Manuel Palacio, artist, bring the light dance in the shadows
Ella
“I do not care so much what I am to others as I care what I am to myself.” ― Michel de Montaigne
Ella
“One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” ― Simone de Beauvoir
Ella
“No black woman writer in this culture can write "too much". Indeed, no woman writer can write "too much"...No woman has ever written enough.” ― Bell Hooks
Ella
“If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power to be self-defining, her agency.” ― Bell Hooks,
Ella
“For women, the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.” ― Isabel Allende
Ella bronze sculpture
“We are Black women born into a society of entrenched loathing and contempt for whatever is Black and female. We are strong and enduring. We are also deeply scarred.”
Ella, my female bronze sculpture. Oddly, El Bembóm male bronze sculpture is all dressed up with no place to go. So where is he to go? Cognitively, (Huh, weird, I know.) back to his childhood to seek control, to redirect insecurities, the not so safe moments of his life. Hoping for different outcomes where he’ll feel love and acceptance. He goes to Ella, (her). Ella, the object of his irrational desires the cause for anxieties. The women: his mother, aunts, and grandmothers his reason for being; his obligation stronger than self-respect the source of his guilt, to defend and protect, or to die for.
Ella (Spanish for her) Ella is nurturing, full breasted with a phat-ass. Her soft body ready for hugs, her vagina a sheath for securing all manhood. Her tender heart protected with iron from life’s disappointments searching for fathers in stranger’s arms; mother’s love and reassurance in her chastise; desires that will soothe her insecurities, her fears. She gives births to Lovers, nursed with milk through guilt nipple.
…come to my woman’s breast, and take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers…
… I have given suck, and know how tender ‘tie to love the babe that milks me…