Soon you'll be a ghost Painting

My grandma used to talk about leaving her body at night. Tethered to her sleeping body by some kind of silver umbilical cord, she would float above herself. I imagine her ghost-nose pressing against the cold of the ceiling, alerting her to her newly buoyant astral body. She'd turn over to watch herself sleep for a moment before before slipping out the window. She had to be careful because she knew that if the thread broke, she’d never find her way back. This raised a lot of questions about the mechanics and durability of astral threads. Could they snag on a branch? Did they stretch obligingly? Or did they lengthen as needed? It would affect the return journey. With the former, at some point you'd exhaust the cords rubbery limits, then, having deformed itself quite enough for one evening, it'd abruptly snap back into shape, hurling you back into your body, waking you with a start. With the latter, it’s less abrupt, but more laborious. You’d have to coil it patiently around your arm, tensioned between the elbow and the webbing of your thumb and forefinger. Could you really enjoy the trip knowing that the further you flew, the more work you’re creating for yourself? Leaving your body is an inheirtable trait. Like fair hair and prominent noses. At the drop of a hat, or more likely the first sign of moderate confrontation, I slip out of my skin and watch the scene play out from a safe distance. Unlike her, I can’t stick the landing. I never mastered re-entry. I get tangled up and float around in knots for days, drifting in and out of sync. Waking up back in your body though, is there a more comforting sensation? All Bundled up. Brimming with yourself. Edges firm and familiar.

Painting:Oil on Canvas

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:19.7 W x 25.2 H x 1.2 D in

Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.