Print measures 9”x12” (Has Border)
Giclee print on bright white 245g textured watercolor fine art paper. It has a matte finish and a bit of tooth to it, and is highly durable (made from poly cotton fiber).
Acid and Lignin-free (Lignins acidify paper as they degrade over time).
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"It's The Most Fun in the Park When You're Laughing in the Dark."
Cigar smoke comes wafting in, the singe of burnt hair mingling with the noxious scent of melted plastic and ancient greasepaint: the clown that didn't make it out when the funhouse went up in flames.
In life Zeebo never managed to make it past the funhouse door. Yet here he is, in your house, making himself known in all his scents and sounds.
Laughter underpinned by cruel mockery and so many different whiffs of ozone.
There's something sacred and deadly serious about legends and you wish you would have realized that before now.
Your neck goes raw like chicken skin and you start to shiver as the regrets come flooding in, drowning out all but one persistent thought:
You wish you hadn't stolen that nose, that round and red and seemingly frivolous nose.
Zeebo's memorial effigy had been placed in the funhouse for a reason:
it was the only thing appeasing that restless spirit of the carnival.
And you had defiled it...
Print measures 9”x12” (Has Border)
Giclee print on bright white 245g textured watercolor fine art paper. It has a matte finish and a bit of tooth to it, and is highly durable (made from poly cotton fiber).
Acid and Lignin-free (Lignins acidify paper as they degrade over time).
———————————————
"It's The Most Fun in the Park When You're Laughing in the Dark."
Cigar smoke comes wafting in, the singe of burnt hair mingling with the noxious scent of melted plastic and ancient greasepaint: the clown that didn't make it out when the funhouse went up in flames.
In life Zeebo never managed to make it past the funhouse door. Yet here he is, in your house, making himself known in all his scents and sounds.
Laughter underpinned by cruel mockery and so many different whiffs of ozone.
There's something sacred and deadly serious about legends and you wish you would have realized that before now.
Your neck goes raw like chicken skin and you start to shiver as the regrets come flooding in, drowning out all but one persistent thought:
You wish you hadn't stolen that nose, that round and red and seemingly frivolous nose.
Zeebo's memorial effigy had been placed in the funhouse for a reason:
it was the only thing appeasing that restless spirit of the carnival.
And you had defiled it...
