The Weight of Grounded Things
There is a particular stillness that arrives when the air is heavy with the scent of dry earth and sun-warmed stone. In the north, we rarely experience this; our light is thin, filtered through layers of mist or the sharp, biting clarity of…
The Geometry of Sustenance
I have always been suspicious of the way we try to dress up the mundane. We take the things that keep us alive—the simple, messy, necessary things—and we try to turn them into something decorative, something that belongs in a gallery rather…
The Weight of Unspoken Histories
It is 3:15 am. The house is holding its breath, and I am finally listening to the things I spent the day drowning out. We spend so much time performing for the light, curating the versions of ourselves that are palatable to the world. But in…