My Bucket List January 14, 2008
Posted by Charlotte Babb in goal setting, self-portrait.add a comment
Location Freedom! Thanks, Richard Lee for your thought provoking question.
Space…the Final Frontier…I want to live long enough in good enough health and rich enough to go to the moon. It’s not like I haven’t been there, just not in the flesh. I’d rather go to Mars, so I’ll put that here too.
Of course there’s lots of places here on the home planet I’d like to see: Macchu Picchu, the Louvre, the Georgia O’Keefe museum, in order of increasing probabiltiy. After all, I could drive to New Mexico. I even have a friend who lives there.
See my novels in the Science Fiction Book of the Month Club.
Wear size 14 clothes like the average woman in America. Better yet, wear custom-tailored silk clothing in my long-waisted, big hipped, shape. Even if I have to do the custom tailoring. I used to be able to sew.
Go out dancing with a significant other on a regular basis. That’s a bucket list in itself.
Who is this Masked Woman? November 14, 2007
Posted by Charlotte Babb in self-portrait.Tags: , Emily Carr, emotional baggage, Frida Kahlo, Georgia O'Keefe, goddesses, heroines, self-portrait, totems
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Generally speaking, that is always the most important question. Who am I behind my masks, and what masks am I wearing? What are the images I bring with me and why have I collected that particular set of baggage? This image reflects my totem animals of jaguar and snake, along with my heroines, Emily Carr, Frida Kahlo and Georgia O’Keefe, who were contemporary artists of the first half of the last century. Several goddesses are noted, particularly Baubo as Isis on my forehead, who is an later incarnation of Au Set or Wadjet, who was the original Eye of Horus. In keeping with the snake theme, a small image of Medusa runs across the Jaguar’s forehead. The tattoo of my initials on my shoulder was just a lucky find–the name of the rubber stamp block was celtic borders–so I stuck it in there on top of a glamour shot picture blended with a picture of me in a mardi gras mask. So–who am I and how much of what you see is me? That is the question for each of us as we look into the mirror.




