Skeletons
My father was an underwater archaeologist. Because of this my relationship with skeletons may be different than other people’s. When my foot falls, I know there’s someone down there. Having explored several intimate objects in shadow and the relationship between bikes and horns rendered on a wall and how they recall the thing in the hand.
I wondered if throwing light through a skeleton would activate my relationship with my structural self.
Did it? Oh, I don’t know. What did happen was that unexpected things fell on my page. The beautiful curve of a pelvis. A hand. Some spine. For these I felt I needed more interference, so I added plant shadows like the vines growing up a temple. Or plaids and patterns interrupted by a tibia. That way someone could look at the drawings and be with it for a while instead of landing on the body and sticking there.
I gained real affection for Norwegian Cruise Lines, because for three years in a row; when they launched a new ship, they commissioned a skeleton shadow or two for the lido deck when others balked.
