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MotherDogStudios Presents
Petite Mort ... Moths
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I have always been curious about the little things, hidden things, discarded things. Captured in passing storms, landing all around me, moths blew into my life. These “wandering death-birds”, “souls of witches”, are creatures of myth and magic. Now, I pleasure myself in reproducing their feathering wing patterns. Layering iridescent inks on smooth clay boards, I scratch & dent at the surface with an xacto knife, pens, and pencils revealing their enigmatic markings.

 

I am exploring the shadows of death and reincarnations – the poems, songs, and praises that are the spirit of moths’ myths.


Louise Schlachter

Born Brooklyn, New York

works and resides Mother Dog Studios, Houston, TX

 

Making unseen subterranean archives spew Color Webs. Ambiguous Ovidian. Polyphonic Ovidian. The untouched psychological lake of the page is as critical as the shapes and forms of herself. Emotional re-marks swirl and twirl. The surrealists call my process automatic drawing. Small tight scribbles with subliminal sounds. Strokes. Strike. Stimulating. Irritating. Colored pencils glide: itch & scratch past years. Denial. Diagramming senses my own language jots and tittles. Max’s wife Dorothea said “I sit and wait with spiders patience for winged bits of affection to crash into my web where I immediately swallow them always still hungry.” Long curves streaming suggestions of waving arms. Now, hair flying in the warehouse whirled wind. Impulses. Persist in paradise. And hell. Instincts survive.
"Art should never try to be popular. The public should make itself artistic."