Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
I have been working on several 100′ camouflage ropes for an immersive installation of I Am My Hair. I am deep into earth tones at the moment…
Want a sneak peak on what i’ve been working on?
I still need to embroider the beads and little green army men. Soon come.
Here’s a sneak peak of what is going on in my studio right now…
McCarty’s making frames and i’m starting some new small works