Celebrate Trans Day of Divinity by eating snacks in bed and envisioning a future without police, white supremacy, or racist+transphobic violence. // ID: Selfie of D., a disabled nonbinary person with glasses and shoulder length brown hair, is lying amongst gray-covered pillows and cuddling a family-size package of double stuf oreos. They are looking at the camera with a tired, barely-there Mona Lisa smile. // #TransDayOfDivinity #QueerDisabledandPowerful #TransAndTiredAF #GenderqueersEatingCookies #NonbinaryBabesWithSnacks #IWishTodayMeantAllTransPeopleCouldAccessVaccines #ButInstead #IWillSettleForOreos
The bathtub at the end of my tunnel. Right now there’s only a towel, a bar of @mayamadeapothecary soap, and this little philodendron friend to keep me company in an otherwise empty space, but next week it’ll be home for good. Thank you endlessly to @ownmpls for helping me find a beautiful, functional, and accessible live-work space where I can put down roots. At the moment my legs are covered in bruises from packing, one side of my jaw is still displaced from eating dinner last night (thanks EDS!), anxiety + pain levels are high high, and the pandemic is making everything more challenging, but I’m so grateful for this gift of space and can’t wait to nest and get back to work soon. Holding my poet and artist communities in my heart all day every day as I pack up your artwork, cards, broadsides, books, and other reminders that we will be together again one day. I miss you. I need you. Thank you for being here.
This morning I took a break from packing up my work space to celebrate a moment of materials joy—discovering that my @beampaints collection fits perfectly inside a brie cheese box I had saved in my box of boxes (a studio staple for me!). If you haven’t admired Beam paints or used them yourself, you’re missing out on the most special, lovingly-made paints out there. Beam is an Indigenous woman-owned business making watercolors, gouaches, and inks by hand with natural ingredients on Manitoulin Island, Canada. They also have great IG video tutorials. I’ve given these as gifts and have so many plans for these colors once I’m settled in my new space and can sink into my art practice again. Thank you, Beam, for all you do!
Still here, just been staying behind the scenes. I’m moving house next month and my glamorous mischievous roommate is keeping me on my toes by attempting to chew all the corners off my cardboard boxes 🐰 I am trying to stay balanced with baths and 1:1 video calls with beloveds and (slowly) creating whatever work will come. My new 🙏🌞🌈🪴🌸 accessible and long-term 🌸🪴🌈🌞🙏 place will just be one neighborhood over, and I hope that when it’s safe we can gather there for sourdough biscuits and bourbon and hot tea and calling our reps and regrouping after protest actions and celebrating after poetry readings. Once I am stable and safe and have more capacity again, I am looking forward to expanding my knowledge in the realm of housing justice, and directing some of my energy to that work. We all deserve safe, accessible, affordable, peaceful shelter and it is too difficult for too many of us for an overwhelming heap of reasons. // In the meantime, let me know if you’re in the Twin Cities and want some furniture (name your price, including $0); I’ve got short bookshelves, two work tables, 4 matching dining chairs, a glass-fronted cabinet, vintage steamer trunk, and some odds and ends. DM me or stay tuned for Instagram story sales this weekend and next week.
Winter Solstice hearth with @alysiamazzella beeswax tapers, potted philodendron, an orange, some special stones, my childhood turtle lamp, and a handmade lace placemat by my one of my maternal ancestors. There are photos of my beloved maternal grandparents, Jean and Paul, and my Nana’s cousin Dorothy, who died of MS before I was born but who I feel like I got to know through my Nana and through some of her possessions that are now in my care. On my altar is a tiny black and white photo of Dorothy as a child, and a framed Christmas letter she wrote to Santa in December 1916, practicing her cursive. “Dear Santa Claus,” she wrote, “I am trying hard to be a good girl so you will being me lots of things. I want a little brown and white muff, also some oranges and bananas. I shall be satisfied with these.” She signed the letter “Your little friend—“. Just something soft to keep her hands warm, a bit of bright food, and the feeling of satisfaction. I wish these things for you too in the days ahead.
STITCH GALAXIES // A needle’s eye view of my winter Solstice jacket, for which I’m now accepting sliding-scale expressions of interest on my website until this Saturday, 12/26/20. If you are interested in the jacket, all the info you need is in my recent posts and at thebodyconnected.com/offerings, or feel free to DM me with questions. I’d love this piece to go to someone who loves it. // If you know me, you may know that I love photographing textiles nearly as much as I love making them, maybe because my poet’s heart reimagines all those tiny stitches into coded script that holds many stories. The silent 1-minute video is a macro scan of the jacket’s details: natural fiber threads in deep blue, cream, and aqua-green-pinks, embroidered on grey velvet patches, which are chain-stitched by hand on a slate blue cotton jacket. The designs are abstract and evoke rays of light, the winter darkness, the Northern lights, and the overall feeling of the winter Solstice. // #WinterSolstice #TextileArtist #GeologicTime #TextileTimekeeping #QueerArtist #DisabledArtist #ArtistsWithEDS
