I spent a week of my life this month making this moth.
I don’t know if it was the best use of my time at this frightening time, but I do know I wasn’t capable of going out and protesting.
I’ve been barely able to function, this month.
Making something beautiful was the only thing I could contribute to the world. So I kept doing that.
Doing handwork, “Women’s Work.” Stabbing something 6,000 times.
I’ve spent a lot of time doing what I call “running background processes” this month.
I’m working on a very hard to write piece about sexual violence, and the words tumble around in my head like stones in a polisher.
I can think about it for tiny snippets at a time, and then I turn to the comfort of sparkle and glimmer and applying tiny hematite crystals one at a time for hours.
Everything about the Cheeto “President” triggers me. I am constantly triggered. It sucks. I can’t sleep during the American news cycle, so I’m up from 6pm to 11am.
I don’t know the name of the woman who made this protest sign for the Women’s March, but she is a hero. A real live art hero.