Isabel and I were sitting pretty. We were taking a studio class with Patricia Pearce, the innovative sculptor who I love and revere. Working Wednesdays in the class. Sneaking out a little early because we had worn ourselves out and needed to go to bed. Finishing a piece that was a small chest of drawers filled with sonograms and poetry. Working on a hanging piece–6 photographs, scratched, altered, collaged.
Then–pandemic lockdown–working from home, talking with Patricia by phone. Trying to finish, which wasn’t that daunting, because the concept was quite clear.
Here is one of the photographs–the only one that isn’t about bodies floating in water. When Iz was pregnant I put her in a big suminagashi tray and poured ink all over her. This image is part of that. After she had the baby the poured ink seemed scarily like blood. It still does, but with context I–and hopefully…