If you don’t let me die here, I may never be reborn

12 in x 18 in. Collage (paper, canvas, charcoal, acrylic paint, embroidery, pressed plants).

October 2023

Featured in Conceptions Southwest Magazine, this collage is dominated by imagery of hyphae, which are the branch-like structures that fungi embody underground. With the fungi outstretching its form to the other components of this piece, I wanted to communicate the ways in which our private relationships with our bodies mirror the natural cycles at work with fungi and plants. Our bodies grow and senesce just as plants and fungi do; when we recognize this, we root ourselves into how life feels being inside a body — whether stuck inside that body or thriving within it. Scattered imagery of naked bodies fill the page with accessories of embroidery and dried/ painted leaves, complementing the nonchalant openness of the gestures in each body. The collage highlights the important healing done in darkness; in the unseen nooks of the world. Just as fungi take their primary form as unseen organisms underground, in the soil or within plants, the gracefully clumsy parts of our bodies are hidden until we step into the safety of a private room or step into the darkness of nighttime. Growth and vibrancy can happen most in the humble spaces of home with no one to judge or witness us. It’s in these moments of obscurity, of solitude, of moonlight, that we can shed the superficial layers of our character and recontextualize our identities for everyday life. What is hidden to most can be the greatest beauty in all forms of nature, and humans are no exception to this.

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Swallowed in Symbiosis