AMERICA

Lithograph. 19 x 24 inches. 2024.

A flat shrine stares back at you. In it a female figure bends backwards, pulling a string- bending a bow that seems to be alive. The pose seems uncomfortable, but effortless. Storm clouds rain lighting on the figure, but rather than dishing out pain, they only serve as a dramatic ornament for her already elegant frame. The clouds do conveniently obscure her identity. She could be anyone. You wonder why she’s naked, but cannot come up with any real reason. Indeed, her nakedness feels natural- the question almost feels stupid. The arrow is sharp. The only thing keeping it from its target is a shallow sense of purpose. You almost want to talk her out of releasing it, but remember that she’s a flat, motionless image on a flat shrine on the wall, printed on expensive paper. She couldn’t possibly hear you over the constant fall of thunder.

Even if you were to attempt getting closer to her, you’d first have to get past the horrid face at the front of the composition. These are the eyes you first felt staring back… there’s something strange and familiar about that face. The same goes, for the *other* face. There’s two; both equally hideous. There was an attempt by the artist to adorn the face with snakes and feathers; probably with some intention or other, but that’s lost on you. Whatever the intention was, it was vain and superficial. Or was it? Two snakes fit perfectly well here. You wonder why the word vain even crossed your mind in the first place.

You look below, and notice that the artist saw it fit to title this piece AMERICA, but you are not so sure you understand what he meant by that. What is America, anyway?