All these layers? They are me. It’s the ogre and the artist. the 90s farm kid who collected troll dolls and the grown-up queer who gets lost deconstructing Shakespeare. I’m excavating my layers and putting them on the canvas. If something doesn’t look quite right, or something doesn’t feel true? If I have doubts about what it is that I’ve managed to dig up? I just add more paint.

My mom and I are so different. I like to see, to have open doors, open bookshelves. I like to be seen exactly as I am. My mom is more curated. The second guest room exists as a themed room. That’s its function. The door stays closed and sometimes she goes and sees how nice it looks, but if I put too many finished paintings in there, I have to move them because it ruins the vibe. not that anyone sees it, it’s just the idea of the vibe being ruined.

So now, when I don’t sort my laundry as much as I did before, I think of my grandma. And when I’m making things in the studio too complicated, I think “how can I make this simpler?” Because something doesn’t have to be hard or complex to be worth doing.

Here for your edification is the next installment of Things We Found While Cleaning: