Aftermath

acrylic/canvas
5ft. X 3ft.

This was produced on a colabrative effort...
I requested info on a story from a fellow blogger ........
Screaming Whispers

Eva ODell    Screaming Whispers

This is from her page of Eva's blog:


I remember him. My father. My blood. The stain in my veins that runs with the shape of my lips and the tone of my skin. He was lovely, in memory. He was human. More human than I was when he left. And he took a piece of me with his death.





I saw the buds of the flowers peel under summer rays. And like a deaf winter I felt it. Each rip, each twist, each petal revealing, to wither and fall.





I remember it clearly. The gun in my face. The way you told me you loved me. The way you told me I wasn't worth loving. I sliced my wrists to feel the pain, pain you could not use to control me. Pain I used to control myself. Last time I saw you, you raped me. With your body you took a piece of me. A piece I will never get back.





I felt the rain of spring run over my skin. It washed me clean of your sweat. Or, if nothing else. It washed me clean of the penetration.





I told the man the truth. He knows more than you do. He knows more than anyone else. He knows the things I did, he knows I did it on purpose. He did not judge me for it. He knows I sought sex to cure myself. He told me I was depressed. He told me I was enraged. He told me I was a puzzle of holes. He told me I was beautiful. He told me he would forever be a piece of me. And then he left.





I let the ice of winter rush violently through my soul. Leaving only traces of snow drenched visions, frozen in time.





"What are you searching for?" You ask me.





I seek the missing pieces. And the flavor of life, for in which, they are contained.





~Eva





Written by Eva at 11:40 AM

Labels: memory, purpose

The story was somewhat overwhelming, One that gave me pause, as to whether I wanted to proceed with what we called "The Project"
But after assurances from her, and the honesty and bluntness of the story, I figured if she has gone through these things, The least I can do is extract my take on it, and produce something that will give validation to the circumstances that helped create this painting.
Here ya go Eva.