Upward to Heaven

The original version of this piece (that you may have seen if you stopped by our booth in Houston or Dallas) had the subject’s head inside a birdcage. But even though I loved the concept in theory, there was something about it that didn’t feel right and I didn’t love it (which is also why I initially hadn’t shared it here.) So in spite of printing a small batch of those and even selling some of them, I revisited it recently and ultimately decided to nix the cage entirely. And now I finally love it. I think we’ll likely destroy what remains of the initial batch we printed with the cage so if you happened to snag one of those at a past show, know it’s special and one of only a small amount.

I also want to note that this woman’s face is not historical imagery. The rest of the elements are however. Not surprisingly: It is damn near impossible to find historical/public domain artwork depicting anything but white men and women (unless they are being depicted in a negative light) which is so incredibly limiting when historical artwork is my primary resource (as well as just depressing af).

Upward to Heaven
(previously called Caged Bird after the poem Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar, at the bottom of this post)

Historical sources utilized:

Portrait of Archduchess Isabella Clara Eugenia (1566-1633), Infanta of Spain by Frans Pourbus II. Oil on canvas. 1600

NGC 602 and N90 as seen by Hubble Space Telescope. Photograph. 2004
(The image spans about 200 light years, and a number of more distant galaxies also appear in the background.)

Jays by Ferdinand von Wright. 1877

Tilhiä pihlajassa by Magnus von Wright. 1839

Hanging birds by Magnus von Wright. 1865

Vintage pattern illustration by Owen Jones. 19th century

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Sympathy

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;   

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,   

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,   

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing

    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   

For he must fly back to his perch and cling   

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;

    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars   

And they pulse again with a keener sting—

I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,

    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—

When he beats his bars and he would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,   

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—

I know why the caged bird sings!