Snake Shack

Close your eyes as I take you to a place that will give you chills as the tiny hairs on your neck raise.  Your walking down a path covered in sage grass tickling you feet as you walk through the gravel and muck to an abandoned house deep in a cow pasture.  The smell of hot patties and dandruff hits your nose as you enter the walkway to the old shack.  It’s been long forgotten by it’s previous owners and the visitors of the home, half crazed religious drunks carve strange messages of Jesus’s coming and broken circles on the paneling of the breeze way.  They say you don’t come out there in the warmth of the day for that is when the snakes come out to sun themselves.  Fat long bodies wriggle there way from the picturesque pond past the barbed fence out back yonder way from the rickety ole home.  Your crazy to come this way on your own they say, but to me it’s home.   Used bark from a tree out back, acrylic, paint pens, sharpie, and saliva on a 16×20Image


About toccopolasam

Artist Statement: I'm an outsider artist of women's traditional arts. I've been categorized both as a folk artist and south Gothic artist. I'm not sure either category fits me, but I know my art is informed by a feminine gaze. I distrust labels of this kind. Like my grandmother sewing, I do this because I consider it beautiful. I believe in making art that has a narrative, one that creates an ambiance contributing to the visual effect of the work. Like all Southerners raised in the specter of Lost Cause discourse, memories haunt me and my work as an artist. Although southern Gothic is generally rendered in ockers and gray because of multiple layers of decay on the genre, I use garish, Madi Gras colors in defiance of the myth that Scarlett O Hara is alive and well and living in Toccopola. My art searches the landscape for signs of the new south, I'm trying to scrape off the Mary Kay and show the real face however pock-marked of lady antebellum.
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