Marlet told me he “met that bear in Denver, traveling across the U.S. by train.”
Her dark dress shimmers in the chilly bathroom suggesting Joan of Arc, in chain mail, before a Zoom battle.
She was erasing herself physically into an expressionless avatar
Then there’s that lone, feathered creature from a soggy flock — a hood ornament of a jittery bird facing jittery geometry.
An innovation is alive and mutable as it passes from hand to hand.
She saw New York as a “Surrealist” city. With its unfathomable density, extreme juxtapositions, and collective lack of sleep, the city hasn’t changed much.
Gerhard may be the Jack of all Trades but Jack was the King.
A rich raspberry and cream sorbet-colored brushstroke envelops the two-inch surface.
It once hung in the Chicago Art Institute but now is a blurry electrical field full of crackles and pops behind my eyes.
It’s red like memory is red or how, when you close your eyes because the sun is too bright, your eyelids create that deep red shadow.
Some invite you to climb onto their backs like beasts in ancient stories. Some invite you to kneel at their altar of corals and hanging wax hides.
A trio of disparate inspirations that helped me wait out the quarantine as I sheltered in place.