VOLUME 8 |ISSUE 1 |2017
Sad Clown: A drawing I did while still in the
Moonies. I drew this in 1997, just one year
before I decided to leave the Unification Church
and my husband. I just tried drawing a generic
face very quickly while standing at my kitchen
counter. I thought it turned out looking pretty
ridiculous. I didn’t want anyone to see it,
especially not my husband. Only much later did
I realize that face was mine. Perfectly capturing
my state at the time. This aging clown, having
to laboriously put on his happy act every single
day, is the most miserable of creatures. Gallons
of tears that have never been shed are all
gummed up inside his sinus cavities. His eyes
are the epitome of sadness. His mouth, red
and sensitive, can’t speak a word. His neck and
shoulders are completely rigid. He looks like
he is backing away from something coming at
him, but he can’t look up at it. The background
is a blank wall. The wide forehead is open, but
his pain is too great to see anything. He does
have a certain dignity, though. The dignity of
perseverance, if nothing else.
Help I’m Drowning: This is the only other
drawing that survives that I did while still in
the cult. I was shocked, at that time, for letting
myself draw a naked woman. I wasn’t supposed
to draw lewd images. But now I realize that
I am the naked girl trying to reach to some
heaven, and to get away from all the insanity.
I’m also the terrified, red-faced girl under my
knees. I’m the frightened nun, praying, and the
wailing baby, and the blue Teletubby whose
ear is being devoured by a horrible, clawed
creature with a heart in the process of being
eliminated from his body. The green creature
at the bottom right is watching from the deep
with blank eyes, like a benign vpresence. At
least the nude girl is completely above the fray,
and determined to rise upward.
2123
Sad Clown: A drawing I did while still in the
Moonies. I drew this in 1997, just one year
before I decided to leave the Unification Church
and my husband. I just tried drawing a generic
face very quickly while standing at my kitchen
counter. I thought it turned out looking pretty
ridiculous. I didn’t want anyone to see it,
especially not my husband. Only much later did
I realize that face was mine. Perfectly capturing
my state at the time. This aging clown, having
to laboriously put on his happy act every single
day, is the most miserable of creatures. Gallons
of tears that have never been shed are all
gummed up inside his sinus cavities. His eyes
are the epitome of sadness. His mouth, red
and sensitive, can’t speak a word. His neck and
shoulders are completely rigid. He looks like
he is backing away from something coming at
him, but he can’t look up at it. The background
is a blank wall. The wide forehead is open, but
his pain is too great to see anything. He does
have a certain dignity, though. The dignity of
perseverance, if nothing else.
Help I’m Drowning: This is the only other
drawing that survives that I did while still in
the cult. I was shocked, at that time, for letting
myself draw a naked woman. I wasn’t supposed
to draw lewd images. But now I realize that
I am the naked girl trying to reach to some
heaven, and to get away from all the insanity.
I’m also the terrified, red-faced girl under my
knees. I’m the frightened nun, praying, and the
wailing baby, and the blue Teletubby whose
ear is being devoured by a horrible, clawed
creature with a heart in the process of being
eliminated from his body. The green creature
at the bottom right is watching from the deep
with blank eyes, like a benign vpresence. At
least the nude girl is completely above the fray,
and determined to rise upward.
2123
