In Ancient Greece, the beauty standard was a curvier, heavier woman. The Greek goddess Aphrodite was considered to be the most beautiful, and she was depicted with soft, malleable curves, with thick arms and hip dips. Parts of her body were dimpled with cellulite, and other parts were decorated with little lightning-like stretch-marks. When she sat or crouched, her stomach rolled. She was beautiful because she was real.
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My mom used to host the family Christmas party every year. Seventy moms and dads, aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins, and siblings gathered in our home, turning both floors of the immaculately cleaned and lavishly decorated house into a bloodbath where instead of spilling blood, we spilled secrets and maybe some wine and a bit of marinara sauce.
Upon looking at Annalynn Hammond’s Saturn Devouring Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, you may have thought, “what an awful affront to fine art.” Maybe you laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the subject. Or if you’re like me, you forwarded the image to all of your friends with thirteen exclamation marks because everyone has to see this piece. Underlying each of these reactions, however, is the acknowledgement that despite being painted more than 60 years apart, in two separate countries, and under radically different art movements, Francisco Goya’s Saturn Devouring his Son and Vincent Van Gogh’s Sunflowers were undeniably destined to become photoshopped together in the 21st century.
Saturn Devouring Van Gogh's Sunflowers
by Annalynn Hammond
The clouds outside the coffee shop windows drooped low enough to obscure the tops of the skyscrapers. It was going to rain, and I didn’t have an umbrella.
“Morning, Adaliah,” the barista said.
I wrenched my attention from the window and realized I was next in line. “Good morning, Sam.”
“The usual?” Sam asked, already sharpie-ing my name on the cup.
Caroline pulled the keys from the ignition, and the abrupt absence of the rumbling engine left only her breathing to fill up the silence. The cabin staring back at her was silent, too, but it never made much noise other than the occasional settling of its walls in the lonely late afternoon. As a child, she visited the cabin frequently with her grandparents, and it had since been left in her care.
There was a dog on the front porch, bathing in the sun. Brown spots freckled his white fur, and he lifted his head off the ground to see if she was going to upset his nap.
