I am a guest at my cousin’s house. Technically, she’s my first cousin-once removed. We looked it up.
The place is charming and neat—tended to, I would say. Young couples seem inclined to pay attention to certain details that often give way down the road. They’ve still got the energy and have yet to accumulate a lifetime of stuff.
The colors are soft and muted, mostly warm tones, with a bit of cool provided by a green glass shelf. A toothbrush places me at the scene, as does the top of my head. While I draw, I try to be as quiet as the palette.
Hard to tell from the drawing, but both the mirror and I sat on the floor for this one. In town for a family wedding, we took over the air bnb with our fancy duds and toiletries. Representing no one’s style, this rent-a-home felt colorless—the exceptions being me, my glass of red wine, and some purple flowers on a scarf. Rita’s shoes make a cameo appearance.
Stratford, New Jersey.
This is what comes of feeling completely at home AND in a big rush. Artistically, all hell broke loose. Gina’s room, or at least it was before she went off and got married, embodies a playful spirit. Her spirit remains.
Ocean City, New Jersey.
Hiding out. The dresser hosts the line up of usual suspects: Bose speaker, Goodwill dress, art supplies, leather satchel, hat and scarf on lamp. There are mysterious wires and a bottle of potion. My bra looks like handcuffs.
Bainbridge Island, Washington.
One more before I go. The cord of the hairdryer is artistic gold, a gesture line coiling in space. There is a triangle of blue and lightning bolts of White Out.