Melissa Carroll's Technicolor Dream
A life-changing diagnosis and three years of suffering yield an unexpected fountain of inspiration for one young Brooklyn artist.
“Everyone tells you how strong you are and how brave you are, but you would do this too if this happened to you.”
Melissa Carroll adjusts a long tuft of hair from her wig as she speaks. We’re waiting to cross West 24th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues. The cabs are full. It’s 5:45 p.m., fifteen minutes before Carroll’s first solo show in Chelsea. It just rained, so the air is thick but the light is perfect. She looks over and smiles.
“I’m kind of nervous,” she says, although her tone is light. In her white blazer pocket are two hand-painted wooden vials full of her medication.
We pass by men and women. They cast long glances at Carroll because she is undeniably and classically beautiful. Her large blue-green eyes sparkle, her complexion is milky white. There’s an internal and external quality to her beauty. She laughs easily, smiles often, is always friendly – effervescent, yet real.
“They said, ‘I can’t believe you do what you’re doing; I’d stay in bed all day and …