Everyone knows Sylvia Plath, the poet who committed suicide by putting her head in the oven. Not many people know she was an artist too.
The intimacy of her drawing of her husband Ted Hughes gives me shivers. He wrote of her death:
“Then a voice like a selected weapon
Or a measured injection,
Coolly delivered its four words
Deep into my ear: 'Your wife is dead.'"
I love the economy of her lines and the graphic quality of her work. Her poems paint such vivid images it seems natural that she would express herself through drawing too.
Although American, Sylvia lived in London and loved the city. This scene reminds me of the view from my bedroom window.
"Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons."
- Morning Song, Sylvia Plath