Sylvia Plath and the sunsets she survived
Those words you see crawling around her, are lines from her various different poems in a way that only a poet's words can ring around her, it's both the rope choking her with the strength of its honesty and its power over the poet who is helplessly in its grips, and the rope that pulls her through the storm that roars inside her. It's also the most beautiful and merciless ornament that she wears on herself.
I've made the words circle 'round her in both normal and mirror writing.
One of the lines that threads out from her most prominently has been taken (distorted) from her poem "Elm" - "I have survived the atrocity of sunsets."
The line actually reads- "I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets." (italics added)
I realized the distortion, after I finished the painting. And it's strange that I would make the mistake considering how strongly this line is etched in me. I can change it, of course. I can change it right now. But it's such a beautiful (and maybe even prophetic?) mistake, that I think I'll let it be.
I hope to survive what she couldn't, and I hope you will too.
On Canvas sheet