Silver gelatin paper. 2020
Spring in the Rocky Mountains is a delightful season of growth and rebirth. Brown patches of dirt or entire mountain sides start to slowly show spurs of green. In March of 2020, while the world was coming to a halt due to the Covid-19 pandemic, nature was undeterred - it continued to bloom and blossom, encouraged by the warmer, longer days of Spring, unaffected by the human chaos surrounding it.
One of the first, lasting impacts of the pandemic was the fear of touching. Suddenly, the act of hugging a friend or shaking hands was an act of violence. Touching was loaded with fear of transmission of a deadly disease. I started making these prints to celebrate the human touch. These images record my touch on the surface of the paper, a gesture to symbolize the missed hugs of comfort, support, and love that we could not share with our family and friends. In my backyard, I discovered a world that refused to stop thriving, and used the seedlings of weeds, dandelions, tulips, and vegetables to form a bond with my touch.
The relationship between humans and nature is complicated and tragic. We are a species that continuously abuses our planet, destroys the resources that sustain life, but whose constructed world broke apart due to the smallest possible life form. Touching presents an intimate world of contemplation, where the human touch and nature exist in symbiosis, supporting and celebrating each other.
Working from home, I had more time to spend in the studio, and my art practice was a relief of the daily anxiety. Especially during shelter-in-place, I reconnected with the artist community and reached out for weekly critiques in groups.
