The long evenings would wear on during the days I worked in the empty malls after the start of the Persian Gulf War. So much so, it felt like I could turn to dust and melt away into the wind. This surviving work of shoe polish on scrap card stock depicts these feelings. This is why this work is titled "Blown". Here I am a disappearing face that is dissolving, even as I grin outwardly. The image could also been seen as my acceptance of futility, like the rock battered by ocean tides. The colors show my despair and anguish (I was only 17 or 18 then, so yeah, despair over boredom seemed perfectly reasonable). Are there other figures in the background mocking me? Is that my blood polluting a body of water?
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