I've been reading about Persephone. The gist of the story goes...
Hades falls in love with Persephone and steals her. Zeus orders Hades to give her back but she ate these pomegranate seeds which tie her to the underworld. They work out a deal where Persephone can spend half her time in the under world and half her time in the world above.
Early summer last year I wrote about how it felt, the sun, putting the red back into my blood. How summer brings rest from different things, but not a rest from feeling. I thought about how in the dead months of winter, my body is buried under sweaters and blankets. My blood moves thick and slow and what I feel is muffled. I think I'm glad for that rest season, that rest from myself, that rest from feeling. I'm as unsure as the weather in the Spring, back and forth, not quite sure if I'm ready. I'm hesitant.
My last painting to finish, the one I'm going to unveil a the show is inspired by a poem that Kate Horowitz wrote.
"Before you go," he said, "Eat these."
His palm was rough, black with soot,
and three rubies glittered there, perfect drops
of blood.
He would not meet my round eyes.
I assumed grief and accepted his gift; the hot winds
of deceit had never known my petaled face.
The earth opened above us,
and a golden arm came through
to draw me up.
I closed my mouth, bit down
and felt all my convictions
running down my throat.
I swallowed.
In my painting, I'm interested in the space of time after all of that interaction took place. Maybe Persephone loved Hades, maybe she found rest in the dark underworld. Maybe sometimes she was hesitant to go back to the beautiful world above.
