Have you ever had a soda
explode all over you?
The Heart of Women is an astounding project and I am grateful to A. Kaye for issuing one little invitation: “Body painting interest you?”
I knew the instant I met A. Kaye that
we had an uncanny connection. The chemistry we had was neither accidental
We visited, shared a few laughs and exchanged a few ideas on photography.
A spearing jealousy and rage fills me that my dreams were thrown out by those
careless hands. The paint becomes the dream. The spotted dabs of it ruin the
pristine virgin paper, unmarked before my rage and pain sullied its innocent
face. Innocent as I once was. Gripped in terror, the colors swirl. I am going
to be lost. I know that hopelessness. It is as familiar to me as a lover’s
touch. It whispers. I answer. I cannot help it. I release myself to the pain.
I have no choice. It steals me away. I am a captive, a slave.
I am alone here. I am alone in this place. No words are spoken in my head other
than my own. A voice murmurs to me. I answer its questions. I answer the truth
but will remember it not.
Flashes catch my eye but I am too lost to process the reason. I work, I create.