Fractured

At the beginning of May, 2020, we quietly passed the 50th anniversary of the Kent State killings.  I was 17 when Kent State occurred.  My innocence was lost on that day. 

On Monday, June 1, 2020, some of our leaders threatened to use military force against citizens protesting the killing of George Floyd, an unarmed black man asphyxiated by a policeman pressing his knee into Mr. Floyd’s neck for more than 8 minutes, while Mr. Floyd and bystanders begged for his life. Mr. Floyd was face down on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back at the time. In threatening military force words like “dominate” and “terrorists” and “no quarter” were used.  A Congressional Representative suggested, with total disregard for life here and abroad, that we hunt down and kill these protesting citizens “like we do in the Middle East.” That same day, peaceful protestors in Washington, D.C. were attacked with tear gas and rubber bullets.  In 50 years, we appear to have learned nothing.  Faced with violent rhetoric from our leaders and violent actions against ordinary people by armed authorities, I went into the studio feeling utterly fractured.

I made chemigrams.  Normally, my approach to the chemigram process is slow and patient and gentle.  I take care not to damage the paper or the emulsion in the repeated movement from one chemical bath to another, and I allow the patterns to develop in their own good time as the resist slowly erodes.  Not so on this occasion.  I made these brutally and urgently, folding and wadding the paper without regard for the damage I might do.  They are fractured.  They mirror my inner state as I made them.

The Book:

The images called to me as the first step, meant to be become a book.

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