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Then as now the decibels of nature can crush an artist's brain. I have seen it happen. So I lock the door and paint interiors. Great events. A white and dark picture would muffle the red world outside. Big bare rooms with white frozen figures, like Sodom and Gomorrah. There is opalescent light and velvet dark. Isn't that the artist's best joy, to control light? To rival the sun and moon, to turn their logic upside down with brushes and paint and monstrous egos? I am here. Dorothea Tanning/Birthday |
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Dorothea TanningAbout the Artist
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