Clocks

“Clocks”
Acrylic Paint with clock parts

I was twelve years old when I experienced mortality in full force for the first time. The
clock hands also point to twelve, sometime around when dad was pronounced to have
left us. Old parts of a clock battery turn the clock from the interior of my form, indicating
the same capacity I have for mechanical expiration. Other bits of clockwork become
stars in a turbulent sky. Time carries my dad away, and I am left to float on a violent sea
with no power to control it. A harsh, unnatural light- like the one that woke me up in the
middle of the night- keeps me from escaping through sleep. The memory was
overwhelming.

 This memory haunted me since that night and it materialized as a painting in my mind’s
eye. It was only a few years ago that I felt brave enough to paint it out. So I gave it
material form, and left touches of surrealism to show the distortion of memory as the
event is more and more removed with time. As I finished painting, I got up to look at it
from a distance and burst into tears. In the process of painting it out, I didn’t feel like the
little girl lying on the couch anymore. Suddenly, I felt free to leave my painting on the
table and walk away. This gravestone is a milestone.

Danica Thurber
2012