"Home" - First in the four-part series 'Corrine' - Mixed media on plywood. My 167th painting.

Bellevue, Nebraska - March 20, 1989.

Crows descend and settle onto the high branches of a lone, dying tree. Corrine observes their cawing and fight for placement on the spindly, gnarled limbs.

 
Her attention divides between a bit of handiwork and casual glances out the window - where sprawling fallow fields surround her modest home.

The outside air cuts to a chill in the mid-forties but inside, the small structure is adequately warmed by an aged yet trusty wood burning stove.

She sets down her tools, enjoys a few long sips of tea and stokes the fire. The scent of oak charring to coals hangs heavy in the cozy atmosphere. Corrine returns to her seat and resumes the task of rasping a dried iliotibial band from a human femur.


“This is where I find peace and nourish my soul - before venturing out into the wild to decrease the world by one.”

Corrine - Intro/teaser

 Nebraska - March 1989.

“A string of murders across the Midwest leaving behind gruesome scenes of unimaginable brutality. Bodies found completely dismantled and arranged in hideous display - like sculptures. Some even painted using the victim’s own blood. The killer, now being called “The Artist” - is still at large. 

So far, the remains of five bodies have been recovered in Douglas and Sarpy Counties.”

The old farmhouse, quiet and unassuming. Its long dark narrow hallway opens to a sun-bathed room. A small rustic table is flanked by an antique wooden chair. The back of a woman’s head. Short dark mane. She wears headphones from which ghastly sounds of torture bleed.

The stopping click of a Walkman. She slides on a pair of black wire-framed glasses then stands - her pale, unblemished skin richly contrasted by random splatters of vermilion.

Gently, the tape player is set upon the table. Her slim nude body with sensual gait moves to the hallway, entering the second door on the right. From the closed room - a power drill spins at full bore. A man’s voice, raw and cracked, bellows in anguish.

Corrine

Home

Without Measure

Torn From This Coil

Reborn

A new four-part painting series.

Peeling from the walls, soon…