About the work

I'd been sitting on a box of 1970s-era Life magazines from my grandmother along with some leftover tubes of paint. Then it was a trip to the craft store to pick up a silicon spatula because it looked interesting and some canvases to put it all on. Finally, it was 8 hours on my feet tearing interesting words out of those magazines I'd been saving for "something special" and layering subtle shifts in color on and off the surfaces, building up texture until I couldn't stand anymore. Because, really, my body was the only thing stopping me from saying what stuck out to me that day: "Look into my face and decide for yourselves if I am anyone worth talking to." Part of a collection.