Caught this painting (caught? Do you catch a paining like you catch a movie, though NEITHER MOVE OR RUN?) at the Pasadena contemporary art museum last week — it’s massive, by Constance Mallinson, and contains SO MUCH GORGEOUS TRASH and I can’t stop looking at it:
I feel like the more I look at it, the closer I am to understanding something? PERHAPS THAT I MYSELF AM TRASH?