A detail from current studio work in progress. I am thinking about the intersection of ugly and pretty. Is this a juxtaposition that lifts prettiness by comparison, or is the ugly loaned qualities of pretty? Too often I see interpretations of ugliness as an infection of its surroundings, overshadowing or overcoming adjacent visual narratives. Instead…
Today, I wrote a letter to your best friend instead of to you March 10, 2017 Lies we tell ourselves March 22, 2017 I will you to disappear from my broken reflection April 19, 2017 painted husk rolling out before me like so many hills rains and their bows overflowing canyons with color I never…
3 years ago, today you mailed an envelope containing 1 Buddha statue encased in clay. “Without the crack, you never would have known the gold was there.” Kintsugi, I evoke, and say, my clay is broken. Who will fill my fault lines with gold?
Numbness like this isn’t the feeling of nothing. It is every color painted on a silent and motionless wave peaceful in its cacophony.
I’m feeling so green the longer I’m apart from you. It’s the color of unkempt hope in chilling coves.
You and I never understood green. There was simply no room. But babe, I’m beginning to
I am fondest of orangey-yellow, I said. Or just orange. Or just yellow.
At this stage, I commit to covering every reachable surface with paint — not just the visible.