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MEDIUM: Originals are gouache and typewriter on watercolor paper. Click any image to enlarge. |
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It wasn't easy to tell where the artwork ended and the furniture began. "Hang up your coat," she said, and disappeared into what I'd assumed was an oversized sculpture. I looked around. Most of the furniture looked like something else. I didn't see a closet right away, and I was eyeing what turned out to be the chandelier when she returned. "I see you're appreciating my artwork," she said. "I'm inspired by everything around me. Things I see...feel...sense." Cliches about fish out of water were beginning to do the backstroke around the edges of my brain. She was doing her best to get me out of my shell, when it should have been the other way around. |
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There were two of them and only one of me. I'd been outnumbered plenty of times before, so I'd gone in thinking I could handle it alone. Had I been wrong this time? The pair of them were getting me dizzy. I hated to let them out of my sight, even for a second, but I had to get some air into my lungs. My brain was doing flip-flops. Had there been something in my drink? That didn't make sense, but the images were reeling...something about twins in thongs...I couldn't put my hands on it, but yes, there was indeed something about twins in thongs...what the hell was it? It was every man's dream, I thought, and I was having it. |
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I knew for a fact she was a lot less fragile than she looked. She'd remembered my favorite color, and had it painted on from neck to toe, but I couldn't let that distract me. This was going to take some patience. I'd looked hard to find her chinks; now all I had to do was wait for her to crack. I couldn't go charging in like a bull in a china shoe. She was stubborn, but I could wait it out as long as she could. Longer, I hoped. |
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"I don't want to do anything out of the ordinary," she said. I had to wonder how that would be possible. While I thought it over, I began a slow, gentle foot rub, tracing the lines of her tattoo with my fingertip, then maneuvering one digit smoothly inside the soft leather of her sensible shoe. She moaned with pleasure but removed the foot primly from my reach. This kid was loaded with mixed messages. I'd hoofed it over to her place hoping to convince her to accompany me to my cabin in the mountains. "It's nestled by a pretty little lake," I said, "and I'm picturing pretty little you nestled next to me there all weekend." "A getaway in the woods with my favorite satyr: Sounds perfect," she said. It did to me, too. This was a match half-made in heaven. |
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I was dying to lose myself in those legs. It would be too easy to be lured into her web of lies, so for the time being I was keeping as much distance between us as possible. She'd gotten rid of three husbands already. Maybe four. I didn't see a way to prove it yet, and I had a feeling it might be better for me if I never did. |
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I'd come this close to picking her up. Now that she'd shown me what she was really made of, the thought of touching her made my skin crawl. For the first time in my life, it was easy to keep my hands to myself. I had to start hanging out in more well-lit places. I wriggled away, leaving her to whatever rock she'd crawled out from. under. |
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“It was dumb. I got a little carried away with the chorine bleach.” This particular blonde was no airhead, so I was patently sure that it had been intentional. She asked if I liked what she'd done with her drapes. "I've always been very fond of them," I said. If she really wanted my opinion-----and I had no reason to believe she did-----she’d be thinking about getting rid of that mismatched carpet instead. |
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I was getting too old for this, and so was she. “I’m open for anything,” she'd said, and there was evidence she meant it. But it was obvious this brunette was trying to cover up something that didn't want to stay covered. She probably thought she was doing a pretty fair job of it, but in the end I was sure I'd get to the bottom of it. |
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She was red throughout, which is very rare in a steak, and rarer still in a redhead. |
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"Let's go out and get a hurricane." The invitation knocked the wind out of me. "Let's not, I said. "I still have quite a headache from that last one." After everything that had happened, did she really think we could just pick up where we'd left off? Was she that resilient? I muddled it over for a while. If she was ready to rebuild everything we'd had before, I guessed I was, too."Okay," I said. "But this is a little bit out of the blue. I'll need some time to get cleaned up." "Take all the time you need," she said. " I'm not going anywhere." |
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| $20.00 from each sale of "Let's Go Out and Get a Hurricane" will be donated to the Arts Council of New Orleans. For more information, CLICK HERE. |
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"You're old enough to be my-----." I suppose I should have been grateful that she stopped herself before defining just how ancient she imagined I was. Of course I was old enough to be her "-----", but it's not the sort of thing a guy likes to hear. I felt like I'd been kicked with a steel-toed pump. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"I really strapped one on last night." That shook me. Had things actually gotten that wild? After the first few martinis, the details were pretty sketchy.The clever comment she'd made about the drinks had stuck with me, though. "I'm never sure," she said, "if it's a glass of gin that comes with its own snack or a snack that comes with a side of gin." I remembered thinking that either way, I probably wouldn't have to buy her dinner first. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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She had a sexy little flat in the French Quarter. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"I bet you got your shoes on Bourbon Street." "Best place for 'em," I said, and kept right on walking. There were plenty of beautiful women in this town, and I'd managed to read her beads in a single glance. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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She'd taken a big bite out of my ego. "You're a small, dopey, rotten man!" she shouted. "Why are all men so rotten?"She was the one to talk. As I dodged the contents of the fruit bowl, I reflected on what she'd said. Bruised ego aside, I didn't think I deserved it. Not all of it, anyway."You're not exactly Snow White. Who died and left you queen?""That's not fair." But it was. Of all the things I'd ever wanted to say to her, it was the fairest of them all. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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| I wanted to do everything for her. A bit of hot Mediterranean moisture trickled down her back. I longed to lick it off. Instead, I dabbed it with a clean white napkin, then brought it up to my own lips. I didn't even try to stop myself. Her fragrance was intoxicating, and I was thirsty for the taste of it. She was a goddess. There was nothing plain about her, and I didn’t see how I could get through the morning --- much less the day --- without her. |
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"You want chopsticks?" You have no idea, I thought. I stared down at the pair she offered me, desperate to figure out how to translate what I was thinking into something she'd understand. She read my face --- or thought she did. "Don't worry," she said quietly, "I show you what to do with them." Sometimes it was hard to believe my good fortune. |
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| "I've been waiting for you," she said. By the looks of her that wasn’t strictly true, but I let it slide. Something like that would never be the last straw with me. Besides, I hadn't come here to sling the hash. If that was her story, I was willing to let her try and stick to it. |
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There wasn't going to be an easy way to tell her. She'd been gone an awfully long time, and I was starting to think maybe she'd high-tailed it out the back door. Just as I was beginning to regret the necklace, I caught sight of her sashaying back through the place. As usual, all eyes were on her. I thought at first it was the sapphires, but I was mistaken. "You've, um, got ..." I guess my face told the rest of the story, because she looked down and grabbed a napkin."Oh, poo!" she said. |
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She had a delightful brogue. With her pedigree, it figured. I was outclassed, and I knew it. What could she see in a mutt like me? Hell, I was barely housebroken."My nose is cold," she said. "Let's get a doggie bag and get out of here. I could use a walk." I helped her into her coat, and when we got to my place I helped her back out of it. Before I knew it, she was sitting in my lap. If I could just get her to stay awhile, maybe my hopes for an evening of heavy petting would not be scotched. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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I'd been tailing her for what seemed like hours. She'd led me around in circles, and I hadn't expected that. But then, most of the girls who spent their nights wrapped around a pole weren't as brilliant as she was. On some level, I must have been enjoying the ride, but enough was enough. It was time to get off this merry-go-round and stop horsing around. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"Cute," she said, "but we both know I didn't come here for a dog and pony shoew." Her directness unnerved me. I'd have to get on the stick and win her trust. If she felt played, playtime would be over before it ever got started.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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I cried because I had no shoes, |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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I'd probably burn in hell for what I was about to do. As always, she knew what I was thinking. "Hate the sin, love the sinner," she urged. "Don't tempt me," I murmured, as if it wasn't too late already. My hands had been idle far too long. The soft fabric of her dress rustled between us as it slithered to the floor. I've always loved the feel of satan next to my skin.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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With a jewelry collection like hers, it was a safe bet this angel had fallen many times before. So why was she so interested in a poor devil like me? Still, she might be the answer to my prayers. Hell, she was probably the answer to God's prayers.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"Don't get your boots in a knot," I said. I bit my tongue hard, but it was too late. As usual, she only heard the part she wanted to hear. It was odd how inflexible she could be, considering. She cleaned the blood from my tongue. This was a woman of many talents. I hoped I'd be strong enough to tame her.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"Hello, Red. Nice outfit." As she sashayed past, I let out a discreet whistle. In this neck of the woods, that was still considered a compliment. "What's in the goody basket?" "Nothing you'll ever get to sink your big teeth into," she winked. "My Grandma always told me to look out for wolves like you." "That's good advice," I said. As I watched her skip away, I wondered if I'd ever work up the nerve to aks her out on a date.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"Hi, Handsome. I had a ball last night." "Me too, Pumpkin." I was a little surprised to hear from her after her disappearing act the night before. "You're a real prince," she said. "Maybe I'll see you again some time." With that, she hung up. I couldn't get her out of my mind. There was something phony about this dame. It was almost as if she'd been coached. And I had the nagging feeling I'd seen her somewhere before. But where? Just before midnight, it struck me. "I'll be seeing you, all right, Pumpkin," I thought. I might be a real prince, but I was on to her, and I wasn't going to be able to let her skate on this one. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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I'd already spent days boning up on her case. There were times I thought I could see right through her, but something was still missing. This was going to be a tough one to crack. The sooner I got the whole thing laced up, the better, even if it meant I had to pull a few strings to do it.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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For a girl with such a sweet heart, she had kind of a brassy exterior. She wasn't nearly as twisted as you might think by looking at her, but you could see why she had to play it that way, to avoid being eaten alive.
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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I knew all about her checkered past. Still, I kept my mouth shut while she talked. Maybe---just maybe---I'd learn something new. Here it was. "I've been awfully lonely," she said, "since my last husband gave me the boot." She handed me a cool, even gaze and did not volunteer any more details. That was fine with me. I'd check out her story later. Meanwhile, I had my own checkered past to keep me up nights. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"You do know how to play, don't you?" I stared down at my shoes, trying to figure out a way to let her know I'd never done anything remotely like this before. She stepped behind me and pressed her body close. Gently, she took both my hands in hers and placed them around the stick. "Relax," she whispered reassuringly into my ear. "Just give it a good strong whack." That afternoon, she replaced Miss Foster---9th grade world history---as the most memorable teacher I'd ever had. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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It was a dart and stormy night... "Wait here while I dart across the street for a pack of gum," she said. Considering her short skirt and the way her gams looked in those shoes, I would have watched her dart back and forth across the street all night. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"Wake me up when you get home. I'll have cookies and milk waiting." Cookies and milk, indeed. I knew what that was code for. I wondered what kind of toys she had picked out for me this year. Sometimes I couldn't believe I was married to this woman. She really knew how to put the XXX in Xmas. I couldn't wait to get back to the Pole. I still had a few surprises left in my pack for her. And little Timmie would never miss those batteries. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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"Want to come up and see my toy collection?" "I've seen it, Big Guy", she reminded me. "Besides, isn't there a company rule about fraternizing with the hired help?" "I make the rules," I said. "Last time I checked, that one wasn't on the list." "Well, check it twice. I got a harassment claus in my contract." She was as cute as a button and about as big. I had to wonder how long I'd be able to control mys elf. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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It was easy to forget she was just a two-bit hoofer. She had a real glow about her. She'd been pestering me to put her out front, and I was thinking about giving her a one-night tryout. If she was the star of the show, it would be a lot easier to explain all the time she and I had been spending together. Besides, I could see her point: If you're not the lead reindeer, the view never changes. |
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Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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I already knew what was in the stocking. It was something I'd been wanting for an awfully long time. She was full of surprises, so I didn't figure it would spoil my enjoyment of Christmas too much if I unwrapped just this one thing a little bit early. She had a different idea. "Christmas isn't until tomorrow," she said. "Besides, I gotta run." If she did, I couldn't find it. As far as I was concerned, this was the most perfect Christmas stocking I'd ever seen. |
Signed, matted gicleé print: $75
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ShoeStories™ Click any card |
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ShoeStories™ Note Cards Click any card to enlarge and order. |
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REVIEWS / RECOGNITION "While the illustrations are clever, it's the witty narratives, filled with puns, just under-the-covers innuendo and intentional typos, that bring the shoes to life. . . Tapping into that visceral appeal, Lynch's humorous interpretations are clever, playing with the cultural iconography of shoes as metaphor for feminine constraints, but also female power: Stilettos may be terribly hard to walk in, but they certainly command attention." ---Susan Langenhennig, New Orleans Times-Picayune "The story of Little Red Riding Hood gets a double treatment in this show. In her three "shoe" pieces, Claudia Lynch depicts highly fetishized shoes whose details are telling. Merging the fairy tale with classic detective noir text, Lynch illustrates a stylized stiletto pump titled Hello, Red. Nice Outfit. Look closely to see that the body of the shoe is depicted as a basket, the red bows at the heel for Little Red Riding Hood's little red hood. Lynch's shoe illustrations are clever; playing with a highly charged piece of adornment, fetishized in different ways by both men and women." ---Amy Bracken Sparks, Angle Magazine "In fact, funny images and clever wordplay. . . steal the show. Claudia Lynch, Phyllis Kohring Fannin and Kristen Cliffel use images and text to humorously confront decades-old stereotypes . While the observations are old news, the spins are clever. Each creates an artsy cartoon that's laugh-out-loud funny. "Lynch, an illustrator, prospects the dames of the 1940's. She paints detailed watercolors of stilettos fashioned out of uber-feminine objects like candy boxes, then pairs them with short narratives typed on an old portable. Her text reads like an excerpt from pulp fiction or Casablanca dialogue." ---Eleanor LeBeau, Scene Magazine "It's Mickey Spillane in drag!" ---Jimmy Fahrenholtz GALLERIES UPCOMING EVENTS Second Anniversary / "Thank You, New Orleans!" Party |
All Images Copyright Claudia Lynch 2007.
