Deep shame can become part of us, sometimes to such an extent that we’re not sure we can do without it. When my mom passed away, guilt and shame haunted me – for things I had and hadn’t said; had and hadn’t done. For me it was like a tragically beautiful dress, so heavy that it kept me juuuust underwater. Simultaneously familiar and weirdly safe, but always keeping me a moment away from being able to draw breath properly.
Photopolymer Intaglio - Charbonnel ink on Stonehenge paper
October 31, 2017