Visually inhaling these inky, tar-washed portraits of Frances Bean Cobain, rolled tightly with photos of her father, Kurt's, memorabilia: Christian relics, prized totems, hilarious gewgaw, are like taking a long, deep drag off of the cigarette that coyly pacifies her sultry, reminiscently-iconic lips. Lips that secure the butt end dampened by saliva containing a DNA cocktail of two of Rock's most notoriously intoxicating//intoxicated connubial characters: Courtney and Kurt. Addicted lips that blow the same brand of kiss and that her mother, Courtney, used to use (pre-botox) to spew lyrics that fueled and decorated her wild and turbulent career. That, too, almost romanticized addiction. Pillows of flesh that capture your stare before releasing you upwards towards beautiful, annular, cobalt marbles that some of us were introduced to when they first were presented to us behind straggly strands of blonde hair that decorated a now iconic man in the early nineties. Childlike eyes that seem to speak volumes - both now and then. While the emulsion on these is practically still wet, the images seem familiar. As if someone found a box of images under a pile of plaid shirts, baby doll dresses and guitars. The revealing of her seemingly newly baptized-by-womanhood face that you almost know gives life to a sonorous sound, over and under pursing, breathing life into arts and crafts created from those tattooed hands that due to straight genetics alone must hold talent. That genetically superior face staring through you behind a billowy vail of biological ghosts. The framing few inches of bleach-white paper burn sensuously against the swirling of sewn-up and chemical ebony, ivory celebrity skin and pretty doll parts.
From the origin of these photos, to what the google gods will bless you with, Frances Bean does not appear to be choking on the ashes of enemies resulting in the after-math of her parent's numerous battles. At least not on the outside. But we all know scars run deep. The scrolls of wisdom etched fathomless on outstretched arms, stained like coal if nothing else speak of someone who has experienced life far beyond her years.
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