A Chair & A Vase Landscape
A worn pink chair is flush with cushion and perfume. Her arms are pretty ham boned hindquarters, your three-button back is never undone, however, with all her luxury, style and wit no one stays the night in her. Her legs are short, too near the ground and she hates the feel of the wool rug, it leaves her edgy, jittery and confused.
A tall narrow aqua vase bulges at the waist longing to hold life. This shouting ceramic is desperate for pools of water, flowers from the garden, a lover, a husband, a child to caress the exotic, the temporary, the thorny spine of an old fashion rose. Instead she hordes dust, dryness, and clings to thrusting vertical sticks with a tuft of silk that poses as flowers, looking more like dried bones.