of dirt and silt and branch and bone
of dirt and silt and branch and bone is a body of work created during the 10-month Jerome Early Career Printmakers residency at Highpoint Center for Printmaking in Minneapolis. This work contains densely-layered and rendered lithographs that explore the tenderness, loneliness, acceptance, and gentle anger of queerness and healing. These prints and writings consider the physical and emotional spaces of love, hurt, trauma, and remembrance of relationships in the forms of drawn landscapes and queer symbolism of the day-to-day life of a queer person.
Home is something or someplace that all queer peoples dream of. Something to be found, regardless of support systems or upbringing.
There have been many a temporary home in many a man's arms, across state lines, in unsafe places, in uninhabitable solace, in protected warm embraces, across the hedge, and in mid-flight.
I still don't think I've found it, I might not ever.
This body of work examines those spaces and how I take up space as a queer person in rural places-something that is rapidly changing as it becomes unsafe to exist and unsafe to love in the environments I was born into. It’s easy for queer people to get used to resilience and ignore the trauma that we face every day, even from our own community and partners and it’s my hope that these spaces can offer solace to someone who has faced the same.
The woods and fields do not judge, or mock.
And the birds are just as migratory as I.
"let Adam's bite obstruct my my breath until i respire men. Press his rib against my throat until my lips turn blue. running scared like that of a frightened hare, only to dive under and through and behind.
to bury yourself into the dirt and silt and clay. for the love of all protection and separation.
I do not think it is "fight or flight" and I do not think to run is cowardly. for my wild troubled him,
as if i were a frightful creature-and a flight risk. residing restlessly. unraveling, brushing skin, falling for him. a day never meant for me. the love that dare not speak its name. We sat right upon the leaves. I don't like the weather, I don't like the
ground. I'm not with anyone who knows me. I dont like the promise, I don't like the sound. With my head in the lap of a stranger, I am not a sinner. I am not a saint. Call me an admirer, call me a digrace.
I need a hand to keep me steady. Put it where you want to, I will not object. My
heart crawls into bed and asks for advice. There isn't anywhere to put it down. But grief has taught me a lot about surrender.
My heart is less creature, and more trying its best."
Adam's Rib (triptych)
Lithograph on layered, frosted vellum
Rite of Passage
Writings from something to be desired
Graphite, selected torn notes from sketchbook
Singing to the Birds, on Felled Knee
16" x 14"
These Woods Hide Beast of Another Kind
16" x 14"
Manière Noire and Acid Tint Lithograph
20" x 16"
The Quick Rabbit Jumps Further & Further (left)
Three-color Lithograph, found frame from my grandmother's farm
If you need
Five-color lithograph, found frame from my grandmother's farm
It's Different Here
22" x 21"
Sketchbook folio, pages 34 & 35
Graphite, paper torn from sketchbook, dried coneflowers
Mid-Spring, 2020-River Valley
26" x 22"
it's gonna rain soon
and pull me back in
whatever it takes
to fill the shape
and out of your hands
Grantsburg, WI; Jan. 1st, 4:45pm
20" x 18"
ready for the nearness, dreading the approach.
will you still walk me home?