Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that does fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
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| Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that does fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. |
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| -Shakespeare, The Tempest | |||||||||||||||
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| The question I was considering when making most of these images: Why did our Fathers disappear and where did they go? From my limited perspective as a kid, my Dad never seemed to take to fatherhood with much enthusiasm. But my story is not very much different from the of hundreds of men of my generation that I've talked to, gay and straight. In many cases, the church made up for what our fathers couildn't handle. Oh something about that legacy went terribly wrong. But during the whole time I was examining these monologues, I really didn't find much harmful residue of my dad's benign neglect. Maybe all that expensive psychotherapy paid off. | |||||||||||||||
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