The most beautiful age is this one., mixed media, 2021
the woman of a moment ago is absolute. finite as the oranges on this coffee table she is a shape. extracted from the shapes i live in. both my eyes and my pendulum she is blank on all sides. her hair is full of scales, lawnmowers, stars. in the evening, she immerses herself in rainwater, drowns her breasts like giant archipelagos (mine are not so giant) they keep latitudes she makes living look easy. loving like the back of a postcard she says, the most beautiful age is always this one and i, not quite young, not quite calloused, not salty enough to speak with any real blood close my eyes and write your name
The most beautiful age is this one. is another experiment with burnt paper ash. (I think I mentioned previously that I’m trying to expand the limits of what I can do with paper.) I’m reasonably happy with it; although, I have more experimenting to do. Regardless, there is something wonderfully cathartic about setting paper on fire, dipping your hands in the ashes, and then smearing with abandon.