My Body is a River
In progress

In the fall of 2025, I returned to Baltimore from my Catwalk residency, in New York’s Hudson Valley, with the river. The Hudson, carved through rock like a scar, is always moving, always changing, and always there. The water goes through, around, and over. It restarts and recovers, it ebbs and flows, it keeps going. It’s a cut, a scar, a wound, a divider, a carrier, a pulse, breath, blood, life, change - past/present/future. Above all, the river is resilient.

The Hudson is also tidal. It inhales and exhales, it’s a back and a forth, it’s a conversation. Progress, or the river’s course, is not black and white, or only in one direction - the water and the words keep moving.

I began drawing the river’s course. Its jagged outline joined my growing lexicon of personal symbols: different flowers for memories, healing, and hope; and my house icon, the stand-in for myself.

I continued to explore this series during my second residency at Catwalk in fall of 2026.