So I’m working on a series of short stories about various sexualities. I started with Midnight Suede, then Vanilla Suede (which is going to run in the galleries at ERWA in October) and now Red Suede.
Red Suede is in the galleries of the treasure chest at ERWA. My editor Bob wanted it. He said it really skated a line. I knew it did. The feminist line. Go see.
You can take a look at the pins here.
I’m looking at a lot of imagery from Man Ray, Horst and Cartier-Bresson for this — the black and whites. Each of the stories is an intersection about something for heterosexuals. Red Suede is femme fatale territory. Are women femmes fatales? How do we break each other’s hearts?
It begins with remembrance. A set of stairs. The scent of a crushed geranium leaf. A little balcony where two lovers once wrapped themselves. He was married.
