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I put on warm clothes and hopped on my bike for Bald Hill. There was nothing left of the fog but what harm was there in enjoying the January sun even if alarmingly unseasonable? Along the bike path a Red Tail swooped off a power line into the grass, a Downy Woodpecker hopped around the backside of a tree by the trail.
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I stop and draw a tree. It is not any great study, I’m hungry, the high sun has washed out all subtlety, and my attention span has left with the sparrows. Sometimes it's enough to do one tiny thing. Back on the bike path the horses linger along the fence line wearing blankets that make them look like monks. A harrier flies over and lands in the middle of the field where there may have been a mouse. |
Featuring visual art, fiber art, writing, spoken word, music, video and performance, in contemplation of isolation and femininity.
What is it to identify as femme/construct femininity, in this current moment?
What is it to navigate femininity through chronic conditions, trauma, heartbreak?
What does it mean to get all dressed up, with nowhere to go?
*Some work featured may be nsfw.
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018