The hole in the ceiling awaits the lowering of the sick soldier.  An opening for healing hands.  The women at the entrance remind me that this building is condemned and unsafe.  On the surface it looks almighty ready for a miracle.


Not a resurection from the dead.  This death mask that occupied the unoccupied bed next to Kahlo’s studio.  The black faced mask a reminder of all that is broken, condemned, and the studio a stage for stories of Resurection.  The soldier being lowered for a mircacle had hope. Behind that facade there is the face that lived and enjoyed life without a miracle.


The bycycle riding up the wall is an impossible visual.  The hands reaching to understand try to penetrate the wall with hope.

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