The Idea
The Idea

gouache&pen on paper

2020

creative drive is not a light bulb which you can turn on and off at a whim. ideas are often surprises, nurtured in our deep, damp, dark parts. They insinuate roots into the soil of our thoughts until they rear into the world, not fully formed like Athena from her father's forehead, but alive and demanding to be heard all the same.

what can we do but help them grow or allow them to die?

Stacked
Stacked

2018
gouache&pen on paper

what is the measure of a woman? her height? her weight? her cup size? what she looks like with her clothes off?

how many books she’s read? the continents she’s crossed? the words she has spoken? the degrees she’s earned? the kindness she has shown? the lives she has saved?

here is the measure of a woman: exactly one human person, with all the multitudes they contain. no more, and no less.

nightshade
nightshade

ink&goauche on paper

2018

there is no sweeter anarchy than a riotous tomato garden. close cousins of the poisonous nightshade, their scratching stalks burst through flimsy cages and erupt from my pores, volunteers springing up in last year's compost like clockwork.

like the moon, like menstrual cycles, blood red pops of acid and water swell and drop from their slightly poisonous vines. an itch on the top of your mouth you can never scratch. a wet pop. delicious.

from the ashes
from the ashes

2018

gouache and pen

fire is an undoing, not a destruction.

from our fingers, movements grow.

the tilling of the earth necessary to gestate new seeds, the renewed growth of forests after a fire, the breaking up of established unjust order, by any means necessary.

disparagus (2017)
disparagus (2017)

draw upon the strength
you built up in your roots
winter’s been long and cold
you will send forth new shoots

in their first year, asparagus crowns send forth spindling tender shoots. it is only with time and careful planning that they survive the winter to sprout anew, strong and tall. like most plants, asparagus uses its failures to tend its growth. sadness is pointless if it doesn’t lead to change, to rebirth, reconsideration, and renewal. it cannot be an end. only a transition to change.

sunflower.jpg
stay cool.jpg
palette.jpg
IMG_2371.jpg
blooming.jpg
persimmonwitch.jpg
The Idea
Stacked
nightshade
from the ashes
disparagus (2017)
sunflower.jpg
stay cool.jpg
palette.jpg
IMG_2371.jpg
blooming.jpg
persimmonwitch.jpg
The Idea

gouache&pen on paper

2020

creative drive is not a light bulb which you can turn on and off at a whim. ideas are often surprises, nurtured in our deep, damp, dark parts. They insinuate roots into the soil of our thoughts until they rear into the world, not fully formed like Athena from her father's forehead, but alive and demanding to be heard all the same.

what can we do but help them grow or allow them to die?

Stacked

2018
gouache&pen on paper

what is the measure of a woman? her height? her weight? her cup size? what she looks like with her clothes off?

how many books she’s read? the continents she’s crossed? the words she has spoken? the degrees she’s earned? the kindness she has shown? the lives she has saved?

here is the measure of a woman: exactly one human person, with all the multitudes they contain. no more, and no less.

nightshade

ink&goauche on paper

2018

there is no sweeter anarchy than a riotous tomato garden. close cousins of the poisonous nightshade, their scratching stalks burst through flimsy cages and erupt from my pores, volunteers springing up in last year's compost like clockwork.

like the moon, like menstrual cycles, blood red pops of acid and water swell and drop from their slightly poisonous vines. an itch on the top of your mouth you can never scratch. a wet pop. delicious.

from the ashes

2018

gouache and pen

fire is an undoing, not a destruction.

from our fingers, movements grow.

the tilling of the earth necessary to gestate new seeds, the renewed growth of forests after a fire, the breaking up of established unjust order, by any means necessary.

disparagus (2017)

draw upon the strength
you built up in your roots
winter’s been long and cold
you will send forth new shoots

in their first year, asparagus crowns send forth spindling tender shoots. it is only with time and careful planning that they survive the winter to sprout anew, strong and tall. like most plants, asparagus uses its failures to tend its growth. sadness is pointless if it doesn’t lead to change, to rebirth, reconsideration, and renewal. it cannot be an end. only a transition to change.

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