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I am in an ever-evolving relationship with the world, myself and my art. My journey has been a continued pledge to release perfectionism and to become friends with my fear, judgement and discomfort. Creating art, especially with my hands, helps me make sense of an often confusing and dark world. Raw truth co-habit questions, and the messy rouses bravery. Drawing heavy inspiration from nature, many of my works feature natural elements interwoven with perfect imperfection. The mediums change as frequently as my moods. Many pieces challenge societal norms, such as the rejection of nudity or the shame + guilt in receiving pleasure. All aim to inspire liberation and self-acceptance. In this way, my work is both a protest and a conversation. All are co-created with source.
“The role of the artist is to make the revolution irresistible.”
— Toni Cade Bambara
Womanhood, 2020
Acrylic, plant sourced materials, ink, and menstrual blood on paper
This is an exploration of the seasons + cycles of birth and death found in both nature and women. It is my interpretation of the photo Labor by Rebecca Coursey.
It was channeled through four female muses: Eunique Deann, birthwork advocate + doula, Brittney Ellers, cycle educator, Mother Earth, and Dana Diamant, Red Tent author.
Strawberry Nipples, 2020
Acrylic, strawberries, ink, on paper
It all began with farming. Spending long hours sweating into the dirt. Sun soaked tomatoes bursting into my mouth, their juice dripping down my chin, temporarily staining my clothes.
I don’t know if I’m making love to myself, or the tomato. Is there a difference?
It led to questioning nudity, femininity, connection to the earth, our bodies, food systems. Who has the privilege to farm by choice? Does everyone have the privilege to explore sensuality?
Flesh, 2020
Pen, mixed berries, on paper
Accompanied listening: Wildfires by SAULT & Freedom by Beyoncé
Accompanied reading: Heavy by Kiese Laymon
Accompanied viewing: One Night in Miami
It was the height of BLM. The State was on fire. Skin color was a hot topic. I wanted to rip mine off. I ran a lot those days. When I was stuck inside, I would move, in the only way I truly knew how: through my body. Dance dance dance away, I tried to dance away the injustice, my privilege, my anger, my inadequacy, my hypocrisy, judgement, guilt. Sometimes I would go for walks with a friend whose skin is a different color than most people in our neighborhood. We would talk and walk and talk and walk and sometimes cry until we got hungry and then we would eat and laugh. One day I got naked and she filmed me moving across her studio, a light cotton curtain brushing against my shoulder. I felt free, as I have my whole life, except the times when I did not feel free because I am a woman. As we smushed berries between each other’s hands, our stories swirled, sisters in our ancestry and mothers hereafter, until the pop of sucking raspberries off my fingers brought me back to reality.
Movement, 2020
Pen, plant sourced materials, on paper