Because I gravitate to obnoxious, political, bad boy art, I would normally not pursue Marguerite Blasingame's gloomy, child-like, pacific surrealism. But that's why I love the flea market. It's like a chat roulette for objects. It gleefully imposes on my intellectual and aesthetic patterns it's own. So now I am the owner of this funereal Hawaiian flatland. Is it dusk or is it dawn? The artist died very young. Could it be her prophetic fear of the impending darkness? Or could it be the nuclear dawn trying to crack the grey yolk of an Yves Tanguy wasteland? All we really know, is that is one eerie fire ball.
Marguerite Blasingame, 1906-1947, was a WPA sculptor, painter and author, who was born in Hawaaii, studied at Stanford, and died while traveling in Mexico.