Fortieth Day

February 26, 2018June 21, 2020 ~ Mia Pharaoh ~ 61 Comments

Francesca Woodman Untitled Rome 1977-78. Perhaps it should be titled, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”

Fortieth Day
100 Words

Thaw, the fifth and final season, follows in muffled white steps behind Winter. It wakes like a charging bull with a caustic rage, unleashing pent-up black thoughts, sullied emotions, and questions of sanity: leaving you fully exposed to blind spots told in epitaph. It’s the cruelest season with the chilling betrayal of your own frostbitten hands beating you down, down to nothing, down to less than nothing. When you realize you’ve had enough you find yourself channeling the iconic genius, Francesca Woodman hanging from the door casing before a final leap of faith into the unknown: leaving a void forevermore.

“The joy that isn’t shared dies young.”
― Anne Sexton

Video — “ARTIST ROOM – Francesca Woodman” * *

Dove

February 19, 2018January 15, 2021 ~ Mia Pharaoh ~ 66 Comments

Photographer Sarah Moon

Dove

With fragile ankles
We turn on pointed toe
Extricating ourselves
From the lukewarm rubble

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”
― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

Sarah Blasko – “Bird On A Wire” *

East

February 12, 2018December 19, 2020 ~ Mia Pharaoh ~ 64 Comments

Photographer Erich Hartmann

East

Reduction, a man-made affliction: the queue that holds abundant room for cruel intentions and harsh realities. Snapshots of the transparent and apparent blanket everything with a blasé gesso malaise when properly prepared hushes questions of right, leaving blank stares as empty armless hugs, known as the huddle: an odd semblance of warmth. The Deplorables distinguished as righteous, the righteous disguised as deplorable share in the madness and madness: a never-ending role of one in the sameness.

“It’s sickening how The Machine treats its individual parts.”
— June Gloom, The Gray Zone

Balthazar – “The Man Who Owns The Place” *