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A lot of people have seen The Ryan Series, because the initial run of twenty-two drawings was accepted into the Pierogi Art Gallery's Flat-Files in February 2007. Apparently, when people see this stuff, they don't ask Gabriela how well-endowed I really am. They do ask, however, if I'm good at cunnilingus. The drawing, "Ryan Telling His Mother About Me On The Phone" depicts my furrowed brow and closed eyes buried between her legs. It's easily her funniest title, and though my face is obscured, you can tell I'm giving it my all.
But most of the questions about the drawings have nothing to do with sex. The primary question people ask after viewing them is, "Why does Ryan cry so much?" I'd like to say the crying drawings are more artistic liberties, but they aren't. Looking back, it seems like we fought constantly, and always about the same thing: the nature of our relationship. Being the non-pants wearer, I was always demanding more commitment. Gabriela, pants prominently displayed, was fresh off a complicated four-year marriage and wanted more freedom. The concept of a "green-light" was broached several times. She wanted the ability to see other people, but remain with me. On several occasions — most notably during the now-infamous L-train crying jag — the idea of an open relationship reduced me to tears. "Ryan Crying on the L Train" depicts my neck and chin next to the window of a subway car. Like in the others, my face is mostly obscured. I like to think the exclusion of my face from Gabriela's work makes me a consummate everyman: well-endowed, pushover, non-pants-wearer, crybaby.
So, back to Star Trek. The great thing about dating foreign women is they don't have the same prejudices about sci-fi that many American girls seem to have. To Gabriela, Star Trek was just one more part of our weird, monolithic pop-culture. "Ryan Telling Me a Star Treck Episode From Start to Finish" is a cute illustration of this aspect of our time together.
I like to think the exclusion of my face from Gabriela's work makes me a consummate everyman: well-endowed, pushover, non-pants-wearer, crybaby. |
She misspelled the word "Trek" — I didn't have the heart to tell her, and the piece was accepted with the others by the gallery regardless. Later, she was profoundly offended that I hadn't alerted her to the error, and hastily drew a new one. The drawing itself was another one of the side of my face, this time on a pillow. Which episode was I telling her about? I'd given her the rundown of several, so it's hard to say. I like to think I was telling her about the episode in which William Shatner tells Joan Collins that in the future, a poet would recommend replacing the phrase "I love you" with "Let me help."
Before I get to the part where our relationship disintegrates, it's important to highlight one more drawing from The Ryan Series. It's not Gabriela's favorite, but I'm pretty sure it's mine. Being a thin guy who wears women's jeans because they fit better means I'm frequently the same weight as many women I've fallen in love with. Having a thirty-inch waist and kabob-skewer arms doesn't make me the kind of guy who can scoop up a girl and whisk her away. But Gabriela is tiny, and the drawing "Ryan Carrying Me Across The Street" captures this. It's two simple, diagonal, intersecting lines. It doesn't indicate which streets we were on, but it was somewhere in Soho. We had just seen Woody Allen's Manhattan at the Film Forum. Idealism, youth and love will occasionally combine to create memorable moments like this. I picked her up and carried her to the restaurant, where we had a late dinner.
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