Cincinnati, Ohio.
Memory Ann Forwalt. Cincy, 2016.
Watercolor & Acrylic on Canvas Panel.
27.5 cm x 35 cm (11 in x 14 in).
Cincy is a piece dedicated to a time period spent alone and filled with utter confusion while homeless in the downtown corner of Cincinnati. My bed, a concrete bank on the Ohio river, while assuming watch over the hills of the neighboring bluegrass state.
It was a period in which my mind pondered and puzzled to understand the events that were taking place around me. I might go crazy, I thought to myself, but knowing others might hear those thoughts they were abruptly silenced.
It was as if my mind was under attack. The heavy load of those attached to it tired me quickly. At times, I comforted to the desperation of those who were around me. Was it God's fury thrashing, or Satan gripping tightly to the havoc he had created? Perhaps the world would end, or their science would, at last, destroy not only my mind but my heart and body. I entertained secret ghosts, those whom could be felt, but not seen. Not exactly what I expected, but it forever shaped our city, at least at the time that is. Thus, this piece is well suited to its home and simply named, Cincy.
Memory Ann Forwalt. Left Unattended, 2016.
Watercolor & Acrylic on Canvas Panel.
35 cm x 45 cm (14 in x 18 in).
A large right eye directs one to the hidden cage behind her closed eyelid as a tear silently rolls down her face. A band-aid on her head points to the scar left unseen. Her neck has been cracked or slightly pops at a simple touch. She has been unplugged from the mass amount of information she could once receive -terminated.
Although still present and sometimes moving behind her eyelid, she secretly hides her pain in embarrassment, simply understanding that most would never believe. Lights flash in colors, sometimes red, yellow and green accompanied by a headache that stills her to rest.
She wishes she could blame mental illness, but that would only hide the truth. Yoked and tied to one that she wishes would take the lead. That is what they wanted, to simply pretend she is not what she is -their mistake that is.
The dried flowers are her souvenir from that place of terror, it's the scar that one can see. Thus, she is adequately named, Left Unattended -(she referring to me).
Memory Ann Forwalt. The Cincinnati Bridge, 2016.
Watercolor & Acrylic on Canvas.
40 cm x 50 cm (16 in x 20 in).
She sits in a far away place where most cannot reach. It's a place where her psychic ghosts can secretly travel in safety while comforting her. And that place where another's invisible science can be reached, but not seen. And although some lie dead, she is often surrounded by the fallen, the tortured, and the weak. -empathy.
It is where she was forced to sit alone and was simply left behind as some sort of evidence for the events that took place from the summer of 2014 through the winter of 2015, in Cincinnati. Although events had begun much earlier, she sat in the midst of the height of it and waited until the utter end. Thus, this piece is titled, The Cincinnati Bridge.
Memory Ann Forwalt. "The Kid" - Early Spring 2015, 2016.
Watercolor & Acrylic on Canvas.
17.5 cm x 35 cm (7 in x 14 in).
"We not let the ghosts get in," she heard that kid say, as he sat on top of her blanketed body on the homeless side of Cincy. She lay in exhaustion on a concrete slab covered by her blanket, a small blue suitcase sat next to her as they ran to her in a sort of panic about mid-day that day. The ghosts abundant, the good stayed close and sat on her in their loving effort to somehow protect her against the sick and the despised and those that spit one might say.
"The Kid," as she had named him a few years back, stood his stance and dared to protect her as he sat on top of her lower torso in his acclaimed effort to keep her safe from the evil that surrounded both her and him. She his "A," and known to other children of his age as the same. Thus, this piece is proudly named, "The Kid" - Early Spring 2015.
Memory Ann Forwalt. The Letter A, 2016.
Watercolor & Acrylic on Canvas Panel.
17.5 cm x 22.5 cm (7 in x 9 in).
His soft voice calls her by the sweetest name, a name he just named her - one day. He presented a wooden letter A as a gift of her name. Is the A for Aunt or for Autism? Perhaps, the A stands for Alone. This piece is simply titled "The Letter A," for a child in whom she holds very dear. - her oldest nephew, "The Kid."
Memory Ann Forwalt. Gigs of the Mind, 2016.
Watercolor & Acrylic on Canvas.
30 cm x 40 cm (12 in x 16 in).
It's a land of confusion, there in that place -Cincinnati.
She lays on a copper podium trying to assert her self-worth, exclaiming, "If you could only see the images inside of my head and tell me where they came from, I could then prove to you that I really am not crazy. Face-in's really do exist behind my closed right eye lid and my head has been touched by an invisible science that I can't seem to comprehend." Tied to broken science, in that of the machine that no one can seem to fix, she is yoked around the neck to something that cannot be seen or understood by the flesh. She lay with the questions of life and often wonders if it will soon end.
The military men, dressed in their camouflage and bearing their dog tags watch in wonder and keep pointing in her direction. "We are not supposed to be attached to you! Am I a right or a left layer? Well, order it, un-attach them in secret and then stay away from her.
The blind man in his blue suit, stands with his walking stick, hands on his head, screaming, "It came from her head, not mine. I don't know how it got there they put it in mine too. The images don't move, not the way you just demonstrated."
The massive tree behind holds its copper branches to signify the mass amount of knowledge that is growing within.
The copper pedestal holds only one of the many talking heads that surrounded them that late fall and in that early winter. Note his images in which he is able to secretly hold and store for later. Little did they know, her brain too could take pictures and receive the messages the same as the machine did. "Behind these walls are the many stories she cannot explain." And they continue to pop up ever unexpectedly, even while she is awake.
And last, satan stands in the midst observing the destruction he has proven he could make and the many lives he would later be allowed to take, whether in death, through destruction, or in pain. They are left to only remember, but they can't speak of it, silence -another hold satan has always embraced. You can see, but you can't speak and if you did they wouldn't understand anyway.
Thus, this abstract piece has rightfully been titled Gigs of the Mind and certainly hides the images that many do not want others to find.
- face-in's. -talking heads. -unleashed science.
-simulations. -voice. -audio secrets hiding within.
-inputs & outputs. -right & left layers.
-a torturous wand. -machines that can't be fixed.
-over active brain activity. -ghostly visits. -videos received.
-rip complete. -sleep machine.
-foreign machines, used but not understood.
-military lines. -mind reading. -slow beating heart.
-missed breaths that weren't taken. -invisible torture.
-modes & dolls made by a different creator.
-dream shares. -psychic wheel.
-hidden weight, unseen & doubling.
- and stories untold and left unspoken.
Accompanied by a song that can save a life.
"Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects." -waste time.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPDcwjJ8pLg.
I am just their dirty little secret.