No Gods. No Creamer.
Chicago, IL


I Remember

I remember playing war in our living room, howling like warriors until we passed out on top of one another. Pillows and blankets shielded us from imaginary wickedness.

I remember launching water balloons at our neighbor’s houses and giggling in the bushes when they would come outside.

I remember playing hide and seek until the horizon caught fire and the fireflies began to dance around us. Fluttering fuel for poor lanterns.

I remember the nights you came home long after I had fallen asleep.

I remember the sting of smoke and booze in my nostrils married with too much cologne in a desperate attempt to conceal the nights happenings.

I remember lying on my back, staring at the star at the top of the tree, praying that you’d be home for Christmas and shaking off the sight of unopened presents the next morning.

I remember wishing you a happy birthday through the prison telephone.

I remember you. 

Distances I - Abaca, journal entries, letters, oregon sand, dead grass.

For this autobiographical hand-made paper piece, I chose to do three circular sheets, juxtaposed on top of one another. The chapter of my life that I sought to embody with this project is of when I traveled cross-country to Oregon. In pursuit of a pen-pal that blossomed into a lover that faded to a lost one, each page documents different emotional or physical aspects of my journey. The sheets are pulled from abaca, letters and shredded journal entries from my time in, communicating with or pertaining to Oregon.

The largest and outermost sheet is black. This sheet contains journal entries, dead grass and sand from a beach in Port Orford, Oregon. I chose to make this sheet black as a representation of the separation and disconnectedness that often associates itself with long distance relationships. As the outer shell of the piece, it represents the physical gap between two lovers. The ache of being too far away from someone is often a feeling that I associate with dark, brooding colors. By far the grittiest of the layers, it is my skin during my stay in Oregon. It is the darkest and thickest and shows the physical and emotional wear of the road that I had traveled.

On top of that is another circular sheet that is composed only of abaca and journal entries. This sheet is left un-touched by pigment or soil. It is there to show the integrity of innocent feelings and good intentions. Beneath the surface of our skin, behind the expressions that we wear and the words that we weave there are the purest intentions. I kept this sheet bare, bright and hopeful to represent those golden and virtuous intentions.

My final sheet is the smallest of the three. This sheet is pigmented a deep blue and contains sand from beaches in Coos Bay, Oregon as well as more shredded journal entries and letters. This central circle is simply “the blues.” Through the hardened, blackened outer shell, past the pure, hopeful middle layer sits the blue-grey core, a downcast color for a downcast feeling. Mixing emotions, pigments and papers. I was blue in the middle.