Laura Rokas
Once in Two Moons
Like most of Laura Rokas’s hand-stitched works, Once in Two Moons was made while she sat in bed, imbuing the work with a tender sense of domestic intimacy. The scene’s dominant figure is a faceless woman whose blood red, dagger-like fingernails, polka dot jacket, and jet black hair resemble a sort of avatar of the artist. The figure surveys a chaotic scene that might be described as a “cute apocalypse” (a phrase Rokas says is characteristic of her work in general). The quilt features nearly fifty strange, and at times menacing, hand-embroidered elements that could be drawn from a spooky underworld: a two-headed ghost, a leathery snake, a voyeur in the clouds, and a cackling mouth with uneven teeth congregate amidst a catastrophic combination of weather conditions.
Some of the other embroidered imagery is oddly specific and seemingly nonsensical, such as a pink flag stuck into an orange traffic cone, or a vehicle engulfed in flames. These images are part of Rokas’s personal lexicon that signify specific memories and events. For instance, the cop car belonged to Rokas’s friend and was set on fire while parked on the street in Oakland. Taking an even closer look, a cell phone peeking out of the woman’s pocket reads Friday the 13th—a superstitious day for many, and in particular for Rokas, as she was involved in a terrible accident on that date many years ago. Regardless of the meanings inscribed in Once in Two Moons, the work triggers a litany of questions about the choices we make day to day, and how much our understanding of it is influenced by the images we ingest, and the events we encounter.