by Marty Coleman | Dec 4, 2016 | Marty Coleman, Sketchbook History Tour |
The Poem About My Senses
I have a poem in my head,
Not fancy or complete.
Actually pretty basic,
mundane but pretty sweet.
Don’t know what it’s all about,
That’s the point of it I think.
But I know It’s sort of funny,
And includes the color pink.
It includes the smell of coffee,
And maybe the passage of time.
I don’t really remember,
But it’s simple in it’s rhyme.
It has an image of windows,
With sun filtering the air.
That flows all around me,
And lands on my hair.
There is a taste of a croissant,
Somewhere in the verse.
And the texture of an almond,
as it falls into my purse.
That’s all I remember,
Of the poem within my head.
It makes me glad to to be alive,
Instead of being dead.
Drawing and poem © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
This drawing was done at the Glenpool, Oklahoma Starbucks.
It is available for purchase, either the original for $100.00, or a print for $25.00
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by Marty Coleman | Dec 2, 2016 | Friendship - 2015, Marty Coleman |
Purchase the original drawing | purchase a print | matte and frame available.
The Other Thing I Did
While I was drawing on napkins for my daughters back in the 90s I also was doing something else. I was saying goodbye to them at the door. Each day I would say pretty much the same thing. I would say I love you then I would say “Don’t forget, Make good friends and keep good friends.” Why I came up with that particular phrase, I don’t know. But I would say it every day. And I meant it.
Community
What I wanted for them was a growing, vibrant community. A community doesn’t happen without friendships, a growing community doesn’t happen without new friendships and a vibrant community doesn’t happen without diverse friends. That is why I said that to them.
The Purpose of Diversity
When I say diverse, I don’t mean you have to have a rainbow of skin colors to prove it. I think that would help but only insofar as it’s an outward visual of what is an internal diversity. In other words, the important thing isn’t that your friend has dark brown, red, orange, alabaster or freckled skin. What is important is that you are experiencing, at least some of the time, a person with a life experience different than yours. A life experience you can learn and grow from knowing AND that your friend can benefit from by knowing you.
Courage Over Fear
How do you gather such friends? Yes, by going out into the world. But that isn’t enough. You have to go out into the world with courage and an open heart or else you will simply be carrying your fear around with you and will miss meeting those new friends.
Drawing and commentary © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
Quote by Yours Truly
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by Marty Coleman | Nov 26, 2016 | Friendship - 2015, Illustrated Short Stories, Marty Coleman |
The Blue Woman and the Red Bird
One day the blue woman was walking to the edge of the volcano so she could jump in and kill herself. On the way she came across a red bird standing on a dead branch near the trail she was on. The red bird started talking to the blue woman and what she said made her cry. They weren’t tears of sadness but tears of joy because what the red bird said was that she was lonely being the only red bird in the area and wanted someone to talk to who would understand her. She saw the blue woman walking by and since she had never seen a blue woman before she figured she had to feel pretty lonely as well. She was right. The blue woman felt very lonely. But thanks to the red bird noticing her and saying something she didn’t feel that way anymore. The red bird and the blue woman became great friends and accompanied each other everywhere together until the end of their days. And they were never lonely again.
The End
Drawing and story © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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by Marty Coleman | Nov 15, 2016 | Marty Coleman, Sketchbook History Tour |
I’ve been drawing in sketchbooks for many decades now. I sometimes go back and revisit older books just to see what I did or to show others. Recently I did this with a series of sketchbooks from 2000 on. I discovered a number of drawings I wanted to work on more, mostly in coloring and shading. Here are 4 drawings from this endeavor.
If you know my recent work you know I often write short stories to accompany my drawings. In these drawings though the stories or observations were written directly on the page. I specifically went for stream of consciousness oriented narratives with long run-on sentences that imitated the way I actually experienced and thought about the moment.
HOOPS
‘Hoops’ 2003-2016
The classy student studying with the grey eyeshadow and glimmery lips while her boyfriend who looks young and too young for her reads a magazine with three bug bits on his ankle in a row looking like a constellation and she uses a blue and red pen & huge hoop earrings, the biggest i’ve ever seen with her left hand and very small delicate fingers with no polish in Norman, Oklahoma on a summer’s night that threatens to rain while the two girls behind her wear red Sooner shirts and read & talk about the young star who is too thin and I draw instead of read the manual on the class I am here for while I catch a bright pink purse pass by a tall guy sitting with yellow.
VEINS
‘Veins’ 2003-2016
The tall thin woman at Panera with great veins reading her bible and taking notes and eating a bagel and ignoring that I am drawing her while she drinks coffee and contemplates divorce on a hot summer morning in Tulsa.
SPLOTCHY
‘Splotchy’ 2003-2016
The woman looked like she had been crying; splotchy skin, red eyes & nose but she had not.
RUBY LIPGLOSS
‘Ruby Lipgloss’ 2004-2016
The woman with the ruby lip gloss and zig zag parted hair looking at the person in the door and wondering if he noticed her perfume when he passed as she made a call to her boyfriend to ask if he picked up mascara for her.
Drawings and stories © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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by Marty Coleman | Nov 9, 2016 | Democracy, Marty Coleman |
My father and my mother taught me a very important thing about electing our President.
That is always, no matter if your side wins or loses, hope the best. Hope that the new President is better than what you think he is. Hope that the actions aren’t as severe as his rhetoric has been. Hope that the gravity of the office will infuse this person with a conscience you don’t believe he possesses. Hope that our system of government, with its checks and balances, will wear down the rough edges so people aren’t hurt by his actions and words.
I hope these things, not because I am naive, but because I believe it’s the best way for me personally to move forward as a citizen of the United States.
What do you think?
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by Marty Coleman | Jun 14, 2016 | Love and Hate - 2016, Marty Coleman |
Buy the Original | buy a Print
What Won’t Change
I believe that if nothing happened in Congress to legislate responsible gun regulations after Sandy Hook, nothing will happen now , after Orlando. I think that is terribly sad but I do think it is true.
What Can Change
But, I do believe there is something we can do every day. And it can actually have a profound effect, and that is to examine what builds hate up so much that a person believes they are justified in committing mass slaughter (or individual killing). What is it that brings them to that point? and most importantly, who and what can help them never get to that point?
Brain Illness vs ‘Normal’
Obviously someone who is mentally ill (more accurately, has a brain disease) is one sort of case who takes a lot of effort, in informal and formal environments, to get help and resolution. But what about the many who would not be classified as mentally ill if they had a formal evaluation? What about those who are law-abiding citizens, who can by guns legally, who also happen to be very angry or depressed, or jealous, or anxious, or bitter or any number of feelings and emotions that are taking them to a very dark place? What can we do about and for those people?
Helping
How do we help them lay down the burden of anger and hate? First and foremost it always starts with our own behavior. We have to be the example of someone who has already done that and continually does it. Then we have to be willing to see others clearly, to not make excuses when someone is angry, to not enable them to continue, but to stop and confront them in love and compassion, not in judgment, letting the person know you are on their side and in their corner wanting the very best for them. If we don’t feel safe confronting them, then we need to find friends, family or professionals that might help. But in many cases it’s really simply about asking them about their feelings and talking it through with them, giving them hope they can get beyond the hate they have. It’s not a simple process, but it can be done.
Guns Again
One of the arguments I hate the most from gun advocates is the, ‘Hey, if they don’t have guns, they will use knives’ argument. I think it is absurd and wrong. BUT, it does point the way to something that is true, and that is hate exists before violence, just as Jesus taught. Murder starts in the heart as hate. Even if we did have effective gun control (which we should) we would still have hate. What we do with that, how we transform it into love, is the essential work that will never go away, no matter how many or how few guns we have.
Drawing, commentary and quotes © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 5, 2016 | Marty Coleman, Sketchbook History Tour |
Chapter One – Claire
When Claire the Clarinetist was finished playing she could have chosen to leave the altar as do many of the other orchestra members. But the orchestra was arranged today so that she was facing directly towards the congregation (usually she is facing sideways) and she thought it would be fun to just sit there and see what the pastor sees every week.
Chapter Two – NO
The first thing she noticed was the raven-haired woman in the front row trying to control her kids. Her husband was also there but he was having no interaction with any of them. She had seen this happen again and again with this family. The mother had to do the hard work of interacting with the kids constantly and the father did nothing. She wondered if they would ever be friends. She thought, “No.”
Chapter Three – YES
As Claire looked at them longer she realized something else. The mother was getting the hugs and the smiles from the kids. The father was not. He may have been missing the hassle, but he was also missing the love. Now when she wondered if they would ever be friends, she thought, “Yes.”
Chapter Four – I DON’T KNOW
She then cast her eyes on an elderly man. He looked alert, with sparkling eyes. He had on a very nice sweater. She wondered about him, who he was, who he had been. She imagined him as a young man. She wondered if they would have been friends back when he was her age now. She thought, “I don’t know.”
Chapter Five – I KNOW
Her attention was pulled back to the sermon. The Pastor was telling a joke. It went on way too long and when the punch line finally came it was terrible. The whole congregation laughed though. All except the elderly man. He rolled his eyes. That is when she realized she would have to go meet him because they would be good friends. She thought, “I know.”
Chapter Six – MAYBE
She looked up into the balcony and noticed a striking blonde woman. One of the spotlights aimed at the altar was directly behind the woman and it lit up her big blonde hairdo like a halo. She could tell, even from a distance, that she had on impeccable clothing. She looked like she had a lot of money. She wondered if they would ever be friends. She thought, “Maybe.”
Chapter Seven – MAYBE NOT
As she continued to watch the woman in the balcony she noticed her looking back at her. Then she leaned over to the woman next to her and whispered in her ear. When she did that, she gestured toward the altar and pointed her finger. They both smiled and suppressed a giggle. The Clarinetist knew she had been pointing at her. She thought, “Maybe not.”
Epilogue
Claire eventually met the woman in the front row. They became good friends. She would babysit their kids once in a while when the couple would go out on date nights. It turned out they were very old fashioned but very much in love. He was kind and thoughtful to his kids, though not particularly warm. She adored her husband and greatly appreciated his ability to discipline the kids with love.
Clair did go and meet the elderly man. They became good friends. He started attending the noon concerts she did once a month with her little quintet she had. He was a widower, having been married 57 years before his wife passed away. Claire played his favorite song at his funeral 5 years later.
Claire ran into the blonde woman in the church bathroom a few weeks later. The blonde woman said, “I just want you to know how much I admire your playing every Sunday. My friend and I sit in the balcony and just adore the entire orchestra. We both like to sit up there because the acoustics are best. We can hear your clarinet very distinctly. We always make sure to point you out to each other when we think you have an exceptionally cool outfit on.”
They became good friends.
The End
drawing and story © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 23, 2016 | Business - 2016, Marty Coleman |
Purchase the original | Purchase a print
Better Than Good Enough
One might think that it is critical when you reach a certain point of success that you up your game and push your level of excellence, going beyond ‘good enough’. But the truth is you can’t wait until you reach any particular level of success to do that. If you don’t push for excellence and originality from the very beginning chances are you won’t ever reach a high level of success. If you do somehow reach that level of success, you will have a hard time sustaining it.
Drawing, commentary and Quote © 2016 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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by Marty Coleman | Aug 24, 2015 | 'In The Gallery', Marty Coleman |
Prologue
Dominique was born in France but moved to Chicago when she was just a baby. Her father died when she was seven and her mother raised her as best she could. When she was 18 her mother decided to move back to France but Dominique wanted to stay in Chicago and go to school or get a job.
Chapter One
Dominique went to the gallery opening because the exhibition was titled ‘Pierced’. She saw a flyer for it posted in the back hallway of a club where she danced. She wasn’t really an artsy type of person, she had only been to one museum in her life, but she was excited to go because she loved piercings. She had 20 of them herself and was hoping to get more.
She asked one of the other dancers, who went by the stage name ‘Flame’, if she wanted to go with her but she had no baby sitter for that night. The other girls at the club weren’t really very friendly and most of them sort of scared her. She would have invited her best friend at the club, ‘Trinity’, but she had been arrested for her 3rd DUI two days before and was still in jail.
She decided to go alone though it was very scary for her to do so. She never really went out to anything remotely ‘cultural’ even though she read about a lot of those sorts of events online. In her mind she wasn’t very socially adept, never really knowing what to say. She had gotten better at small talk, working at the club had helped her with that, but she still worried about talking about serious stuff. She had it all in her brain, she thought she was pretty smart after all, but she just sort of froze up when that sort of conversation was in front of her.
Chapter Two
The gallery was in the art district of Chicago. She had never been there and got lost. She felt annoyed with herself for not figuring out how to get there in advance and felt a panic attack coming on. Luckily she found it right about then and was able to calm herself down by doing the breathing exercises she learned about on some fitness website she sometimes followed. She checked her makeup in the rear view mirror, reapplying her eyeliner just a bit and touching up her lipstick.
She dressed how she thought one should dress for an artsy event. She wore heels that weren’t too tall, certainly not her stiletto height that she wore on stage. She had on a maxi skirt, the only one she owned, with a bold blue and gold print. Blue and gold were her favorite colors and they matched her piercings. Her blouse was just a simple pale blue leotard type top. It did a pretty good job of reducing how big her bust looked, which she hoped for since she hated the attention they got when she wasn’t on the job.
Chapter Three
The place had a beautiful sign hanging from the front letting her know the name of the gallery, Foray. The gallery was crowded but not so much so that she couldn’t make her way through. She had to go to the bathroom and asked a cute girl who, in spite of looking about 14 years old, seemed to have a certain confidence standing in the middle of the room, as if she knew the gallery. She pointed to the back of the gallery and said, “Go to the left back there and it’s on the right. I like your piercings, by the way.” Dominique thanked her and went off to find the bathroom.
Dominique chuckled to herself once she left the young girl. So young yet so confident, something she wished she had been at that age. She found the bathroom and relieved herself. There was a big orange vase made out of corrugated cardboard in the corner of her stall. It had a single white PVC pipe sticking out of it with a large paper flower sticking at the end. The flower was blue and gold and looked a lot like the stud coverings she had on her piercings. This made her happy.
Chapter Four
She went back out into the gallery and started to look at the art work. She hadn’t really known what to expect since the flyer didn’t have a picture on it. She assumed it would be pictures of people with piercings, but it was not. It was large paintings of strange scenes. One was of a fat man on a fishing boat catching a giant Marlin. It showed a close up of the hook poking through the fish’s lip. Another was of a woman at a sewing machine. She was in pain with her finger impaled by the needle of the machine. It showed blood all over the sewing machine. It made Dominique wince. There was a very large painting of a man dead on the ground with a big hole in him. Another man was standing over him with a gun that was smoking.
It was all very strange to Dominique. She was repulsed but wanted to look at the same time. She had no idea what any of these paintings had to do with piercings at all. She walked into an area where there was a wine bar and food, which she quickly indulged in. She would have preferred water, her mouth was really dry, but she was hungry and thirsty and that’s what was there. The wine wasn’t very good but the little cracker thingies with the tan-colored spread on them were yummy.
She was going for a second helping when the young girl she had asked direction from came up beside her. “You found the bathroom, right?” she asked.
“Yes, found it fine, thank you” she responded. “I liked the vase with the blue and gold flower, that was cool. Who did that one?”
The young girl laughed, “Ha, that’s mine. It’s the only place my mother let me put it. She’s mean like that!”
Right then a woman who looked surprisingly like the young girl came up. “Are you telling a perfect stranger how mean I am to you? You always make me sound like the worst parent.” She laughed and grabbed the girl around the shoulders from behind and nuzzled her neck.
The young girl looked at Dominique and said, “That’s my mom, if you hadn’t guessed.”
Dominique laughed and said, “I figured. You two look a lot alike. She reached out her hand to the girl, What’s your name?”
The girl answered, “I am Veronique but I go by Vera. This mean person behind me is Cruella.”
Her mother laughed and said, “Yep, that’s me, cruelest mother on earth! Actually, my name is Angelique but I usually go by Angel. Nice to meet you.”
She held out her hand and Dominique shook it. Then she turned to Vera and shook her hand as well. Both hands were warm and strong. It made her feel good. “I am Dominique but I usually am just called ‘Dom’.
“So, what do you think of the art here?” Dom asked.
Vera looked at her mom and was about to speak when her mom said, “I am not sure, what do you think?”
Dom responded, “I like it I think. It’s sort of scary though. I like the colors he uses but I don’t really understand how the paintings relate to the title of the show. I only came to here because I like piercing a lot.”
Before she could continue Vera said, “I sort of got that.”
Her mother said, “Don’t be rude Vera.” But Vera rolled her eyes and protested, “I wasn’t being rude, I was just stating the obvious dear mother.”
Dom smiled and said, “I didn’t take it as rude, no worries. I know people look at my face and see a lot of piercings. Anyway, I thought it would about that. I am not sure what these are about. But then again, I don’t know much about art. This is the very first art gallery I have ever been in. And I have only been in one museum before.”
Vera sighed, “You are so lucky! I have lived my whole life going to galleries and museums, they can be so boring!”
Vera’s mother sighed back, “See what I get for exposing my daughter to a life of culture and beauty? Such an ungrateful little waif!” She then let out a big laugh and kissed Vera on the cheek.
Vera wiped her cheek and looked at her mom. “You can be so embarrassing sometimes!” she said as she laughed back.
Dom was completely enthralled by how fun this encounter was. Her spirits were lifted by seeing the relationship between Vera and her mom. But she was confused. “So, I have a question Vera. You said the vase in the bathroom was yours and your mom would only let you put it there. So Angel, does that mean you are the owner of the gallery?”
Angel answered with a smile, “No, not the owner. I am the artist. Vera wanted to take over the gallery with her vases but I, meanest mother in the world, wouldn’t let her. She got the bathrooms and she’s lucky to have them.” She laughed.
“You did these paintings? Really?” Dom said with her jaw open. She was now mortified. “I am so sorry I said I didn’t get them. I really do think they are good. Don’t listen to me, I don’t know anything. I should have just shut…”
Angel put her hand up to stop her, interrupting, “It’s completely OK Dominique. I wasn’t offended. I completely understand people will have all sorts of opinions about the work. I will say however that the reason I think the name of the show and the paintings are connected is that each painting shows something or someone getting pierced by something.”
Dom looked around. “Damn, how did she miss that!”, she thought to herself. “Uh…DUH me. Now I see it. Man, sometimes I can be so dumb.”
“No worries, you aren’t the first person who didn’t see the connection.” Angel said. “I was married to my husband for 10 years and he NEVER got any of the connections I was trying to make. But I still loved him anyway.”
Vera came up close to her mom and hugged her around the waist in a sweet, comforting gesture. Dom wasn’t sure what it was all about figured it wasn’t any of her business anyway.
Chapter Five
Angel excused herself, saying she had to mingle with other guests. She looked at Vera and said, “Are you ok on your own for now?”
She laughed, pointed at Dom and said, “Yep, I am going to walk around with her and explain all the weird things in your paintings that no one ever notices!”
Dom and Vera did just that. They walked around the gallery and Vera explained about little secrets, and in some cases the larger story, behind the paintings.
They got to the last painting, of a man with a gun in his hand standing over someone he had just shot. Dom said, “This is the most gruesome of all the paintings I think. What’s the story behind this one?”
Vera looked at her and said, “This one is of my dad. He had to kill someone a long time ago to protect my mom and me. We went to the mall to shop and there was some guy who started firing a gun near us. My dad pushed us both down into a lingerie store and ran after the guy. He fought him and got the gun away and killed him.”
Dom was stunned. “Wow, your dad was a real hero that day! How did he get the courage to go do that?”
“I don’t know” Vera responded. “Mom says he never really was a scary strong guy before, but she said something just came over him and he did it. She tells me that he never said anything about it afterwards except that he loved us and wanted to make sure we were safe.”
“Wow. Did he ever talk to you about it?” Dom asked.
Vera looked up at Dom and said, “No, he died before I really was old enough to talk to him very much. I was only 5.”
Dom put her hand on Vera’s shoulder. “I am so sorry to hear that. He sounds like he was a really great dad. I bet you miss him.” She was crying as she spoke.
Vera noticed the tears and said, “It’s ok now. I remember good things about him. I am not sad that much anymore.”
Dom said, “You know why I am crying? There is something you don’t know about me. My dad died too. I was only 7.”
Vera looked at her and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I am sorry, it sucks, doesn’t it.”
“Yes, it does.” said Dom.
Vera and Dom went back into the main gallery to get something to eat and drink. They saw Angel again and Vera told her about Dom’s dad dying. Angel gave Dom a hug, holding on for quite a while. She asked, “Would you like to go to dinner with a few of us after the opening is over? It will just be another half an hour if you can wait. I would love to have you with us.”
Vera piped up, “Yes, you have to come, promise?”
Dom smiled and said, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
Epilogue
The dinner was great, as was the fun day the three of them had at the Zoo a week later. Dom started watching Vera a few days a week after school while Angel was at her day job. Vera taught her how she made her paper vases and flowers.
Dom quit her dancing job a few months later. It was a big financial hit but she had saved up some and knew she needed to get out of that business soon anyway. She got a job at the front desk of the Foray Gallery and Vera would come hang out there after school. Dom eventually learned bookkeeping and took over running the gallery’s business side. Turned out she was good at it.
Angel became a very well-known artist and her paintings became much sought after. They started selling to not just collectors but museums as well. The gallery even sold one for $100,000.00, which blew everyone away. There was a big celebration that night!
When Foray’s owner wanted to sell the gallery to move down to Florida to be closer to his dying parents, Dom, Angel and Vera went in together and bought the gallery.
They remained best of friends for the rest of their lives.
Year later, when Dom was asked what was the secret of her success, she would always say the same thing, “The secret to my success is very simple. I had one moment of courage to go see art when I was 21 years old. Everything else came from that”
The End
Drawing and Short Story © 2015 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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by Marty Coleman | Aug 9, 2015 | Illustrated Short Stories, Marty Coleman |
Prologue
Oriole had her first one person show at the Gallery Heron.
Chapter One
Oriole got the skirt she wore to the opening at ‘Upscale Retail’ a consignment shop in the fancy part of town. Her sister, Wren, said the skirt looked great on her and that she had the perfect blouse to go along with it. They went over to their mother’s house and found the blouse in spare bedroom closet. Oriole wasn’t at all sure the two went together but her mother, Robin, said that contrasting patterns was the new thing and it looked great. Their little sister, Myna, thought it looked stupid but she thought everything looked stupid so they paid no attention to her.
Chapter Two
Oriole had her friend, Ibis, do her hair and make up. She had been a hair stylist and cosmotologist before she had triplets. She told Oriole that the striped hair was the newest thing and that a dark circle of rouge on the apple of her cheek was also a new trend (she called it rouge instead of blush, trying to be old fashioned).
Chapter Three
Oriole was at the gallery an hour early. She wanted to make sure the paintings were hung correctly and that the food was laid out just right. She found that the piece called ‘Balls’ was hung next to the piece called ‘Hose’ and it shouldn’t have been. She didn’t like the sexual innuendo of the two of them side by side because neither painting was really about sex at all.
Chapter Four
She went to find the gallery owner, Miss Heron, and complained to her. But Miss Heron said it was too late to change the location of either painting. She reassured Oriole that no one would notice that they were next to each other and to just not worry about. Oriole was nervous but agreed to let them stay where they were.
Chapter Five
The opening was a big success. Many people came to it and 4 paintings sold. There were many compliments on the food. Three people said they liked her skirt. Nobody mentioned the two paintings next to each other, though Oriole did see two girls laughing while looking at them. Her family came, including her Aunt LittleHawk, who had gone on a spiritual retreat in Navajo territory and changed her name from Fiona Finch.
Chapter Six
Two days later Oriole was awakened by a call from Ms. Heron, the gallery owner. She told her to get the newspaper and look at the front page of the ‘Art Scene’ section. She said there was a big photo of her welcoming the guests at the opening and a rave review alongside it. Oriole didn’t get the newspaper so she had to get dressed and go downstairs to the corner store to buy a few copies.
The review praised her use of paint, her witty ability to have content and humor together, and the subtle but insistent message of sexual power among women. She particularly liked the two paintings, ‘Balls’ and ‘Hose’ being next to each other. The reviewer, Henrietta Hornbill, said it was the most auspicious inaugural one person show in the city since Nick Sparrow had shown his sculptures of handcuffs made out of different colors of Jello.
Chapter Seven
Oriole was very confused. How could any one get a sexual control message out of her paintings? She had never thought about that at any time in the creation of the paintings. She called her oldest and dearest friend, Dovey, (who lived in Cardinal City, California and couldn’t make it to the opening) and asked her if she thought there was a sexual message in the paintings. Dovey said, “Duh, I’ve always known that. I am not surprised it was what the reviewer saw.”
Chapter Eight
Later that day she got a call from Onea Owl of NPR asking if she would be available for an interview, maybe at the gallery, about her work. They wanted to do a story in the next week about sexuality and wanted her included as an artist leading the way in feminist interpretation of sexual issues. She said yes, mostly because she hoped to meet that lady with the hard name to pronounce who was always on in the mornings.
Chapter Nine
Three days after that she got an email from someone supposedly from Vogue magazine. She thought it was a joke but she recognized the name of Winny Warbler at the bottom of the email as someone who had been a judge on that reality TV show about fashion. Ms. Warbler wanted to do a photo shoot with her as part of an editorial piece on stylish female artists in the city. She was hoping to get Jinny Crow and Penelope Plover as well.
Oriole called her and asked why she wanted her in the editorial shoot. Winny explained that while the striped hair, clashing patterns and bright circularly rouged cheeks had all been trending separately, Oriole had been the first one to have put them all together so successfully. Oriole was even more confused but decided she was going to go with the flow.
Chapter Ten
Oriole became a wildly successful artist in the city, then nationally, then internationally. She was the biggest hit at Art Basel in Miami the next year. She was chosen for the Venice Biennale and the Whitney biennial the year after that. She was the first artist on the cover of Vogue, first on the cover of Time since Picasso and first on the cover of Art Forum since ‘the artist formerly known as art’.
Chapter Eleven
Oriole flew high with her fame for 45 years. She became incredibly wealthy with homes in New York and St. Tropez. She had her retrospective in 4 museums simultaneously. MOMA showed her paintings, LACMA showed her sculptures and Tate Modern showed her prints and drawings. Her erotic art was at the museum in St. Tropez.
Epilogue
The most amazing thing about her career though was her departure from it. After the retrospectives closed she sent a press release out saying that she was going to retire from painting and focus on bird watching. She sold her homes, donated her remaining paintings to various museums around the world and disappeared from the art world. She moved to Saskatchewan, Canada and watched migratory birds the rest of her life, which lasted another 20 years. She died in her sleep in her small cabin in the north woods. Though it was never thought that she ended her own life, she was 95 after all, there was a note on her desk that made some people think she had known the end was near.
It said, “I saw all the important people in my life fly by today. I can die happy now.”
The End
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