drawing with sharp objects
2019 5” x 7” gold leaf, ink
I follow the soft voices floating up from the valley.
2019 — 1” x 2”
2018 — 5.5” x 6”
She pulled out her book and thumbed to Chapter 3 - Red. She eased the wilted flower into position and smiled.
2018 — 5.5” x 6.5”
She watched them float up one by one, hovering above like confused clouds.
The circles grew louder and needier until they choked the sky with their pulsing.
2019 — 5” x 6”
It was softer than she’d expected.
2019 — 5” x 7”
She pushed forward carefully, remembering to not look too far down or too far up.
2018 — 8.5” x 11”
Some nights her dreams tilted down. Some nights her dreams tilted up.
The bubbles stared back at me from the pot like tiny eyes.
2018 — 5” x 6”
They screamed so no one could hear.
2020 — 5” x 5”
To see and be seen.
The crown pressed into her silver hair. It was always heavier these nights.
2017 — 6” x 8”
The things of the night are best left apart from the things of the day.
2017 — 5” x 8.5”
They always wear black. They always bring someone wrapped in blankets.
No one remembers when it was carved but we still light it each night.
I’ve been getting better at holding my breath.
The kelp brushed against her skin like wet silk.
The kelp brushed against his skin like wet silk.
2019 — 8.5” x 11” (commission) [SOLD]
2018 — 5.5” x 6” [SOLD]
2019 — 5” x 6” [SOLD]
They walked, feet crunching against the wheat shafts. One carried a bottle of wine and the other two glasses.
2020 — 4” x 5” [SOLD]
I am visiting you.
2020 — 5” x 7” [SOLD]
Some nights a voice, others a weaving melody.
2018 — 8.5” x 11” [SOLD]
You call to me, a lovely siren. But will you harbor my broken body, if I crash against your shore?
2017 — 8.5” x 11” [SOLD]
2018 — 5.5” x 7” [SOLD]
She waits, fixed in the water, for pieces of her memories to wash ashore.
She stepped into the ebbing water and smiled as gravity hugged her.
2018 — 5.5” x 6.5” [SOLD]
When her arms tired, she began to slip down into the darkness, floating only by her lungs.
2018 — 5” x 6” [SOLD]
It reached out into the void, searching for what it knew must be there.
It tugs at the silk with each thump.