[redacted] (series of 4)

by Kristin Ross, based on Valentines by Shira Lipkin

Mixed media art bookmarks with china marker, acrylic paint, original writing, duct tape, and glaze.

This piece will be auctioned off to benefit the Interstitial Arts Foundation at iafauctions.com

Tags: interfictions2auction, interfictions2, interstitialartsfoundation, interstitial, mixedmedia, bookmark, shiralipkin, valentines
Uploaded: October 31, 2009
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    IAFAuctions.com is part of the fundraising arm of the Interstitial Arts Foundation, a not–for–profit organization dedicated to the study, support, and promotion of interstitial art.

    IAF Photostream
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    A Taste of Interfictions 2
    • “My Obstetrician has four heads.
      She stands in front of me, arms crossed, tapping one foot.
      She only has the two feet.
      We are in Evanston, a socially-politically-ecologically aware suburb of Chicago, and she wears sensible shoes, expensive clogs and natural fibers to draw the eye away from the four heads.”
      From: Afterbirth by Stephanie Shaw
    • “The news is getting everything wrong. Her name was Verona, and not Veronica. She was not a teenager, and would not have been flattered to be mistaken for one. She was not an edgy performance artist. She painted. She also sculpted.

      The news is implying that her boyfriend is sketchy. They always imply that the boyfriend, or husband, is sketchy. I'm angry on his behalf. I am also angry because this basic, default assumption usually turns out to be right. Part of the logic behind it is that someone has to care about you very deeply if they are going to bother beating you to death with "multiple instruments."”
      From: After Verona by William Alexander
    • “I was dead, now I'm alive. That's the first thing you need to know. We'll come back to that later. The second thing you need to know is there are no metaphors in this story. Everything is true. If there's a third thing, and usually there is, it would be that I love lists probably more than I should.”
      From: Some Things About Love, Magic, and Hair by Chris Kammerud
    • “The first time the Black Dog showed up I was five. We were living in Miriwinni and it lurked behind the low, chain link fence that marked out our backyard, hunkered down in the long grass filling the space between the fence line and the train tracks. No-one else could see it, not even my parents. It was good at hiding when other people looked.”
      From: Black Dog: A Biography by Peter M. Ball

    Click here for another excerpt

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