Seems like quite a nice piece. The wiping off of the paint-like layers to expose the image is an interesting idea. I don’t know if that is what is happening, but it’s how it appears to me. Almost a trompe l’oeil effect with obvious computer work—3 images, fencing. It does set up a sort of weird conflict in my perceptions or something. I read a bit about Ralph Chaplin. I had not heard of him before. It seemed like a sort of strange, sort of sad tale—I guess what he saw when he was a child and then his disillusionment later on. But he may not have been sad at all.
I do not understand these bizarre references to vomiting.
ralph
PRONUNCIATION: rlf
INTRANSITIVE VERB: Inflected forms: ralphed, ralph·ing, ralphs
Slang To vomit.
ETYMOLOGY: Imitative use of the personal name Ralph.
sigh I have actually heard that word used that way quite a few times. I don’t seem to be able to keep more than one meaning in my head at a time . Thank you!
That’s quite a story. It’s interesting to see what happened to this guy.
In 1941 he wrote, “In our young foolishness some of us thought the Bolshevik revolution marked the birth of a free society. Instead, it started a monstrous reversion to the world’s oldest form of tyranny. Free government, free labor and free enterprise in the American sense-they meant little to us until we saw them being consigned to destruction…”
Chaplin continued to serve his community and fight for workers rights, but he also joined the Sons of the American Revolution, began attending church, and often found himself shunned by former friends who saw him as a “red baiter.” Yet, his views were complicated:
The communists have one thing in common with the old IWW-to both of them the labor movement was a Cause. To the less imaginative bosses of the AFL it was merely a business. Gompers gave the American labor movement a body. It took Haywood and Debs to give it a social conscience.
A low point in Chaplin’s crusade against communist infiltration of labor occurred one day when he found himself drowned out by crowds expressing their dissatisfaction with his ideas by singing loud choruses of “Solidarity Forever.” They had no idea he had written it.
Well, it’s a weird thing. What actually came first is that I ran across his photo while browsing in a library and found the photo haunting. There’s a lot of stuff in those eyes. Then read the story and then did the art. It’s really less about this story and more about doing something with that face. I’m interested in faces.
Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth lie, but rather mourn the apathetic, throng the coward and the meek who see the world’s great anguish and its wrong, and dare not speak.