He was beautiful and brilliant and funny. That jacket still feels like him. Even though it’s gone through the wash. I can’t wear it. It feels too heavy.
“Her series of still lifes are a case in point, “full of texture and shadows, sad and happy at the same time.” A cherub gambols amid toys. A stuffed animal bunny poses with a skull. Her paintings seem to understand ephemera as treasure. There are no people represented, except indirectly, and so there are people everywhere. These are strange, unexpected communities, where the softness of life coexists with the hard and mechanical, where loss is palpable, but so is survival, and where difference becomes a risk worth taking.”
Read the full article, written by my dear friend Chael Needle, here…
December showcases the artwork of…ME… at Tattoo Revival on Trade Street in Winston-Salem, NC. For this show, my still life paintings combine with self-portraits of my tattooed flesh with vintage-inspired tattoos curtesy of John Slater – artist, tattooer, and owner of Tattoo Revival. It’s a collaborative show, in a sense.
Here’s a sneak peak of some of the details…
The Opening Reception is during December Gallery Hop in Winston-Salem, NC on Friday, December 2nd, 7pm to 10pm. Gallery Hop is always a fun and festive occasion! And I’m doubly excited to be showing my work and hanging out with the awesome human beings at Tattoo Revival.
Tattoo Revival is not just an awesome tattoo shop, it’s also an aspiring art gallery. They participate in Gallery Hop every month and highlight a featured artist every month. (As you probably already know if live in the Triad.) They are a great (fairly recent) addition to the arts district – a warm and welcoming shop with friendly staff, creating a kind-of hybrid business: tattoo shop/art gallery that highlights the fact that a good tattoo starts with a good artist, legitimizing the idea of tattoo as art form. I sound like an ad but I love that place!
Everybody loves this painting. At least I’ve never heard any negative feedback about it. Apparently, the rich colors and the energy draw people to it. A couple of little old ladies were enjoying it one day and remarked on the amount of “depth” in it. I just stood there trying not to giggle. The label only revealed part of the title: I’m so much more…
The whole title is: I’m so much more than my sweet magical pussy
A feminist rant in response to a time when most men who approached me only pretended to be interested in my talent, my intellect, what I had to say before promptly hitting on me. A time when, to some, I was not much more than a booty call. This was disappointing to me, to say the least!
As I stood before a blank canvas with all these frustrations overtaking me, I scribbled the phrase with a heavy black oil stick. Then I started applying the color over it. And several layers and days later, I was content with this finished product. Even though I was slightly embarrassed to show it at first.
With all the recent talk about the word “pussy” (one of my favorite words, by the way) I thought it apropos to include mine.
This painting, Miss Kitty and the Not So Cheerful Cherub, is currently in an exhibit in the gallery at Friends Homes Guilford, here in Greensboro, NC called “Our Brush With Tales – An Interactive Exhibit with Five Artists and Two Storytellers.” At the opening the storytellers preformed the stories they created inspired by, or in response to, the displayed paintings.
When I submitted this painting for the show I wondered what the storytellers would see. It was interesting to hear the stories that were told around my painting. But it was almost as if the act of storytelling, the performance, was more important than the story or the actual narrative of the artwork itself.
(You can come up with your own story, if you like, before you read on!)
One story was told from the point of view of the objects: about a bad kitty who harassed all of the objects or characters. The clown, troll, stuffed toy, and cherub were all carefully described along with the hideous acts that were perpetrated on them by the mean kitty. The books on the shelf were described in detail, including a recited poem from the pages of The Cheerful Cherub, as if the storyteller actually opened the book and read it.
The other story was about a reminiscing mother who comes home after dropping her son off at college. She walks into the son’s bedroom and sees the shelf, just as it was left by her son as a child, and describes these sweet, cliché memories of his childhood. And I thought, really? Does that really look like a shelf that would be in a child’s room?
I wondered what the storytellers really got from my painting – if their initial impressions differed from their presented stories, if their stories were censored in any way, or if they were so puzzled by my painting that they had to invent just semi-related stories.
The exhibit includes printed versions of the stories that were told along with the artists’ own statements about their particular painting.
Here’s what my painting is about…
I survived Jeff’s death. We were planning to be married. The morning I found him hanging peacefully, finally free of pain, my whole world was shattered. But I understood. I accepted. That didn’t make it hurt any less. I grieved. And I painted.
I fell in love with Jeff’s things the day I met him, his belongings an extension of who he was. We both had an affinity for old, sometimes obsolete items. He taught me to appreciate things as we found them – usually worn and covered with dust, loved and left behind.
After Jeff’s death, I continued to cherish his things. I looked to them for answers, for comfort. I continued to collect things in his absence. I combined these things to tell our story – various still life scenarios in oil paint like this one: an abandoned stuffed toy sits on a shelf next to his books, daisies wilt in a sunny yellow vase, little troll and clown smile as if remembering a happy time, a silly cherub plays with a noose on his ankle, and a moth hovers briefly, visiting.
On Saturday mornings together we would go scouting to rescue vintage and antique treasures from yard sales and estate sales. These things surrounded us in our studio and in our home. Many would find their way into Jeff’s artwork. Now they find their way into mine.
One day Jeff said, “This is gonna change your life!” and he placed in my palm a small packet of golden watch hands.
He saw me struggle with time, how time taunted me, or rather, how I allowed it to taunt me. He helped me see how to disregard it, to just let things be. I was working on reconstructing time according to my own inclinations toward it, not how it’s typically imposed on us.
I realized that I’d been collecting old clocks. I’m drawn to them – the beauty of the design, the mystery of time that they hold. I wonder what was happening when the hands stopped moving on that particular timepiece.
These concepts of reality and time, you can construct them, stretch them, mold them, into what suits you. And when someone mentions “the real world” or thinks you’re not in it, they have no clue…