arterms:
You always know a Kathleen Judge picture. The nervous, angular lines and stark, lonesome subject-matter are recognizable from across the room in bars, nightclubs, galleries, and wherever else they have taste enough to show her work.
The warehouses, wrecked cars, forlorn music-makers, and everything else she renders are things I know, so when I see one of her pictures out of the corner of my eye somewhere out in Chicago, it’s like being reminded of something from way back.