Sex can empower us but it can also make us feel powerless. Women’s sexuality exists within a widening guise of liberation even though our bodies remain firmly in the hands of patriarchal governance that informs our biases, expectations of the self, and our most private actions. My own sexual freedom gives me a sense of control yet I am stripped of that feeling when intimacy is mistaken for permission. Lines become blurred like the notches on my emptied shot glass; regardless, I swallow my reluctance and assume the role I think he desires. I am no longer in my body, I am no longer in my mind. My disassociation becomes a remedy for pain, my nightstand a tableau of silent truths, and my bed an instrument of solitude.

If you wish, read my story from top to bottom as one chronological happening. The center painting, bordered by the initiation and the aftermath, stands as an indication of time elapsed and is a bearer of illuminating symbols including that of numbness, grief and decay. I embrace the vulnerability of my work as a practice for healing as well as a moment of reflection for those who find themselves in my paintings.