Red Pom Poms

Despite my previous post about purposefully making more art, yesterday I left the house without my good camera. My recently cleaned out satchel doesn’t contain a single seed or stick. I was adamantly NOT looking to make a face. I have way too many waiting to be shared and I don’t need any more. I am trying to get projects and faces already started to completion. And, as if I need an and, I had to get back home and get to work. Lots to do! So what does the neighborhood say to that? It says red pom poms. 

This scenario has happened many times before. I stop and look at the pom poms. I walk past the pom poms. I return. An art practice is not about a list of things to do. That’s ambition. My practice doesn’t care about the camera or the color correction or the caption. My art practice compels me to make a face from pom poms. It’s the compulsion, I value the most. The compulsion is the gift.

Her eyes are dried olives and torn olive leaves

The next day she was still there but looking like she stayed at the party too long. Maybe the second incarnation is more interesting. I like how the olive leaves stopped being the whites of the eye and instead became eye bags. Even sidewalk faces get tired.

4 thoughts on “Red Pom Poms

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