Here’s the whole shebang! The opening reception for the show was pretty awesome and the look and feel of the whole thing was highly appropriate at Loved To Death/Articulated Gallery. It was so amazing to have so much family and friends there, not to mention collectors I had yet to meet, and even some old friends and classmates I hadn’t seen in 12+ years.
You can purchase all of these works thru them at email@example.com All work is framed, 5×7″ paintings are $250 and all 16×20″ are $1200. (several are sold so be sure to check with them)
“Stabby Rainbow Heart” 5×7″ oil on panel
“Black Madonna” 5×7″ oil on panel
“Queen of the Fucking World” 5×7″ oil on panel
“La Madonna” 5×7″ oil on panel
“Black Madonna 2″ 5×7″ (framed) oil on panel
“Black Madonna 2″
And here are my girls with biographies I wrote for them. I should state again — because people get confused — none of these incidents are real. The methods are real, but these women never existed. My brain, it makes things up!
“Blind Deviant” 16×20″ oil on linen
The daughter of a baker, Diana spent her childhood in the markets peddling goods and taking care of her mother. There were no entertainments, no leisure, but this she did not mind. As her eyes began to cloud, the blindness set in as she grew into a striking and provocative figure. The people said her blindness was punishment; she pleasured herself too much, she lent herself to men, that God only blinds those who are perverted. Sensing not a drop of vulgarity in Diana, an old woman from the market knew of ways to improve eyesight. Tea made from the gallbladder of a nightingale, drops of it unto the eyelashes, and satchels with feathers to carry. She took Diana to the church to be cured, but not holy water, rose water, or prayers could change her vision. Politely declining the offers of a needle or knife to her eyes, she consigned herself to her father’s bakery, in the basement ovens away from the public. No one wanted to buy tainted bread from a sexual deviant.
“Carriers and Transference” 16×20″ oil on linen
When the plague arrived in the town of Loxi, the landowners and merchants fled to their villas by the lake; assured that the purity of vast orchards and water would save them. The harbor was sealed, and fires were lit. As the town burned, young Vita, the chief magistrate’s daughter, grew diseased. Fleas were carried on the backs of rats and through the wind. Vita was bathed in rose water. She took it all in stride, receiving her meals locked in the attic while her bed sheets were boiled daily and lavender sprigs were chewed to ward off further infection. It was well known that several physicians had tried a successful method — first with a puppy, and then a frog — of transference. Vita’s favorite cat would do nicely, she was ordered to hold it to her stomach, and transfer the disease unto it. For 3 days she kept it close to her skin, but the cat did not inherit her sickness. And thus, little by little, the footsteps and voices of the home went quiet. The stillness would on occasion be broken by the flutter of leaves on the trees, the breeze on the waters, and the purrs of a black cat.
“Daughters of Maternal Impression” 16×20″ oil on linen.
Marie and Helen
Born as dicephalic parapagus twins into an aristocratic family boasting dynastic continuity (their fortunes, sadly, had not continued as such) the doctors proclaimed they were an unfortunate result of maternal impression: their mother attended a public hanging while pregnant and surely this was the cause of such bizarre monstrosity. While still infants, their mother tried to cut them apart with shears, but this was futile, it was learned, as the girls shared too many bones. As Marie and Helen grew into beauties, word had spread by pilgrims and curious travelers of the two-headed woman. What better way to renew lost family fortunes than to put it on display? This was under the guise of friendly and social intercourse, as well as economics. Their fame grew, as did their wardrobes and estates. Marriage was proposed many times over, but nothing would come of it, and the twins preferred it as such. They became a glittering showpiece, stars of the stage rather than carnival attraction. They died at the age of 28; physicians theorized it was due to their body containing too little blood for both beings to carry on.
“Violets for Heart Veins” 16×20″ oil on linen.
The spoiled and somewhat devious daughter of a provincial magnate, her coughing fits and coloring were said to have been caused by her 5 uncles incessant smoking. Lana inherited her mother’s chest pains, but this the good doctor knew how to handle: smoke of burnt chicken feathers; a diet of radishes, or radishes rubbed on the skin; and teas made from violets. When the symptoms persisted – irritating her uncles who were now forbade to smoke – a surgeon said to have studied The Hippocratic Corpus, was called upon. Administering violets direct to the veins leading to the heart, he assured the family it would have a calming effect. Lana would perish not a month later, the product of a botched surgery, with flower petals lodged in her chest and much blood lost. The surgeon then conceded he had only skimmed The Hippocratic Corpus.
“Skin of the Fox Cures the Pox” 16×20″ oil on linen.
Believing that abundance was a breeding ground for boredom, she resorted to simplify her life when her parents had passed on, leaving her a modest house and income. Opting for an existence of piety, Mary had all the furniture and objects cleared away, until, ‘nothing but surfaces of stone, wood, and few linen sheets remained’ according to the housekeeper. It was anyone’s guess how she contracted small pox in this environment. The servant’s child? A beggar? The priest? When tinctures of yarrow flower did no good, a cure of wolf skin wrapped around the infected areas was ordered. Believing this to be too decadent, Mary opted for a fox instead. It was not the flies or the raw infection that caused her death only days later, but simply a case of bronchitis. The wise women of the town shook their heads, ‘she should have chosen the wolf skin!’
“Sawed” 16×20″ oil on linen.
An ambassador’s daughter with a passion for collecting, Gretchen’s menagerie was near complete when her father brought her the gift of a leopard cub from his travels. It was a sweet little thing, soft and playful, abiding to his mistress when she dressed it up in clothes meant for little boys. But, even the smallest of creatures will start to give in to their nature. It was thought that a flock of geese had spooked him during a game of fetch on the lawns. Gretchen was adamant the leopard knew not what he did, that his claws were bigger than his wits when he mauled her at the legs, dragging her before his final release. No potions, no humours, no herbs or witchcraft could save her. The legs would come off, and all one could do was pray. Pray for the surgeon, pray for the tools, and pray she did not die from enduring it all. Gretchen would never be the same after that, lost to a world of darkness and time, languishing in bed, never speaking a word except a whisper to her pets.