Three weeks before my thesis show, my college moved online.

A week later, I emailed my thesis panel to ask if I could mail them prints. 

Three days after that, I walked out of Walgreens with a plastic bag of prints. I sat on the curb and addressed six envelopes and dropped my photographs down a mail chute. 

To me, my pictures feel like sun freckles or scars--results of encounters that stay with me and evolve. I want my photographs to be physical. I wanted my thesis to arrive in my professors’ houses as prints, and stay there, and get smudged by their fingerprints.

For me, for a long time following an assault, it’s seemed like everything has been about touch. I look at two trees twisted together and think about the space between people. I look at plastic wrap and think about the separation of air, the allowance for touch without actual contact.

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