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All contents copyright ©2009 Kathleen Jesse

  I grew up in museums.  My Aunt Mary worked at the Smithsonian and I would go and simply hang out and look.  Years later, I remember sitting in the dark through endless art history classes, discussing all the vast body of knowledge amassed around these enlarged images on the screen. I felt like I was missing the essential “Captain Marvel Decoder Ring”.  I was not seeing what H. W. Janson said I was seeing. Where did all this knowledge come from?  Plato, Alberti, the Angel Gabrielle, a motorcycle repair manual?  Where was this sacred text?  I knew if I could but discover it, I too would possess the key to Divine Enlightenment.  I would be able to understand all male sports programs, mathematical postulates.... I kept getting stuck in the murky spaces between those things that are supposed to make so much sense. I found myself wandering back in time referencing historical sources, in much the same way as women writers of the nineteenth and early twentieth century made use of the inherited literary forms of their discipline; writers such as H.D. who superimposed her own poems on the structure of earlier Greek verse so that the original inhabited her own work exposing two conflicting texts.  It is this space between narrative perspectives that is of interest to me, how the inherited and self-inscribed function to alter and contextualize each other, subverting a single reading.  It is the writing and rewriting compressed into the matrix of our burgeoning historical /cultural inscriptions where I still keep returning. I started visiting New Mexico in 1996.  My sister and her husband had purchased a remote ranch in the mountains a few years before; it was dusty and harsh. I didn't like it much, but over the years it grew on me.   I have gone from visitor to squatter.  My paintings masquerade as cultural/domestic parodies: courtly paintings of little boys miming the glory of others in their finest garments going off to war. They're my attempt at "picturing" the confluence of the personal, the historical and the cultural imprinting that go into my "making sense" out of the private and the public event.