A Saturday morning, an argument with my husband, escaping to my studio to let him know-
-I don't need you--finding scraps of photos of hair and a beautiful little silver/gray/orange panel that I'd painted several weeks earlier. I start dropping and placing the the curved hair images on the orange and silver panel. A face emerges. I find a perfect nose and eye, then another eye made from a leafless tree and a tiny black spot. A mouth that looks like a snake but that is in reality a sliver left over from a photo of a Navajo rug. Last, a neck made from tiny Elvis from an Asian newspaper of he and Kurt Cobain side by side (why they are together I dont know because I can't read Korean).* I hear the door of the studio open. Its my husband, not sure of his welcome. I show him the little portrait. He likes it. I'm pleased. We forget about the argument.
* Kurt ends up in another portrait as ears.
.12x14_2013.jpg)
Poor Bob. Feeling like you're in the dog house is no fun. I can imagine Bob slinking into your private studio space. It took courage to enter. He looked at this composed image and felt secure again knowing all was right with your world. It is a happy image with a touch of whimsy. It had just winked at him. And that is all he needed to know.
ReplyDeleteLove reading about the extended story line, Holly. Good job.
ReplyDeleteAlways wonderful work Holly. I'm thinking of how Joan Miro used his background surface color/texture when I look at your work, it seems important to so much of the stories you tell.
ReplyDelete