When I was 23 and having an educational experiment, I took an Art Class and somehow I had learned how to construct a paper box, four sides and a top that slid onto the bottom. Quite perfectly I must say. Starting from a simple mat board I cut and taped the structure together and then covered it with a sturdy paper for painting. I drew figures on the sides of some floating morphed construction with a stretched bubble like image; which moved and wrapped the edges into the inside. It formed the center at the point of the inside cover. The inside of the box are still unfinished. As I thought of this image which lies unfinished; it has become symbolic. My unfinished inside and bright colors and shapes outside. This remind me of forms I call myself. I constructed these images of my Art in the 60’s and 70’s; Psychedelic actually.
I only did Acid twice, the first time I had nothing happen till the end of the day, which was when the bulbs on the fixtures exploded. I can remember the bathroom and the burst of light fracturing itself into the room. Then the second time, as if my mind opened to a small dot of drug on a sugar cube, I began dancing. My arms flowing to twice their length, we left the club going to sit in the car. My then boyfriend and I watched the rain on the windshield. The same image I drew on the box flowed down the window as each sliding image formed the Zodiac, with colors arranging themselves, in the same shapes on my box. I described my view to my friend and he said: “ maybe you are trippy enough.” This is how my poetry and writing flowed into my Art. I wonder if I will ever finish the box, especially the inside. The outside is nicked and chipped leaving it’s once perfectly covered box; worn from long travel from home to home. Waiting for me to finish, I would say trippy has taken on a new meaning now. My flow from day to day creates itself and accepts what I can ,while looking for my truth to continue to work on the inside.
