How much can grief translate itself, she wonders some days. Crow has lost a few people along the way as we all do. Making art in the face of loss is one possible hope of coping, turning an incomprehensibly rupturing agony into a piece of music, a poem, a photo, a story, paint & collage on a canvas, an essay, even a random dance on the smallest of stages. Fortunately, Crow had some of these abilities prior to her griefs and so she could draw on her knowledge of form, cadence, the breaths at the ends of lines to reply to these sorrows and their slow yieldings, submergings. Still, on certain mornings she wishes she could create outside of this sharp pain that has marked her life, mind, body, art. Because OCD Crow has a hard time putting things down entirely. She digs & digs into the earth of what she has lost and keeps finding traces, signs. It will tell you when it’s ready to assume silence, she repeats to herself. But will it?
ps. this photo is a diptych taken by Karen Moe. on the left is myself in my spouse’s ashes in the forest three months after he died. on the right is myself in his Inhuman shirt, six months later. they are from a series called “skins (of grief)” from an exhibit known as “Visualelegies”. art. can it heal while still being art? healing. healing.