An achromatic purple. Cold yet laced with umber. Not quite maroon.
Wet without warmth. Grey without commitment
If winter was a color; If winter was a feeling: I’ve found this to be it.
Outside the same: pollution, decay, and morning light
A global pandemic lingers on the mind yet it still feels so far away.
The sun shines as the season turns and 3 days remain until Cuomo reopens my world.
Still I’m not ready to go outside
Strange are the cold comforts are the physical barriers of isolation.
Quarantine at least reminds me of my place in the larger whole.
The contemporary dystopia, suburbs have been the historic playground of discrimination as they are a landscape build to divide. With barriers barely visible, this landscape was the idealized site of the American dream. Instead of indulging conventions of romantic fantasy, I aspire to make artwork that reflects the world I have lived in. I seek to understand this purgatory and the beauty that line between.