Dodo Reprise
Acrylic and paper on canvas
24"H X 25"W X 1.5"D
Oh look—it’s the Dodo, back from extinction and absolutely not amused. Perched on a pedestal of deep Mediterranean turquoise, this plump, pastel explosion of a bird is clearly here for one reason: to remind us that we’re the reason it no longer exists. The background? A sour apple green and dreamy blue haze, lazily haunted by crumbling ancient script that flickers in and out like a forgotten warning label we obviously ignored.
And then there's the bird itself. Sporting a body covered in unapologetically dramatic shades of pink, lavender, magenta, and violet, it’s less wildlife and more disgruntled drag royalty. The feet? Enormous, yellow, and scalier than your conscience—each claw sharp enough to carve your name into a list of regrets. Its tail feathers? A full-blown, couture-grade spectacle: black, fluffy, and shimmering with electric violet accents, like it just strutted out of a fashion show for extinct icons.
But the pièce de résistance is that face. That withering, side-eye stare—pure judgment, heavy with blame, and not even pretending to forgive. It's the look of a creature that knows exactly what went down and is making damn sure you do too. Extinction? Tragic. Caused by humans? Obviously. Forgotten? Not on his bird’s watch.
It’s beautiful. It’s bitter. It’s extinct—and it’s holding a grudge. Honestly, we deserve it.
