Baltimore Sonnets

No, I'm done with the galleries.  They wouldn't touch me anyway ever since that “incident”.  Yeah, I made the news back then, but they got the story wrong.  But look, I thought she was trying to grab it from me, and she could have told me instead of "help! help! he's tryin’ to kill me!" You keep laughing, but I'm not joking. The reasons for making art couldn't be more different than the reasons for consuming it. © 2014 Suzanne Coley

Riding New York City subway trains inspired these letters.  Some have been forgotten. Some will remain with me forever.  Blogging has allowed me to process them through new media.  I share them with you now. Letter from a Serious Man by Suzanne Coley Y ou think I'm joking? I'm not joking! These "contests" are a double rip-off. Now check this out: the winners. First place -- the 2001 What’s-his-name prize recipient, FOR THE SAME WORK that won now! Must have been really ahead of her time, that one. Still think I'm kidding? I'm not kidding! Now look here: here's my submission. "Urban jungle: Screen prints of urban scenes inspired by face and body painting of indigenous Amazon tribes."  See this?  They look like  five-color prints, but I did it with two, and got all those colors right! Now here's the "regret to inform -- many outstanding -- see you and your 40 bucks next year" letter; and here, 10 month...

 Lithograph print  (24"x 18") Fortune Friday #11 Failure is the only opportunity to begin more intelligently. Lucky numbers: 7, 9, 21, 25, 30, 55

finding forms for upcoming artist's books If we knew what we were doing it wouldn't be RESEARCH.  - Albert Einstein Math board: understanding different perspectives, June 2014

Cracked *étude for a limited edition artist's book Cracked from the strain of sleeping With a junkie in tight shorts Stripes down the sides Cracked from the train ride from Queensboro Plaza to E 59 th street “You don’t belong on the Eastside” Cracked from the positive pregnancy Test that puts life Inside her at 22 weeks Cracked from the strain of being 15 In two months with three Years to go till graduation Graffiti dreams scratched on invisible walls Cracked paint holds her brain Inside her head Five in the morning she sneaks Into the only bedroom in the apartment One deep breath Two swallows of hope Six names squeezed onto tiny yellow parchment Her government card,   she steals it. Her mother’s cracked out body stirs She stands still with the small paper to her chest The other body in the bed peeks out She stares back with defiance Crack fiend turns over She quickly leaves the apartment ...

Letter from a homeless man Silkscreen: He hit a brick wall, July 19, 2014 I love paper, however some stories are better told on other mediums. silkscreens on monoprints, The Travels What I remember most about homeless shelters: Arriving with just the clothes on your back and no bags.  How quickly clothes became tattered.  The shelter was the last stop on a long, long journey. Fabric scrolls, Conversations with a homeless man So, one of the things I wanted to capture with Letter from a Homeless Man  was the humanity of a life on the edge.   fabric scrolls, Conversations with a homeless man How it looks from the inside to "fall apart" and to lose everything.  While printing, I realized that fabric did something that paper couldn't quite do.   silkscreen on fabric, Letter from a homeless man It allowed me to "show" the story from the beginning . . . 

Go for gold today! You'll be the champion of whatever. Lucky numbers: 07, 10, 14, 18, 20, 38

Coco Looks Good  *étude for a limited edition artist's book Coco Looks Good, linocut 24" x 18" *Thirteen, I was thirteen when I was six I tried to tell the judge, but he didn’t want to hear it.  He didn’t understand ghetto arithmetic and I didn’t understand judicial equations – especially when he gave me four years when I was thirteen.  Pulling the first proof on a real World Map, July 16, 2014 The doc told me this day was going to come if I didn’t cut back.  “How do you get $3500 a week anyway?” he asked.  All I could say was “Coco looks good.” *Excerpt from  Coco Looks Good, a song without music Images and text by Suzanne Coley for limited edition artist's books about life growing up in New York City's  Queensbridge

Coco Looks Good étude for a limited edition artist's book “Coco looks good,” she’d say as I slid that tiny elastic tube top over my hips and rolled those fishnets with seams-on-the-back up my calves. “How high did you go?  What did you take?” the ER doc shouts in my face before jamming the long needle into my chest.  “Coco, this is the third time in two weeks; third time in two weeks.”     “She’s a frequent flyer with no insurance. Don’t touch her.”  Too late.  It’s always too late.  It’s an emergency, like my life.  How many emergencies do we get?  Depends on how many grams I can get.  5 gram a day lady am I.  Coco looks good when I watch my reflection through the white powdery hills on my little square mirror. *Coco Looks Good is part of an upcoming series of limited edition handmade books (with original poetry, letters, and imagery) about growing up in ...

Smithsonian Folklife Festival 2014, Washington DC Lots of dancing. The girl with the curious hat ended her day with many thoughts about what she saw in Washington DC on that hot summer day. She is still on the hunt for that antique loom that weaves magical ribbons.

We must have old memories and young hopes.  Lucky numbers: 9, 11, 14, 20, 34, 56 Linocut on antique map

I would like to thank the collectors who have given my artwork great homes.   Linocut and monoprint on rare antique paper (private collection) - and thanks for viewing my blog suzanne

Letter from a tough, tough cookie étude for a limited edition handcrafted book Me - I'm a fearless woman.  I'm a tough, tough cookie.  I've been through more scrapes than I would care to count. Linocut on newspaper, "I'm a tough, tough cookie" by Suzanne Coley Now, I'm not gonna be walking through these woods.  Not 'cause I'm scared, I'm just prudent.  I just don't do squirrels.  You just never know what they are up to.   I don't do narrow roads.  I've got to have my escape routes.  I'm a tough cookie, I've been through so many scrapes, exits are the first things I look for when I enter. That's not fear, that's just experience.  Yeah, I wouldn't drive down this road.  That's just too narrow for me at this point in time. Not that I'm afraid, mind you.  Nothing makes me afraid.  I'm a tough, tough cookie. *Part of upcoming artist's books  about growing up in New York C...

You should have a talk with your friend today. Lucky numbers: 4, 8, 14, 20, 34, 54

Yesterday, I visited DC.  The experience was so surreal that I decided to blog about it in the following way: coming soon . . .