I am not sure why wigheads are my usual canvas.  Maybe it stems from the new wave aesthetic that is so imprinted on me.  I find them strangely beautiful, sometimes eerie, and when I work with them it feels like sculpting.

 I wrote a novella in 1993.  That was the first time I discovered a phenomenon that I’ve heard fiction writers talk about frequently since— Characters take on lives of their own.  This new wighead has definitely done that. “She Dreams the Triad” portrays one woman’s jumbled musings of love and desire and her ultimate clarity about pursuing partnership with a man and a woman.  Creating her was peaceful in moments, and also an emotional challenge.  I, too, am seeking poly family.  I believe she is more certain than I of the people who will be together and the structure of the tribe.  Here is a look into her mind.


The images click along like an old school slide show.   They make trails as they shift through brainwaves.   She follows. 

She thinks of him, and for a moment he is red-splattered.   She is shocked to envision him bloody—Could her anger be so great inside this many-layered romance?   Then her cheek flushes red with wanting him and thick desire outruns all turbulence.   Another image flashes.   It is her closest friend— punky, blonde, intellectual, more social than she.   Yes, she loves her, but she is startled that snapshots of her have erupted so suddenly into her raw passion fantasy.  

The slide show click click clicks.  She sees herself.  Who am I now?  She sees her; she sees him.  What would he say? Sure, he could have a romp with them, but could he love them both?  She sees them all wildly distorted as if they’ve fallen into a kaleidoscopic abyss of color and dreamscape and alchemy.  Then they return in a picture clearer than any before. 

They are stylized and static, yet their emotions seep through in spite of themselves.  Her third eye shines with the knowing of what they could be, and her throat is jeweled just where she will form the words to speak her truth.  She knows that soon there will be the messiness and sublime potential of words and flesh.