Katrina Rhodes | Still drinking
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Still drinking

A Rose Street ceiling will change shape the longer one stares. Fickers of light tickle and mock the cracks in the paint exploiting of the fact that sleep has gone out to run errands somewhere. Having one shoe on, aiming for two, a harrowed reasoning assures that heading out to the night is a wise idea, after all there are no bed time stories to be had in a chamber where the sheets are damp from the minds plague. With the blink of an eye there you are, both shoes on and back in the place of the polished glassware, the smell of previous gathering and the sound of a till being counted for closure. The music has stopped but who’s to say that it can’t start again as long as the volumes low and the front door key is turned. Now this is the room where bedtime stories happen, the room where the staff know my name and the pores get longer when there is nobody here to see. This is the place where the coasters are note pads and the bar reflects ones face when a candle is left to burn. This is the room that all ideas come to life and are heard with the cheer of a two man crowd. This is where bills are passed. This is a place where sleep comes back knocking with a fuzzy glove and asks to be taken home. In this place to look at the ceiling is to see tomorrow as an open book. Anything thing is possible in this place, the place where I’m still drinking. ~ Katrina Rhodes


Acrylic on cotton

$4,200 SOLD


Painted 2010