Thanks to Edwin Marin at Art and Soul Tattoo for this beautiful new piece:
It’s located just under my breast, over my ribs, and is a quote from a love letter M. wrote me years ago now, which feels just as true today as it did then. Maybe more so since I consider us partnered in every way that counts. I love it.
Erzulie Freda had been on my mind a lot lately. I even hennaed her vever on my left hand. She is light and grace, beauty personified. Her only desire is adoration and sweetness. The lover and never the bride. In the Yoruban faith she is Oshun, the river meeting breath and coming to life, her veils never far away and the taste of honey left behind in her wake. Still, my mind has been on Erzulie. Her hunger is endless, her joy overpowering. She lives. Nothing stops her and she cannot be contained.
I remember that version of myself. The stride and devouring eyes narrowed to the world. There are times when I can feel her coming back for me and how I dream of that embrace. I call her to me. I’m not afraid to be consumed. I want more. I need more. I will never stop looking for more.
PhoenixErzulie
9”x12”
Done on white ArtSpectrum Colorfix Paper
Read more about Erzulie Freda Dahomey here
As always, click the pics for larger versions.
I painted this bird of paradise with my godfather in mind. It was just after his mother had died and I wanted to give him something beautiful; something that might bring him some small comfort. Yet, the whole time I was working on this piece all I was thinking about was my childhood. A flower just like this one grew from a giant plant on the walkway leading to my grandmother's front door. My grandmother's place where I spent half my time in those days and every horror a young mind should never understand took place. I used to stare out of the big picture window, through the lace curtains, out to that plant from my perch on the antique armchair and think about outside and sunlight. I let my mind go to the smell of fruit in the backyard, ripened by summer heat until bursting and the sound of soles slapping concrete followed by laughter. All that color grew, the length of it drifting into our path, out front of that house. Almost despite us.
Tomorrow's my birthday, so I'm posting this as my latest entry to the Wunderkammen because it reminds me of myself. Dripping with color, despite the dark.
Bird of Paradise
9"x12" on Art Spectrum ColorFix Paper
Terry Ludwig and Unison Pastels
I did a candy apple study while Moody was in surgery a couple weeks ago.
Click the pic to see it in larger scale.
9"x12", done with Unison and Terry Ludwig pastels.
Reference photo via michael king, a pastelist's journal
Text:
-- cigarette smoke and gunpowder, asphalt, tar, and thick ozone like merengue.
I get worried when I'm not near a freeway, interstate, the sounds of traffic...
and I'm a woman that can't even drive.
-- cinderblock divides covered in spraypaint.
Pop. Pop. POP. Paperthin walls equals knowing everybody's business.
That might be why I love my privacy and on the odd occasion, crave a houseparty.
I've had my best sleep in the passenger seat of a car nowhere near
away from
fleeing from
between
home(s).
When I put my hands on your body on your flesh I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency leaving a gloaming skeleton gleaming like ivory that slowly revolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight the way your flesh occupies momentary space the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth to this present time to me I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures to reach up around my neck to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain. — David Wojnarowicz