AE Four

Four
May 18, 2025
Materials: Art Panel, black and white photo, gouache, gel medium, acrylic paint, sharpie

Original + Print available

Original is A4 size: 210 mm x 297 mm / 8.3 in x 11.7 in

Print is A3 size: 297 mm x 420 mm / 29.7 cm x 42 cm / 11.7 in x 16.5 in

Two Print options are available:

$35
Coated Matte paper
Printed in Lewes, UK
300 gsm
Archival 4-color ink
Signed

$45
Coated Photographic Satin paper
Printed in Lewes, UK
300 gsm
Archival 4-color ink
Giclee print
Signed

The Story:

True story.
Core memory.
I have always hated being tickled.
I hate that I’m ticklish.

It’s hazy. I was so young.

I don’t know who he was. But he was associated with my father. A friend? Coworker? Neighbor? I don’t know if I was ever told. But he was trusted enough to be alone with me. He was trusted enough to be allowed tickle me. And my family often had me and my sister in dresses back then.

The whole story is in this artwork. He was sitting and pulled me onto his lap, stomach down, and he was tickling me. I kicked, screamed, cried, and was hyperventilating from the whole mess of involuntary laughter while begging for him to stop and struggling to escape.

Where were my parents? Another room? Outside? I’m not a loud person anymore but I believe back then I screamed a lot when I thought it might help me get out of a situation I didn’t want to be in.

I don’t remember calling for my parents. This screaming was standard when I got tickled. They might’ve heard it, might not have. I don’t know.

He stopped tickling me, and I stopped screaming to catch my breath, thinking it was over, hoping he wouldn’t start up again, as often happened. My consent was clearly never a concern with tickling. That’s when he pulled my underwear aside and put his adult sized finger inside of me.

I think I cried. I clenched. I was frozen. I didn’t know what this was but I knew it hurt and thought it was bad.

And then he pulled me off him, stood me up and told me ‘go on, get out of here’. And I ran. I ran upstairs to my bedroom, closed the door and cried in my Strawberry Shortcake canopy bed. Too exhausted from the crying and tickling to move but too scared to fall asleep. I just lay there frozen in bed.

We moved to Maryland a little while later so I felt safe with the distance. Which I guess is how I always feel; escaped and safe far away.

I hate that this is one of my earliest memories.