Went to visit my parents a week ago, developed a fairly severe in-need-of-immediate-root-canal dental issue, and so in a haze of painkillers, was staring at my mother’s art. She did a series of tree roots, (“Black Series”) and a series of faucets, (“Water Icon Series”—That’s “icon” in the sense of all those religious icon paintings, not, y’know, 50 x 50 online avatar doohicky) and the two started rhumbaing together in my drug-addled brain, and this was the result, a sort of homage. I think a lot of my Gearworld stuff has it’s oldest origins in living around my mother’s art as a kid. I find myself picking up a lot of the same threads, half in homage, half because…I dunno, maybe it’s genetic. Or possibly I’m just on painkillers right now and making no sense at all.
Anyway, in my Vicodin haze, I mentioned this to Mom. I dunno how much came together, but she said “Hey! You want some faucets?!” and I went home with a set of rusted faucets. Go figure. I was in rather a lot of pain while painting, but I didn’t have the brain cells to do anybody else’s art, and I screwed up a coupla times due largely to the mule kicking me repeatedly in the molar while I painted, so it’s as well that I stuck to something of my own that didn’t have to come out a certain way. (In retrospect, if there’s any symbolism here, the dead roots probably relate to that friggin’ screaming dying nerve in my jaw…well, nevermind.) - Ursula Vernon