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I want to pay attention to the quiet things. I want to listen to the seed pods and kiss their paper soft wings. I want to save the little pieces of love and pickle them for the winter. I am invested in the remnants, skins and flesh left behind, uneaten. My work is an ode to generational trauma and healing, exploring material as it relates to my history. Each piece is imbued with my body. They connect to various parts of me: my hair, my eggs, my skin, and my form. Using materials that require a delicate hand and patience, my labor is meditative in nature.
I am creating through methods and materials that are seemingly disparate, but call for me to draw them together. Scouring the world around me, I rediscover beauty long overlooked. Cheek to cheek, latex lays with beancurd skin. Former shells of fertility become wrapped in hair, cut from my nape. I nurture bacteria and yeast in cold basements, their silky membranes drying to leather. Sitting patiently with them, I tenderly caress them into forms that I see fit. I coat them endlessly, preserving them in latex, imbuing them with my protection. I am trying however desperately, to hold one to the residue of care.
Through these pieces I express my understanding of spirituality, loss, forgiveness, and a mourning of fertility. It is very hard for me to speak with words, I use my work to reveal and communicate vulnerability. Exposing the softest, most tender parts of myself is my calling, and I hope to reach you.
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