The Spindle's Point

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The Spindle's Point is a simple work because it only took one simple prick to bring Miss Beauty down. Sleeping Beauty has always been one of my favorite fairy tales. It opened up a world of questions that have been with me since my first reading: did she dream? If so, what did she dream about? What did she think when she opened her eyes? If she were a gemini, like me, she would probably want to see what would happen if she touched the spindle again. Or, perhaps she wanted to touch it again, and sink back into sleep.

The spindle, in this case, is from the leg of a cormorant, a beautiful bird who might once have carried a girl through her dreams on his wide back. The bone has been mounted on a fragment of striated slate. The petals behind the spindle are of a flower that was plucked from the strands that grow around the wrought iron fence by my front step. All are mounted on an oval wooden panel that has been painted with black enamel. The piece measures 7 inches high and 5 inches wide and has been highly varnished to protect the elements of the work.

The Spindle's Point is dedicated to Catherynne M. Valente, because she sees between the words and shares her visions with us.

The back has been titled, signed and dated by the artist and includes her story, The Spindle's Point.

She had not known the pain would pierce her so. Blood blossomed on her hand where it went in, folding her like a flower into sleep. As she dreamt of flying, all of that became the dust that lay atop her like-dead form and was left behind her outstretched wings. Yet after years of weightless soaring, she woke and on her lips she felt the pressure still where he had laid his own to fell her. As she drifted in that realm between, eyes half-closed, half-open, she felt blood blossom as it had before, though this pain left her wide awake, trapped as though her flight had never been. The sun rose up, her flesh was brought to life while she lay still and broken, wondering if, by chance, the wheel might still be there. After all, it would hurt but for a moment, that sharp prick of its point, and then she'd be away from all of the pain of this.

Private Collection

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