Edwarda Magical Mutated Artist Statement
14 July 2014
Imagine me as a broken typewriter. This poem is the child of that twisted fantasy.
The Betrothal: When Yves Met Edward
The torso of the woman is a topiary bust in the sky
This container holds an eclectic story
The female figure is filled with magenta pigment, blue pigment, and gold leaf
The pilgrimage begins
I journey to the castle on the hill – to find the boy that wore red lipstick
He paints the static sky in a cacophony of flying hair
A flower garden of budding blue breasts and blue torsos
Sensual, but not sexual
Tonite I love to touch
Wives with scissors for hands
Hard meets soft
Blue velvet titts...what’s not to love?
Snip snip snip
Skull bones ensconced within bizarre haircuts
What exactly is “the bizarre”?
My reliquary muses of Suburbia
History’s Princesses – the debutants of Medieval Surrealism
They embody a philosophy
Blue torsos bouncing about – goddesses dancing on white walls
Anthropometries – mementos from these Ghost Girls
Am I seducing or being seduced?
Belief in the blue
Belief in the symphony.