impossible light two (diptych)

Title: impossible light two
Media: watercolor, pencil, archival pen
Surface: 140# cold press
Size: unknown

This one is fairly old. It was well after the worst breakup of my life and years before my sleep apnea was diagnosed.

I’m eternally fascinated by horizons, interior landscapes, the way that light interacts with things and for reasons that are difficult to explain, i find that i never am quite able to render things in a way that rests comfortably with reality.

I don’t mean to but whether its rendering a coffee mug or where walls converge or how light falls on things, there’s this unintentional tension that happens. I used to fight it but have long since given up on that battle, deciding instead to explore that separation from reality and see where it takes me.

impossible light two didn’t start off being autobiographical. I simply wanted to play with some space, twist some light and distort things. But somewhere, somehow my memories of the only woman i’ve ever lived with (romantically)- a woman named Michelle- swarmed and consumed me.

Then on another piece of paper, i wrote something- and the two seemed to be part of each other.

There were those february
nights when the moonlight
painted your skin
the color of bruised porcelain

The curve of your stomach,
the rise of your breasts
and the way your hair
spilled over the pallid sheets
like a murder of ravens.

The taste of your skin,
the song of your laughter,
the brilliance of your smile,
the poetry of your hands.


And i miss you.


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