sketchy sketch

Hunker Down

progress of new block

newly finished

obsessing

allegory

When the moon was full and red, the monster would mimic the cries of a woman in distress with the hope of luring men into its terrible gaping jaws. Rae wasn’t fooled. She had lost her father to this fate when she was just a baby. On those nights, she would hide under the covers and think of her father while anxiously waiting for the sun to rise.


When times were tough, Ida and Levia picked scrap cotton to help their parents make ends meet. Cotton picking was hard work and the girls would often have blistered and bleeding hands as a result. One day, while the girls were hard at work, an odd looking fellow showed up with a banjo. The stranger started to play and the girls watched with amazement as the cotton turned into the softest clouds.

progress

lino block ready to carve. using color reduction again.


in progress carving of woodblock. almost there.

Red Shoes

as brave as the fishes

in progress resingrave block engraving

split edition of color reduction lino prints

Stillborn

block ready to carve

first print

holds her breath under water
the bubbles make strings of pearls

my mom's hard work of prettying my stringy hair with ribbons and bows was always quickly undone

proofed

The Soft Parts by Rose Polenzani

Hold on, Daddy, to the red boat.
Raise the bodies from the salt sea.
Bullet-heavy, you can let 'em go.
Don't you worry 'bout the big light.

I see him comin' in the darkness.
It's the captain, he's a mean man.
So I dive overboard
and go swimmin' with the cold ones.

And all, all my friends,
they say love, love is hard.
So I hold on to the soft parts.

At the edge of the cape, there's a woman and a man.
There's a woman and a man, and a young girl.
She's a young boy, she's a cray-fawn.
And her love pleats in the white sheets.

I would raise for you all the friends I've left.
I would loose for you all my father's nets.
All my father's knots I would tear with my teeth
for your open mouth and it's sweet relief.

And all, all my friends,
they say love, love is hard.
So I hold on to the soft parts.

Hold my hand, I see the blue
of the police, and they want me
to give it my best ID.

How could I know where my body had gone?
I thought you held me in your arms,
but my head floats with the red boats,
with the flashlights and alarms.

My throat is up and in my eyes
and my tongue cricks back in it's raw room.
Hear me whisper what I told her:
"I'll be rising soon."

And all, all my friends,
they say love, love is hard.
So I hold on to the soft parts.

landscaped

shina block carved and ready to proof

collecting fish songs

I'm a little obsessed with fish