The Red Glove Series
The Story
Wouldn’t it be nice to walk thru a forest of dense vines & willow-like branches? Soundlessly weeping, the trees trunkless; ghosts. While walking through this dream, the botanicals brush you with the gentlest touch. Red dandelions; enormous, fat & fluffy. The climate is just right, the mood serene. & how did you come to be in such a oneiric scene?
Just so, as the environment shifts while you move through, yet remaining just the same as though you’re not moving at all. A homeostasis of infinity and transience. Which brings us to the girl and the glove.
It’s you. You’re a young woman, for the everlasting moment. Clad in peachy garments and blessed with chestnut colored skin. A matching tousle of hair. Red lips, red boots, red fingernails. Your exquisite hands rarely looked upon as they're sheathed in embroidered gloves.
You are a calm woman, but your heart beats a little faster when you realize through all the shuffle you have lost a piece of your outfit. You look down at your hands; one stark naked. You haven’t seen your hands in ages. A part of your protection has gone missing, and the skin of your hand is bare. Your fingers are free to feel the surrounding environment. As you rediscover your ability, you also uncover that anything you touch, your hand goes through it, and meets a cozy sensation. As pleasant as petting a fuzzy kitten. Merow. Mew. Purr.
The glove gone. Suspended & lonesome in an abstract exhibit. No longer cladding precious cargo. A woven fabric designed to protect from hazard, yet with it amiss an opportunity arises. With your hands, you feel, detect, mend, create, and destroy; if you want to. How long since you last thought about this gift? & what have you done with it?
You travel through the dream, but not much seems to change besides the orientation of the swallowing flowers and leafy veins of this garden. You might look back, but what you find in front of you is even more curious. A face, peering so close you meet the delicate breath on your angel’s kiss. Brightly lit up; beaming ethereally.
Whose face have you looked upon? Why it’s your own, of course. Yet this is most difficult to understand when you don’t encounter such mirrors in your waking state. As if you meet a perfect copy of yourself. You can reach out and inspect your face every bit.
When was the last time you explored your face? Yourself, as you are? Do you know yourself? Now, she does. Perhaps it’s time for us again, too. xx
The Series
The Red Glove series comprises five paintings created with watercolor,
pigment and archival inks. Paintings № 001 and N.005 of the series
feature exquisite botanicals, such as vines in red, black, and wine
colors. Oversized and whimsically red dandelions. & signature orbs
drawn with a network of fine lines, floating in between bubbles. These
two paintings complement paintings № 002, № 003, and № 004. In which subjects relating to the main character are portrayed. Her glove, her face and her full figure. Each of the drawings shows off the endless matrix of the surreal garden.
I created this series intending to set up a dreamlike scenario to explore matters of self-discovery. The story based on how we are part of our habitat. It is not so much about the red glove, but what happens when it goes missing. We can lose a sense of blessing of our abilities when we become comfortable with them. The glove uncovering the character’s hand creates a moment in which can remind us of our remarkable capabilities. She exists in a setting that is continually the same, such that she begins to explore herself after she mysteriously loses something material: her glove.
Through the eyes of a dreamy stranger, we can take time to consider ourselves in the waking state. We don’t need a mirror for this. One can find a space without distraction and study our face (using our hands). When the concept of rediscovery of the self is set in a surreal timeline, it holds more contrast and allows us to see the need to come back to ourselves and reflect. To put a pause on everything once in a while and check in with ourselves to explore. May it be physical or just to sit and wonder.
Diazee