The Hungry Artist

Beckett and Woolf (In-Between)

They posed for the sake of the shoulder, saw it odd to stare straight and smile, waiting for the flash like we do these days. He might have combed his hair with his fingers first (his wavy white and gray). She might have smoothed her skirt (even though it would never appear). One cannot think of her own death when posing (or can she?). He probably got it right after the second try, she the first (her parted lips suggesting impatience). I want to wear my hair like hers (loose, uncoiling slowly throughout the day). I want to navigate the straits of his face into that wide foaming open. I want to see myself the way others would dream me and then look away.

Beckett and Woolf (Anti-Fiction & In-Between)

Samuel Beckett and Virginia Woolf posed for photographs that are now used for postcards. They posed for photos wherein you see the shoulder’s edge. Not smiling or staring straight into the camera, waiting, but not for the blinding flash. Look away. Look away.

He might have combed his his wavy, gray hair with his fingers. She might have smoothed her skirt, though it would not appear in the picture.

She couldn’t be thinking of her oncoming death while posing – or could she?

He might have taken two attempts to get it right, she the first, her parted lips suggesting impatience.

I want to wear my hair like hers because of its bravery, worn loose, slowly uncoiling throughout the day. I want to wear lines and wrinkles earned from hard thinking. See myself how others see me – despite the impossibility – and then look away.