Lady Leslie Crystal & The Lust Cathexis

Untitled by Leslie Crystal (2010) Acrylic on Vellum — Cropped (Detail). Work in Progress

I’m currently working on a series of paintings depicting female nudes and lush, flowing hair. I don’t know why, but I have an obsession with both. The series is currently untitled, but will consist of four different paintings—all acrylic on 14x17 vellum, which will then be aged and glossed to look like antique photographs.

Here is an additional shot of the same work from above, but from farther away:

As you can see, parts of the hair extend beyond what I was able to take a picture of.  Although I’d like to try to keep regular picture updates for the progress on this series, the pictures may appear skewed because I don’t have a scanner and it is difficult to photograph the pieces effectively. But at least you can get an idea. We’ll see how it goes.

The Book of Conquests

The phone was on silent, but the light flickered after every new message.  She would purposefully avoid checking the screen until either a couple of flickers collected or more than thirty-three seconds had passed. Three was her favorite number.

This time it was thirty-three seconds. Her eyes drifted off of her computer screen as she slid her phone open to read his new messages. As usual, it was a “meet me tomorrow” of sorts; one which was distinct and polite. And, as expected, one which inevitably translated into another collection of choreographed moves, each ending with her on top of him in his bed. She considered saying no, but her fingers disobeyed and typed ‘yes’.

Although she failed to fully understand the connection, there was one. One that was wrong and that shouldn’t exist because, after all, they would never be at liberty to have each other. Still, she wondered why she did not feel like she was wasting her time even if she didn’t immediately find him overwhelmingly interesting or beautiful.

Not that he wasn’t interesting or beautiful.

The Book of Conquests

It was two-thirty in the afternoon and Thomas was anxious to get out of school. Thomas was a strapping, nine year old boy and had outgrown all of his classmates that year. With force, he pushed his way to the front of the newly formed line his teacher had instructed all of the students to get into in preparation of leaving the classroom. Once at front, he stood in line shaking his feet, fidgeting, and unable to keep still.

The bell rang.

Thomas’ dirty blond hair contrasted with his pale skin as it bounced while he ran across the playground at the sound of the dismissal bell. He sprinted across the playground at full speed, trying to pass the children from other classes which were dismissed earlier than his own class. Amused, he turned back to his own classmates, scoffing at their slow speed and laughing at his rapidity.

That’s when he crashed into her.

His height and weight brought them both to the ground; Him trampling the smaller girl onto her side. She must have been at least eleven, but her body was small, fragile, and offered no chance of withstanding a crash against Thomas.

“W-why did you do t-t-that?” the girl asked, directing the watery glance of her brown eyes to Thomas. With a push of her hand, she sat herself, knees up, and placed her head on her knees. Her long auburn hair slid past her face and curtained her tears.

Thomas, making his way back to his feet, looked at the small, older girl in apparent shock that such a small person could cause him to trip and fall. His shock turned to anger.

“Why were you in the way? Huh? Answer me that!” he barked back.

The girl looked up at Thomas while she continued to sit in the floor, moving just enough strands of her hair off of her face to reveal a cold glare. She stood up slowly, still glaring, and walked past Thomas without answering.

“Where are you goi-ng?” Thomas demanded, his voice cracking. But off she went, without offering an explanation.  Thomas, being in so much confusion, stood motionless instead of running after her.

Why hadn’t she answered his question, he thought. He then wondered why she had glared at him that way when she was the one in his way, after all. And then he started thinking about her hair, and how pretty she looked looking up at him with her mean face and her shiny eyes so upset. And then he stopped.

For the millionth time in his life, Thomas wanted to run. But this time, he just wanted to make sure she was in his way again. Always.