05/19/2026
I've been gone since February. Not lost — just elsewhere.
The noise got loud. The division, the hatred, the daily assault on everything I believe in — as a human, as an artist, as someone who thinks we owe each other basic decency. I needed to step back from the feed and sit with what actually matters.
I've also been building. A complete rebuild of my website — every word, every collection, every description written from scratch. The kind of work that requires you to go inward before you can put anything outward. It's the most honest articulation of what I do and why I do it that I've ever put into the world.
This is what came out of that quiet.
If You Were Here was captured deep inside the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá, Colombia — an underground sanctuary carved from ancient halite, where light moves differently and the air carries something older than politics.
I was thinking about my parents. My father, gone 23 years. My mother, just 3. He was the creative one — brilliant, restless, endlessly curious. He never saw this version of me. I wonder sometimes if he can.
Poe's "If You Were Here" — from Haunted, her dialogue with her own father's recorded voice — has been playing on repeat. I understand that conversation now in ways I couldn't before.
This image is my conversation with what remains. With presence that outlasts form. With the question of what we leave behind — and whether it's enough.
Art is how I resist. It's how I stay human when the world is doing its level best to make that difficult.
I'm back. The work continues.
Is there someone you've been having that quiet conversation with — the one where you wonder if they can still see you? 🖤
