Pimp My Artwork 040: The Three of Swords

"Your art is amazingly sensitive and subtle. Like graceful old laces." Orhal messaged me. 

That message brought me back to flea markets in the summer of 1997.  I bought a black lace shawl for $20. Everyone I showed it to shook their head.  "Oh Katelan, it's ripped, there's a huge gaping hole."

That's the reason I bought it.  I fell in love with it's imperfection.  Why? Because once it was loved.  Holly told me she thought it had a spirit attached to it, then she bought a parasol.  I thought that was a romantic idea.  That night we made the bed for "visitors." Visitors could be physical, spirit, or completely made up.  It was a magical thought really, and the wind blew in softly as the sound of rain and thunder guided us into a gentle slumber.

I woke up with her lying on my chest.  "What are you doing?" I asked, curiously.

"You sleep so soundly.  I can barely hear you breathe and you don't move all night.  I was afraid you stopped breathing.  So I snuck over to you and put my hand near your mouth.  It was slight, your breath was small, so I crawled on top of you and you still didn't move.  So I put my head to your chest and I could hear your heart beat.  And I knew as long as I could hear your heart beat that everything would be okay."

We slept soundly.

A few days ago Sxip sent me a link to a song he wrote years ago.  "Did you write those lyrics?" I asked him.  Now he didn't know this when writing the song but the song has deep roots, roots he did not grow up with. But music speaks it's own language and you can translate it any way you want. I listened to it all day, repeating it over and over. The next day The Three of Swords took shape and for the duration of the painting that song played, over and over, a haunting melody.  It had become almost an exact replica of a dream I used to have years ago.

I remembered living in Greenpoint.  I built what I called a fairy ring in the middle of the room and sprinkled rose water on the floors.  The circle was made of twigs and roses and stones.  I put two white candles and a Saint Michael candle in the middle.  I wrote Holly's name on small slips of paper and put them into envelopes until the name was so small you could no longer see it.  I may have learned this from my Grandmother, I may have learned it from a friend.  All I know is that it was ingrained in my memory. At the end of seven days, I burned the envelopes.  This is a form of release and helps those move on.  I had forgotten about that, until the song.  Music can conjure many things, including the rain.  As I wrote these last few lines, the rain began to pour and that old sweet familiar scent permeated the room.

It's time for me to drift off...

Comments

[Stephanie]

This is not only my favorite painting you've ever done but my favorite interpretation of this card. Beautiful work. I imagine it was cathartic.

[lederm]

Thanks for you share it!!!!!!!