These are your jellyfish. They are the artist’s obsession. The way their forms are taken by tides. Pulled towards the shore or towards some unknowing place. Our beaches are cursed by thousands of these little ghosts.
Yet she fills her canvases with their clear and brilliant orbs. Occasional tendrils seem to slide off the edge. Their little hidden fires. Their little underneath parts papering the dark.
To have a mind as hers. To have an eye that understands the little shocks beneath. To consider that these ghosts have such an edge. Such a sting.