When they have some free time from modeling sports jackets and pantyhose, the ones who disappeared feel that it’s only natural to enjoy other disappearances.
The Ones Who Disappeared – watercolor – 9 x 12 inches.
The first job I ever had was as a stock-boy in a women’s clothing store. I was 16, I’d guess. Well, one of the tasks I had was to change the clothes on the mannequins in the store windows. I found it embarrassing to be undressing mannequins in a storefront with half of Elgin walking by on the busiest street downtown. Maybe it was because I was sixteen, or maybe my unease was because the mannequins were so creepily quasi human.
Your mannequins have that sassy look, that insouciance that real runway models display, not so many arms perhaps, as they rather blithely contemplate desolation from their own ruin. Creepily quasi human on their way to disappearance like the decaying wreck of an old ship that they contemplate through what remains of a decaying window. Mannequins in a window. No one to see them.
Another wrecked soul ship but no ravens as we helplessly endure the crumbling reality about us.
The first job I ever had was as a stock-boy in a women’s clothing store. I was 16, I’d guess. Well, one of the tasks I had was to change the clothes on the mannequins in the store windows. I found it embarrassing to be undressing mannequins in a storefront with half of Elgin walking by on the busiest street downtown. Maybe it was because I was sixteen, or maybe my unease was because the mannequins were so creepily quasi human.
Your mannequins have that sassy look, that insouciance that real runway models display, not so many arms perhaps, as they rather blithely contemplate desolation from their own ruin. Creepily quasi human on their way to disappearance like the decaying wreck of an old ship that they contemplate through what remains of a decaying window. Mannequins in a window. No one to see them.