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painted a series of paintings using the human figure. Complements of color were placed next to each other making the surface vibrate. De Kooning was painting a woman. His body moved through the canvas, this was action painting. Two large breasts faced forward, circles drawn out of black paint, the artist was freeing himself from external portraiture. The mouth was at an angle showing the teeth. Snarling. The eyes were large and the eyebrows were slanted. He was looking for an archetypal myth of a woman. The painting showed evidence of struggle. The portrait of the woman moved beyond oil paint. The expression of paint was calling all women trapped in the 50's. My mother was hearing the scream from New York. Arizona was inside De Koonings painting, turquoise, red, breast slashed on the surface of stretched cloth. We were all in my grandmother's kitchen and de Kooning was at work with my mother's portrait.

My brother Mike had sat down at the table. He slept in his striped T-shirt. My brother's clothes always looked too small. Was he growing too fast or was he ignored? As my mother made plans for reconstruction our eyes meet across the table. We both looked at each other. We both got dressed and sneaked out the back door. We did not want to be in my mother's army of workers. She could bring us so far, and then we were on our own. Outside was the back yard and Shannon Hill to discover.

The morning in Arizona is like afternoon anywhere else. The sun is up and the temperatures already warm. The best shadows are in the early morning and late evening, making sunrises and sunsets to be photographed. The eight hours between those two


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