Therapy

I had a dream a few months ago that I was a child again trying to get my cousin who committed suicide off the rope.  I began to sink into the floor as I tried to lift his heavy body, feeling completely helpless.  It still hurts.Image

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Stoms a Comming

16×20

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Saint June

16×20 acrylic, paint pens, sharpie, mixed media.  Thoughts?ImageImage

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Mamawism’s

 She would suck air through the gap in her teeth as she became annoyed with gossip or family matters, her full lips pouted each morning as I watched her put on her Revlon Red lipstick before breakfast.  Each night while watching the news she would place my head in her lap and pet my head till I fell asleep, only to wake me up to get ready for bed. The curls in her hair as she held each one in place with tired hands she pinned them neatly in a row before bed,   to me she was not merely a grandmother she was my awe.  My forever beautiful, ever kind, precious, precious Mamaw. 

 

Mamaw has saying’s that for the average Joe sound like gibberish but I feel the need to share them with you all to better help paint a picture of this complex lady.  One of my personal favorites is “Poot Miss Web”, you say that when you have accidentally passed gas, for some reason if you said these words in her house it was acceptable to laugh at the awkwardness those unfortunate beans created. If someone was very beautiful she would say ” She is prettier than a speckled pup”.  When she was exceptionally tired she would say “I’m weak as a box full of kittens”.  IF you REALLY angered her she would scream “JESUS WEPT AND MOSES CREPT AND PAUL SNUCK OUT THE BACK DOOR STEP!”  Say you were cutting a tomato and accidentally nicked your hand, then she would say “Shoot a Monkey!”  If someone you knew made a foolish mistake that you all saw coming it was “God love her” followed by the shaking of her head and more air sucking through her front teeth. 

Now you tell me she aint precious.

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Nevermore 16×20

Used acrylic, paint pens, sharpie, saliva, coffee, mulberry juice, muslin, lighter burns, mixed media.

 

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Part of my nevermore project

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Nevermore

Stunned to see this is still around and looking forward to reworking this in the direction I see the south going today.  I refuse to let a few minorities determine the view of my town to something so plainly STUPID! 

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Mrs. Senile

Mrs. Senile keeps broken glass around her windows to keep the rapist out. Mrs. Senile vacuums her grass every third Wednesday. Mrs. Senile puts No trespassing signs on her tree to keep the Indians out . Kids keep breaking into her bathroom and stealing her old spice. Mrs. Senile knows who you are and where you come from and on good days she will let you have some daffodils from her yard. 16×20 using paint pens, mixed media, saliva, tree bark, crazy juice, and fire

 

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Home is where the heart is reworked

The common thread amongst us all growing up in Toccopola, the discourse that never leaves.  Like a monkey on our back it screeches clanging it’s cymbals together to make you mad or simply drive you further into the dirt.

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What am I missing?

Something is missing from my home is where the heart is, but what?

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