Around Thanksgiving of 2005, news coverage of the avian flu began converging with images and talk of Thanksgiving turkeys.  Televised images of the mass extermination of diseased birds followed shots of turkeys in clipped-wing flocks, running directionless patterns around farm yards, and the obvious connections were made; people began asking whether it was safe to eat the turkeys. Was there really cause for alarm, or did the quantity of turkeys up for the slaughter merely remind people of the mounds of bird carcasses being pushed into mass graves on TV?  With sensationalized news covering the break-ups and pregnancies of celebrities in equal proportion to the bird flu, the distinction was (and is) difficult to make.  In either case the varnish spread thin and it was clear for the moment that familiar, sentimentalized holiday visions - families gathering around a beautiful, well-cooked bird, the president cutely pardoning a turkey in a bow tie - are fairly optimistic portrayals of what goes on, bird-wise, around Thanksgiving.  Suddenly people were seeing the turkey as a bird that might carry the flu.

Incredibly, at about the same time, romanticized bird imagery was becoming one of the biggest trends in home décor.  In just the last few months of 2005 I saw: file folders, journals, jewelry, multiple styles of Christmas ornaments, decorative ceramics, drawer pulls, cards, wallpaper, napkins, tablecloths, placemats, clothing (and accessories), umbrellas, serving ware, designer candy wrappers, glassware, tiles, bedding, throw pillows, stamps, (cup)cakes and pastries, aprons, oven mitts, dish towels, hot pads, candles, perfume packaging, gift packaging, shower curtains, window curtains, bath products, hair accessories, stationery, soaps, and innumerable other manifestations of decorative birds. 

In this phenomenon lies another disconnect between fantasy and reality: as the world stands on the verge of a possible pandemic with birds at the center, people are decorating their homes with sentimentalized avian imagery. 

With baby birds as the subjects – blind, insatiable and raw - “Bird Flew” suggests a metaphor for our own insatiable appetites (for food, products, news, and more).  The stuffing of regurgitated food and partially digested insects down the throats of baby birds recalls “stuffing” as a staple of the Thanksgiving meal - where you eat until you’re “stuffed”- and the psychology of a culture that results in the advent of such tributes to excess as the “stuffed crust pizza”. 

The birds are drawn in pencil, topographical line weaving over and under paint, drawing out shapes that break the birds apart while unifying form. Clouds of red dots swim around centers of disease transmission - scaled legs and feet, beaks, claws, anuses, and mouths.  Distorted, grotesque and, at times, darkly humorous, “Bird Flew” offers an alternate perception of birds.