Skip to main content

Lefty Lucy a Morton Salt Girl

Lefty Lucy as the painting appeared shortly after completion in 1999

Left Lucy hanging above the Director's desk at Dogmatic

As moss is to stones so are narratives to objects and extrapolating them that are implied is the work of some. Now imagine that this stone is a comedy but not for the sake of laughter. That it's a sketch inserted into club night between fake Chet Baker sets and the smoke. In front of the audience there's a woman that coughs 2 brothers that will shake hands with anybody and a busy person in a t-shirt that says, I'M BUSY. Imagine a crown with no hole that only fits one very high head and that it's her's. She has the tools for this kind of work. She's in a people place where all the slippers are bunnies and the bunnies run small. This is a process by which structure is assembled from other things, Or so she says. Here are three views of Lucy. She's an icon for salt aficionados everywhere. Lefty Lucy was located in the office at Dogmatic for many years. Then she moved to Ruble Street and finally to the Happy Dog gallery in Wicker Park. 

Lefty Lucy as it appeared in Happy Dog Gallery


Popular posts from this blog

Got a dog in my earring (an instance of 3)

H' after everything is a mailbox stamp knows. Don't, it's all bad. Like a captain bad.

Own Mah Own Rose

What say the fallen in the Vestibule, late to dinner  Warm as a garden chair Yes to that, to tea and all  in the green as pale as peaches will get 

Turd Grinder IV: Keep me in line for a little while longer, just until you have to go again. The dark wave and the first jolt from my morning coffee are elements that have yet to sheep. Looking through a ton of old glass is hard. Sitting down and sifting through the odd bits of sparkle and dust left inside this hidey-hole at the bottom of this calendar. There's almost always more bitter mixed in there then there is the sweet.  Fontso: I'm so happy-happy to see that this work is being edited down. All of it's been sitting on the back of my desk forever. Where plastic gets soft in the sun and the desks window looks out south all day long it's always so hot. Turd Grinder IV: There's safety in warmth, freedom from reprisal among the pillows, in the soft down. The clock inside is as deep as a clouds kiss.  Fontso: Onion thugs, yello…

In fashion, passive is to envy the figure smote.

Juniper, cedar and all that's old tends to settle on the bus in the corner by this door. It's not quick, joints are popping like failure. Left alone in the kitchen, looking for matches until it can light the stove. "There once was a night here," I've said as much before.
Corn conjured syrup from the corn that I brought from the back of the store. The simple pleasure of falling into that warm slip isn't like drying off or tempting the man at all. It's a lottery with pages of never knowing it all the first time that I was there.
A three way intersection where the street is wet. There's shrink-wrap that's been spooled across each of the pedestrian walkways. It's secured with bulky knots to the street lamp, the sign post and the scooter at each of the corners. There's a garage door or something else done up in yellow with blue steel doors. In the street there's garbage and soon enough an umbrella will join your car keys.
There's alr…