What this is
After I finished my first collection, there was this strange stillness. I'd spent months turning my own survival into art—making peace with trauma by giving it shape. And when it was done, I realized something had shifted. I wasn't just looking inward anymore. I was ready to look back.
This collection is about lineage. About the queer people who came before me—the ones who survived in secret, who built community in the margins, who left traces of themselves in handwritten journals and underground magazines and the floorplans of bars that no longer exist. I spent months in LGBTQ archives, holding these fragments in my hands: Lou Sullivan's notes, crossdressing zines from the '70s, blueprints of spaces where people like me could finally breathe.
These aren't just artifacts. They're proof. Proof that we've always been here, that survival has always required invention, that queerness has always been both tender and defiant.
Through geometry and abstraction, I'm translating these things into something you can feel—not nostalgia, but recognition. This work is about the invisible threads that connect us across time, about the quiet bravery it took for them to exist so that I could exist too. It's about inheriting not just their pain, but their resilience. Their refusal to disappear.
This collection is about lineage. About the queer people who came before me—the ones who survived in secret, who built community in the margins, who left traces of themselves in handwritten journals and underground magazines and the floorplans of bars that no longer exist. I spent months in LGBTQ archives, holding these fragments in my hands: Lou Sullivan's notes, crossdressing zines from the '70s, blueprints of spaces where people like me could finally breathe.
These aren't just artifacts. They're proof. Proof that we've always been here, that survival has always required invention, that queerness has always been both tender and defiant.
Through geometry and abstraction, I'm translating these things into something you can feel—not nostalgia, but recognition. This work is about the invisible threads that connect us across time, about the quiet bravery it took for them to exist so that I could exist too. It's about inheriting not just their pain, but their resilience. Their refusal to disappear.