During the COVID-19 outbreak, most of us are deeply missing physical touch that video calls simply can’t match. I packed up my studio like a flood was coming, haphazardly grabbing scraps of paper and random supplies. The result at my cramped, shared dining table has been mini meditations on severed connections in need of mending. These painted bits are burned and torn, and then stitched back together over studies of human touch and grief.
A portion of the proceeds will go to an emergency fund for artists.