Ann Lauterbach

 

Found Credo

The tiny collage, measuring no more than 8½ x 11", found under what appears to be a sort of paper compost—drafts of poems, postcards from Vermont, assorted photos of children and old persons, some dust jackets and bits of torn wallpaper, torn and much underscored Xeroxes, invitations to exhibitions, student essays—depicts the Goddess, Credo, sitting on a dilapidated garden chair with a book on her lap. A bird of prey—an owl or a hawk—sits on her right shoulder, its wings outstretched. The Goddess holds in her left hand a scroll, which falls across her torso and down into the foreground, where it becomes a river. The river is opaque in parts, translucent in others; in its currents are partial glimpses of scenes from histories, novels, plays, films, documentaries, and so forth. To the left of the seated figure is an immense urn-shaped vase in which a great bouquet of flowers flourishes, while to her right, a second vase lies broken in bright shards, its contents strewn. The sky behind Credo is of an indefinite hue, a haunted mauve, suggesting either early dawn or late dusk, depending on your point of view On the other hand, this odd glow could be that of a distant city, an artificial luminosity emanating from a great metropolis. In the middle distance, a mirrored globe hangs suspended from an invisible thread.

Credo is shown with her head turned directly toward the spectator, her eyes in a steady gaze. Her long auburn hair is braided and pinned up across her head. Her right hand is extended, its palm open. The Goddess is wearing a transparent yellow garment, the color of mimosa, through which a scar is visible across her abdomen; her feet are bare. She wears on her left wrist a cluster of silver bracelets, from which hang many charms: heart, key, moon, flute, cup, moth, oar, comb, shoe, scissors, clock, cat. Credo’s mouth is open slightly, as if she were about to speak or to be kissed.