I am tired of looking for the answersmy body should be. Of sculpturing a self that can slit every arrow-breast. Can’t I just be a weak blue shirtworn by its own cleanliness? A newspaper wetted by a caton the porch? Can’t I just be […]
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I am tired of looking for the answersmy body should be. Of sculpturing a self that can slit every arrow-breast. Can’t I just be a weak blue shirtworn by its own cleanliness? A newspaper wetted by a caton the porch? Can’t I just be […]
Read moreCarissa Potter Carlson‘s work creates a strange, cathartic experience. A feeling of intrusion, as if you were reading a stranger’s thoughts, but also, a feeling of vulnerability, as if at the same time, that stranger were reading yours. Her art relieves loneliness by showing things everyone experiences but no one talks about, from small embarrassments […]
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