Saturday, February 25, 2017

Monochromatic requirement

Monochromatic I can do. I grew up monochromatic. Yogi Bear and Yogi Berra were both monochromatic on the 15" screen. We listened to the Beatles in mono. As color faded from the day sphinx moths sipped at the honeysuckle vine climbing the lamppost. We sat on the still warmed driveway concrete after a supper of T-bones broiled over charcoal waiting for fireflies and hoping bathtime would be forgotten. Sometimes we would climb the hill in the backyard to watch the Echo satellite pass overhead in its orbit. Monochromatic life was satisfying, comfortable, reliable as a freshly sharpened yellow #2 pencil, except my dad had to go to bomb shelter engineering certification class once a week.

Do I want to go back to that Twilight Zone? No. Do I want to live in a new Cold War us vs. them belligerent bellicose nation? No. Monochromatic makes interesting art, but scary politics.

The moth art submission must be black, white, gray. Okay. Roger, over and out.



  
There was that one day in 1958 when my life was in living color.


Photos of completed projects and works in progress 
© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder with all rights reserved.

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