chocolate is a verb

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Tag Archives: garage

found poem: the moon


garage wallMy parents were both prolific in their art-making. In addition to pieces on display, closets were crowded with paintings and sculpture, and, in the basement, my father constructed special storage shelves that held hundreds more.

Dorothy was not averse to reworking a canvas, transforming an earlier image, perhaps preserving some aspect of it, perhaps not. She often worked on several paintings concurrently, one taking its place on the easel, others standing to the side. Arranged by size, unfinished paintings leaned lightly against one another, five or more deep, faces turned to the studio wall.

Sometimes, for reasons known only to her, Dorothy would give up on a painting, finding it toxic or irretrievable. Then she would take it out to the trash bin, stuffing it inside if possible, or leaning it against the can as it had leaned against the studio wall. My father, who built perhaps thousands of stretcher bars and frames for her, otherwise interfered little with Dorothy’s artmaking impulses. But occasionally, smack in the face of her objections, he would rescue one of these discards, pull it from the trash heap and hang it on the wall of the garage, where he could see it from his workshop.

This wall. Dorothy’s rejects. That’s a picture of me on the far left.
. . . . .
There’s a larger view of the painting on the upper right here.


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