In Eliza Frye’s latest graphic story, we’re confronted by three bodies. Man, woman, and horse constitute the images of the story, with the curves of shoulder, haunch, and sloping nose appearing almost as if without frame or containing panel. The bodies provide the visual structure. The story is of lovers, and in the heroine’s averted face we see the first bite of lovesickness. In the curl of her body and in his languid arm across her, we feel the peacefulness of the lovers at rest. In the sinewed shadow of the horse, whose energy threatens to disrupt the structure, there’s the drive of passion.
Frye lets the images do most of the work. We don’t hear the courtship dialogue or grow used to the cowboyish stranger. Lightly touching our literary senses, Frye all the more arouses pleasure in all our other senses.