There will be no happy or sad love poetry today. There will be no special someone who reveals themselves like some sappy “girl movie.” There will be no flowers, chocolates or even a hot sassy date later for me. But there will be art… particularly this collage that I started last night and finished this morning:
This piece will possibly be part of a series (or not) depending on if I have time this semester to work on it and/or I just decide it was a bad idea. I was thinking of calling the series “The Domestic Lady.” Here is what I wrote about it in my sketch book:
The home always on the mind
The mindless busy-work tasks
How are we different from our fore-mothers?
How are we alike?