Wonderkind 2
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In Wonderkind 2 the angel is facing us but it remains faceless. It’s blonde fringe covering its features protecting us from its gaze. It is listening; its head is attentive, its hair is raised over its ears. What are we asking? Would it or could it respond? Perhaps it is listening for the sound of its audience’s own awe. Black bars cross the sky. It presents itself as totemic and stylized, wrapped in curls, fur and crumpled fabric it is almost cocooned. It stands self contained, its wings fully stretched and fanned. Like a peacock It has become an emblem of display perched on its plinth.
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