Things We Have Collected

There is a Chinese myth that we are all connected by red thread tied to our ankles, at times feeling the pull of those we care about more than others.  How we are all connected has fueled social media and degrees of kevin bacon.  I am continually fascinated with how people saunter in and out of my life, how we overlap like venn diagrams, how some connections create rope burns with how tightly they are tied while other knots just won't hold.  

This is installed at the PoetHouse.  It is paint, pastel, charcoal, silver string, and red string on paper- about six feet by four feet.

The Owls are Not what They Seem.

"And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon." edward lear

I finished this piece just in time for the Deuce Double Aught Nine Opening at PoetHouse last week...
Though the title refers to a very sinister, yet comical, david lynch series- it is really a portrait of the husband. I mentioned the fact earlier, when I had it about seventy percent completed, but now that it is finished- I figured I would post the final piece.

This one started as a pen and ink last winter, playing with filigree patterns and the idea of idealizing a tangle of foliage. The owl, besides a good nickname, has such a huge amount of myth attached to it- sinister, wise, mystical, spiritual, postal. I researched several stories, thought about the owl's role in the Pooh Stories, in the Potter books, in native american totems, in Labryinth. My favorite reference has to be Lear's story of the pea green boat and the Owl's love for the Pussycat- no matter how mismatched and odd the pairing. And so narrative became portrait.

Little Miss Muffet Got Over It.

Miss Muffet felt a little foolish when she looked back on the day she toppled her stool, running for the hills, after being frightened by such a tiny little thing. Especially after reading Charlotte's Web. Especially after learning to knit. Especially after looking at the myths.

The figure came first in this collage. As I worked on it, again using peacock feathers as the background, all the linear qualities of the feathers and the stitches of the sky started to web together. I realized this was Miss Muffet, and digging in, thought about what she might have truly been scared of. The spider is a symbol of infinity through death and rebirth. Cross culturally it is a symbol of esoteric wisdom and femininity. In Native American Myth, Grandmother Spider brought fire to the world, and also predicts the end of time. As a personal totem, spiders often represent the ability to create one's world in a delicately balanced web, connected to all things. Maybe it was the creative power that was contained in the little creature that was so intimidating to Miss Muffet.

All grown up and sophisticated, this Miss Muffet peacefully lingers in her garden of threads and communicates with the spider, listening.