|"Hangman"from the Cadavers series|
Savannah Schroll, circa 2002
Art was, you see, the only thing I ever stuck with. I was not graceful enough for ballet (I preferred to play in the rosin box, which completely ticked off my aging Hungarian ballet mistress). And because I could play by ear, I never learned how to read music, and so I was very gently "fired" from both piano and violin lessons. My devotion to horses similarly waned in fifth grade, after I was thrown from one that spooked. And, while lying on the ground trying to breathe, I realized their size in relation to my own. I subsequently didn't get back on one for many years. Finally, although I may have looked athletic, I had absolutely no interest in sports. Instead, I drew and eventually, I painted...not very well at first. My efforts were confined to still lives of flowers and subjects that ran somewhere along the lines of the commerical "Starving Artist" shows that set up shop on the outskirts of Pittsburgh and sell palette knife paintings and bland landscapes intended to hang above sofas. No offense starving artists, but ugh. Can we get more visceral perhaps? No? Well, okay. I tried.