The Abramson Cancer Center of the University of Pennsylvania
Last Modified: May 3, 2002

But I Don't Inhale mixed media: acrylic, cheese cloth, lace, paper, rose petals, ribbon, glitter, wooden frames 43 x 12.5 inches 1995

This piece chronicles my aunt's life. Each image represents a part of who she was from childhood to death. Included are people who were important to her. The images I used are fading and blurred, just as emotions now blur my memories. I used her favorite colors and rose petals from one of her funeral arrangements.

Because I live in a conservative area, this piece probably will never be shown there. It is "too morbid, too awkward, too angry, not literal enough, not acceptable, etc." But I had a need to make it. My memories of her are precious. My anger is real. It is all there, acceptable or not.

My Aunt Josephine smoked for over 55 years, but she didn't inhale.

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