CRASH SERIES
"Cradle" 2022. Car bumper, handmade synthetic yarn net. 75" by 68".
"Cradle" 2022. Car bumper, handmade synthetic yarn net. 75" by 58".
"I Hope it is Just for This Moment." 2022. Acrylic and Alcohol ink on Mylar. 93" by 50".
"Later Found" 2022. Acrylic on canvas board. 16" by 20".
"Slid" 2022. Acrylic on canvas board. 8" by 10".
Frame 1: “...and it blows up in your face without you realizing it. A single moment that will continue to echo behind your eyes as if it’s projecting from the recesses of your mind on repeat... and more than the pain, you feel the hurt. You feel the aching in your chest and the swell in your throat from a scream that won’t come out. Instead it’s a whisper, drowned out by tears, asking where it all went wrong when you feel like you did everything right. You’ll keep beating yourself up until someone drives by and sees your taillights baking against a glistening asphalt. They’ll ask if you need help and the answer is yes, but how does someone help in the midst of aftermath when it’s all said and done? What more can they do than help pull you out?”
Frame 2: “...and it blows up in your face without you realizing it. A single moment that will continue to echo behind your eyes as if it’s projecting from the recesses of your mind on repeat... and more than the pain, you feel the hurt. You feel the aching in your chest and the swell in your throat from a scream that won’t come out. Instead it’s a whisper, drowned out by tears, asking where it all went wrong when you feel like you did everything right. You’ll keep beating yourself up until someone drives by and sees your taillights baking against a glistening asphalt. They’ll ask if you need help and the answer is yes, but how does someone help in the midst of aftermath when it’s all said and done? What more can they do than help pull you out?”
Frame 3: “...and it blows up in your face without you realizing it. A single moment that will continue to echo behind your eyes as if it’s projecting from the recesses of your mind on repeat... and more than the pain, you feel the hurt. You feel the aching in your chest and the swell in your throat from a scream that won’t come out. Instead it’s a whisper, drowned out by tears, asking where it all went wrong when you feel like you did everything right. You’ll keep beating yourself up until someone drives by and sees your taillights baking against a glistening asphalt. They’ll ask if you need help and the answer is yes, but how does someone help in the midst of aftermath when it’s all said and done? What more can they do than help pull you out?”
Frame 4: “...and it blows up in your face without you realizing it. A single moment that will continue to echo behind your eyes as if it’s projecting from the recesses of your mind on repeat... and more than the pain, you feel the hurt. You feel the aching in your chest and the swell in your throat from a scream that won’t come out. Instead it’s a whisper, drowned out by tears, asking where it all went wrong when you feel like you did everything right. You’ll keep beating yourself up until someone drives by and sees your taillights baking against a glistening asphalt. They’ll ask if you need help and the answer is yes, but how does someone help in the midst of aftermath when it’s all said and done? What more can they do than help pull you out?”
Frame 5: “...and it blows up in your face without you realizing it. A single moment that will continue to echo behind your eyes as if it’s projecting from the recesses of your mind on repeat... and more than the pain, you feel the hurt. You feel the aching in your chest and the swell in your throat from a scream that won’t come out. Instead it’s a whisper, drowned out by tears, asking where it all went wrong when you feel like you did everything right. You’ll keep beating yourself up until someone drives by and sees your taillights baking against a glistening asphalt. They’ll ask if you need help and the answer is yes, but how does someone help in the midst of aftermath when it’s all said and done? What more can they do than help pull you out?”
"Disaster Form" 2022. Acrylic on paper. 12" by 18".