Tearing Out the Given - SOLD OUT

Signed and numbered limited edition of 30
14 x 21 in. (35.6 x 53.3 cm) – Slightly smaller than original painting. Size includes border.

Printed with %100 archival inks on an heavy weight photo-rag paper, thick and soft, similar to the paper the original drawing was made on.

Printed on demand and locally to support small businesses, so please allow three weeks for printing and packaging.

To honor the nature of limited edition prints, once they sell out, they are gone!

Prints are shipped in a sturdy cardboard tube, rolled safely in a protective plastic sleeve. Because of the aggressive nature of the mail system, this has proven to be both the safest, and most affordable shipping method. All products are packaged by just little ole me so please allow up to three weeks to receive your purchase (international orders can take up to 5 weeks depending on customs). I try to send orders out at the beginning of each week, but sometimes life has hiccups!

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About the Print:
I was never going to be unscathed--this is not that sort of thing--but I find myself asking where to put this pain. Into an external place; something I can touch or paint? Or behind an invisible fence, a mental burrow sectioned off in red. I have invasive thoughts, future dreams that can never happen due to change and past negotiations that did. In grief I create a ruthlessness towards self and naming; an internal butchery of how things were supposed to work if I was good. Two versions of me are in dispute, one attempting to sever the other and my hunt for clarity, a massacre.

It’s the questions we never see coming that fragment our sense of belonging—it’s in the intimacy of wounds, created by others, by self. And now all these pieces lie on the bedspread and I fear I’m getting worse, I can’t fit them back together. I look into the tear for a solution, a blossom fully formed. I want singularity, a oneness within myself, I want to refuse the givens.

Is there away to move in multiplicity? What must I sever and what must I adopt?

And so, I bury a seed—Crocus in white. And with bated breath watch for it to break frozen ground in the coming spring, a hope I can pullulate into a new sense of delicate self.