’t do it anymore; like if I got arthritis or something. Imagine my surprise when I had a stroke at 28 years young.