Friday, July 24, 2020

Window Gallery - Kah Yangni & Keegan Bonds-Harmon



JULY 2020

We had the the opportunity to interview our current window artist Kah Yangni. Check out their interview on our blog! HERE

(more info on their installation below!!)


This project was made possible through support from the City of Providence, Art Culture + Tourism Department


Kah Yangni - artist statement:
June, and the wake of the killing of George Floyd, was crushing. I knew I wanted to do something that would be like a message in a bottle to anyone black or brown who passed the mural, to lift them at a time that was really dark. I made this mural to lift the people that pass this intersection day to day. The lyrics are from the Solange song, "Interlude: I Got So Much Magic, You Can Have It" from her 2016 album "A Seat At The Table."

The full lyrics are:

you did it from the get go, get go, get go /
let’s go, let’s go, let’s go /
look for magic, ye-ah /
they not gonna get it from the get go, get go, get go /
don’t let, don’t let, don’t let /
anybody steal your magic, ye-ah /
But I got so much, y’all /
you can have it, ye-ah

- Solange, 2016

Kah Yangni is an artist making illustrations, prints, and murals in Philadelphia, PA. They make heartfelt art about justice, queerness, femme life, and joy. Kah has made work for the New York Times, Vice, BUST Magazine, Autostraddle, the Seattle Seahawks, Rock the Vote, the National Women’s Law Center, the 2020 Free Our Mothers Poster Campaign, Project NIA, the Transgender Law Center, Forward Together, Girls Rock Philly, and others. Their work has been presented at the Poster House in NYC and the RISD Museum, and featured in Them, Mashable, and Colorlines.
Keegan Bonds-Harmon is an artist and recently graduated high school student born and raised in Providence RI, whose work incorporates painting, sculpture and video.  We did a live zoom interview with Keegan about the installation and their work - to view a transcript of our conversations, check out our blog HERE! 

These projects were made possible through support from the City of Providence, Art Culture + Tourism Department

Friday, July 17, 2020

Interview with Kah Yangni

Kah Yangni is an artist, illustrator, and muralist living in Philadelphia. Kah lived in Providence from 2009- 2019, and it was a pleasure to have them come back to PVD to do a mural in the Storefront Window Gallery.

Pippi: Your installation in the Dirt Palace Storefront Window Gallery quotes a song on the Solange album “Seat at the Table”, can you talk about the piece and your relationship to the lyrics?
Kah: I love that album so much. “A Seat at the Table” is an album long meditation on Solange’s blackness and her womanhood. I listen to it a lot. In the months before I came to do this mural, I would play this tiny song called “Interlude: I Got So Much Magic, You Can Have It” over and over and over. 

The full lyrics of the interlude go: “you did it from the get go, get go, get go / let’s go, let’s go, let’s go / look for magic, ye-ah /  they not gonna get it from the get go, get go, get go / don’t let, don’t let, don’t let / anybody steal your magic, ye-ah / But I got so much, y’all / you can have it, ye-ah.” It’s just three women singing acapella for less than thirty seconds. 

To me the song is about how we have a magic that often isn’t recognized- and that even if it’s recognized and people try to steal it from us, it’s okay, because we have so much of it that we’ll be okay. 

June was crushing. Every day was a flood of news about black people dying or people fighting against black people dying. I knew I wanted to do something that would be like a message in a bottle to anyone black or brown who passed the mural, to lift them and make them feel good at a time that was really dark.

P: How does music inspire or tie into your visual work? You sometimes use song lyrics in your illustrations and murals (along with quotes from activists) and as inspiration (I’m thinking of your shoebox Pride parade float for Vice inspired by Janelle Monae’s “Pynk”), and you are also a musician. I watched an interview where you talked about organizing Pronk! And your relationship to bringing people together through celebration. I’m curious if you see a connective thread between these different formats and mediums in which you work.

K: I love music! I have headphones on all the time, listening to podcasts or music. If I feel insecure, I listen to “Django Jane” or “Electric Lady” from Janelle- those songs are powerful, so for 2-3 minutes I’m sucked into the feeling of being powerful. I definitely feel like being a musician is a chance to literally embody a feeling. I’m a quiet person but as a musician I’m super loud! I can be covered in glitter, I can take my horn and start a party in an alleyway.

A music show or fest changes the culture for as long as it’s happening, but then it goes away. But visual art you can see and it can be with you all the time. A mural on a wall can last for years and years, and can change how people act around it. My overall artistic goal is to affect the culture in places the way a really good show does. So I am working to become a super strong visual artist and push myself to spread the work and make it large scale.

P: Your illustrations have an intimacy and care that feels deeply embodied…. I’m wondering about scale and how your work might shift when you’re creating something super large scale - like a mural. I’m setting this up like they would be oppositional - and I don’t think that’s the case - but I’m thinking about how your body exists in relation to the work when making something that’s small and maybe can be held in the hand (like a print) versus a large scale painting.

K: I’m trying to do the exact same thing but affect a greater number of people.

I put on my artist brain when I am designing the mural, and that feels the same whether I’m planning a mural or a print. I get to enjoy flow state. But painting a mural feels more like being a contractor.

Making murals is actually super physically uncomfortable. In the northeast, outdoor mural season is late spring through early fall. That means it’s hot and muggy. Maybe you’re sore from climbing ladders; you deal with people outside who are mostly nice but sometimes not; maybe someone peed near a wall you have to paint. But it is worth it because when you make giant art, you have the opportunity to change the energy of the space around that mural and make people think differently not only about themselves but about that block or that city even. 

Xander: Print nerd question: you rock the rainbow roll a lot in your screen-printing work! In my experience with screen-printing I find that sometimes I do this out of a sense of efficiency (it can make a one or two color print way more colorful) but sometimes because I just want to experiment as I go and make each print a little different.  Is your use of the rainbow roll related to either of these or something else altogether?  It also seems like a natural extension of your work with watercolor. Can you talk a bit about how you think about screen-printing and how it connects with the other media that you work with? 

K: There’s only so much you can control watercolors- the color just spreads, and it makes these cool effects. I love flowing color and weird textures and stuff you can’t predict, and I first learned to love these things when I was learning how to use watercolors. I was super excited about rainbow rolls and other weird things I’ve learned to do with screen printing so that my prints come out looking like watercolors- looking different every time.
P: You recently illustrated the National Women’s Law Center project, Brick by Brick, an advocacy curriculum that centers the experiences and identities of LGBTQ+ students of color designed for middle school and high school students. Can you talk about Brick by Brick, and your experience working on the project?

K: It was so funny to work on. I’m not even the target audience but I read it and felt like I was learning a lot. 

I’m 29 years old. I have been out of the closet for more than ten years. But so much of what I learned from the curriculum, I learned for the very first time! I had never heard of almost any of it. 

I read about these people in gay history and I felt like I was seeing myself and all my gay friends as we were moving through our twenties. We’re not weird- we’ve existed for a long time. We have our own history to be proud of. We’re real.

P: The illustrations in the Brick by Brick project are so multi-layered. They look like a combination digital, text, and hand painted scanned pieces.Can you talk about your process in creating these illustrations? Did you start with the text? The images? Did research play a part in creating these works?

K: I just started with reading the curriculum- clicking through all the links, watching all the videos. Then I started by drawing the people and the quotes by hand, on paper. I would paint pieces of paper with watercolor and take big sheets of screenprinted color and scan it all into the computer. Then I would use photoshop to combine and arrange it all. A little bit like a digital collage!

X: When landing on your website the phrase “I love art and what happens to people when they make it” comes up.  This resonated a lot….locating a potential for change inside of the creative process. Then I quickly come to the print piece that features the text “Trans is freedom, is adventure, is endless”. These two sentiments, particularly when I hold them together offer a vision into change that is poignant. These two phrases say a ton already, but I wonder if you would be willing to share ways that art, change, and gender/identity and openness have intersected on your path. 

K: I love this question! To me, being trans means I get to be creative with myself. Expression is super fun! It’s like a game or an adventure. I think that’s why you see a lot of trans and queer people allowing themselves to be more flexible with the way their families and relationships and lives look- because being queer in the first place, a lot of the time, is kind of creative. There isn’t a strong map that’s hundreds and hundreds of years old of what to be (like there is a map of how to be straight or be cis) so you create yourself a lot. 

Making art is the same way- you make something totally new, and then it’s like you made a shift in the world. You can do things differently. It lets you know that you can build what you want. 


This project was made possible through support from the City of Providence, Art Culture + Tourism Department

Friday, May 22, 2020

Interview with Keegan Bonds-Harmon

Keegan Bonds-Harmon is an artist and high school student born and raised in Providence RI, whose work incorporates painting, sculpture and video. Keegan's work will be installed in the Dirt Palace Storefront Gallery for all of May, through June 6th. The gallery is viewable from the street, so check it out next time you are walking or driving by! We did a live zoom interview with Keegan - here's a transcript of our conversation!

Pippi: Can you give us a broad overview of the ideas that you were thinking about in conceiving this project

I wanted to create a landscape related work that could be immersive to make and hopefully to look at. This work, like much of my work, came out of material exploration. Last summer I was making these figurative sculptures out of wheat paste and tissue paper. When I flattened them out and they became more like paintings, shedded skins, wilted leaves, or crusts. I was interested in their translucency. Otherwise, I kept it all pretty loose and used these ideas as jumping off points. 

Xander: You had started it before Covid, can you talk about ways that quarantine did or didn’t change the course of what you had imagined making? 

I was about one third of the way into making it when we all went into quarantine and I think the biggest shift was that I just stopped working on it for a while, which felt crazy. I’ve always been the kind of artist to constantly work with whatever time I have. So to suddenly have all the time in the world and to do nothing with it felt wrong. I went into what felt like a hibernation for about three weeks. I spent more time reading, watching movies, walking, calling friends, and scrolling longer than is healthy. But that felt like a necessary part of adjusting to the strangeness and weight of everything. 

When I started to work on the piece again I felt that I should try and stick to my original ideation of it, even though the world it was entering was vastly different from the one it was first being created. I am definitely now thinking about how my practice can adjust to this new landscape as well as my own new rhythm, but at the time it felt too soon, and that what I really needed in that moment was a distraction. 

P: How did the manifestation of the project compare to what your initial imagination was?  

Originally I had planned on making the piece in panels the exact size of each window. But as I was working the sections were drying, shrinking, falling apart, and creating all new shapes that I didn't want to control too much. Eventually I ran out of flour for wheat paste and couldn't buy any at the grocery store because there was a shortage. I ended up diluting the wheat paste and the work became more sparse. So even if I didn’t intend to shift the work it had to shift, even if only on a material level.

P: Can you talk us through the process involved with constructing the piece? Where did you gather the sticks, did you do all of the paper mache first and then and paint, or did you start painting as you went along? 

During my sort of hibernation I was taking lots of walks and found Canada Pond, this really ugly, muddy, pond in the process of being drained near my house. On these walks I would collect my favorite dead branches. Those became the skeleton for the piece. I had a lot of fun lugging huge bundles of sticks through my neighborhood. 

To start, I would lay out tissue paper in my driveway, and spread wheat paste on the paper, then lay the sticks out. On top of that I would lay out another sheet of tissue paper, sandwiching the sticks in between. Sometimes I would start with a pigmented wheat paste and then go back in and paint on top of that. The pieces were all sectioned off to fit into my basement where I continued to work on them and hide them from all the April rain.

The biggest challenge in constructing it was definitely scale. My first time seeing the piece all together was when installing it. But there was something really romantic about working on something without stepping back; or chipping away at something so much bigger than your own body. This felt intensified when I was unable to leave the house and be away from the work. 

X: Through working in sculpture, it seems like there is a relationship to a history of landscape painting. Can you talk about your inspirations, both in relationship to the natural world and/or art history? 

Absolutely, to start with the natural world, I live in Providence, off of Charles street, In the sort of Bermuda Triangle between Home Depot, Mineral Spring, and I-95 and I take walks almost every day. There aren't any real forests or anything, but there are patches of trees, and ponds, and rivers. I try to travel and work from all sorts of natural, North Eastern landscapes. But it is here, in Providence, that I spend most of my time and gather all of my natural materials. There is something really strange and difficult to place about the little fragments of the New England landscape that we get here. I find that making its way into what I make more and more. 

On a painterly level, I started working with the landscape about two years ago. I was really into painting, I knew I was interested in abstraction, but I didn't know where to start. I found that skies, trees, water, dirt, and grass could create a great framework for the painting I was interested in. Initially, the grandeur and majesty of the American landscape tradition and the Hudson River School painters really drew me in and acted as an inspiration behind some of the earlier paintings I was doing. But there is also this weaponized, and colonial history behind those paintings, as their beauty was used to promote or justify the colonization and claim ownership over Indigenous land. That dynamic has had me question and adjust the way I work with the landscape. I am definitely more interested now in the idea of being inside of, or a part of a landscape rather than to look at or represent a landscape. 

X: Yeah, I think that the tension as an artist between living inside of something versus occupying a space of representation, is a really important tension to hold because it has everything to do with subjectivity and positionality and the relationship to the thing that you are representing. So it’s really interesting to hear that that is something you're processing in a very tactile, crafting kind of way. 

P: Do you listen to things while you work? Would you be willing to tell us about what you’re listening to? Does music play a role in how you engage with your process?

To be a total nerd, Pippi, I’ve been listening to that 2017 Bonedust release Fruit of the Ash a lot and have been very very into that. That, and Kali Malone’s The Sacrificial Code, this hour and a half long album of straight up organ and nothing else. Also, Robert Rich’s soundtrack to the movie Stalker. Those two are very ambient, which is great because I can totally zone in, but I am also finding that my decision making gets more free and interesting when I’m barely paying attention to what I’m doing. Especially if I’m doubting it or becoming overwhelmed in some way. So for that my friend has had me start listening to the sci fi novel Dune on audio. I can already feel that working its way into things.  
X: You’ve spent the year applying to school and making plans for your year. How has all of this affected your thinking about the future? About planning? About the potentials and limits of artmaking as a communicative medium?

This past year I’ve totally been in a weird state trying to plan for and anticipate the future. I was trying to make work without thinking too much about it which proved to be impossible because it was all I could think about. 

I ended up getting into Cooper Union, and decided to go, which I am ecstatic about. I also decided to take a gap year in hopes that NYC/the world can adapt and begin to recover before I move into such a new and already fragile part of my life. So for the first time in fourteen years I’ll be living completely outside of school. I’m realizing I need to be living and making work in ways that are more present. For so long I’ve felt like I'm working towards or waiting until the next thing, whatever that may be. Now no one knows what’s next and all we can do is take things a day at a time. That is definitely what I need to do right now to stay sane and I also know it’s what's best for art making. 

It definitely has me questioning art as a means of connection as well. My practice has been a great way to learn to spend more time with myself. But even before all this, I was feeling a need for more shared connection and ritual-like activity in my life, and that art could be a place to seek that out. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about work that exists in the physical realm and could promote both shared experience and distance. Possibly something mailable, tradable, and zine like, or some sort of quasi-public sculpture made for others to visit and contribute to. I'm brainstorming!
X: Your paper mache in this piece, as well as your other work has elements that feel both ethereal like clouds or sea foam, but then there are other aspects that are carcass-y or like dried out flowers in a bouquet that’s been on a desk for longer than intended. In this there is an allusion to both time and the body. Can you speak to this? It also feels like when you make references to death or the remains of plant/animal life, there is a reverence. The gestures are quiet, rather than violent. Is there an ethics around representation that you’re working with explicitly or feeling your way through? 

For sure, I've definitely stumbled into these areas. I had this really great critique maybe two years ago when I was making paintings of friends in fields of flowers. I felt like the work was really joyful and all about friendship but the cold read I got from others was all about how the figures were either zombies or they were hiding from zombies. This initially felt like something I could ignore. But as I continued working I realized how present birth, growth, decay, death, and rebirth were in my work. Maybe not in a “zombie” sort of way, but definitely in a way that hints at some larger narrative or cycle. 

I am trying to examine these themes and make work that can move fluidly along those cycles rather than getting stuck on one end. Like for example, I made a lot of sculptures this past year that have corpse-like elements and sit or lie on the ground. More recently I have felt that it is important that the sculptures begin to stand up or have some sort of responsibility to themselves, like to point at a spot in the sky, or to carry water. I hope something in those actions lend themselves to a greater, more hopeful, and generative narrative, rather than just an ending. I certainly want there to be hope in each piece.  

P: What things feel most hopeful to you at this moment?

Knowing that we’re not going back to normal. Which is difficult and feels a little empty to say because we have no idea what that is going to look like right now. We know there will be great change, and much of it will be upsetting for a while, but I am optimistic that there will be positive and unexpected shifts to look forward to. 

X: As a young person circulating in ideas and images and culture as a field, are there things that feel visible to you that you think may be blindspots to practitioners of other generations? Concepts or values that you don’t think are relevant that you’d like to see let go of? 

It totally goes without saying, but just being inundated with the sheer volume of ideas and images we are is immense and at times cacophonous. We’re navigating more tools and information than we know what to do with. It's difficult to see exactly how that's impacting our work as young people, probably because it’s still and always unfolding. But what I am seeing right now is a breaking down of boundaries on social, personal, and informational levels. Some of this is excessive and leaves us raw, but when it comes to access, there's an advantage to having so much in the open. I think we are navigating access more intimately now. To pick the most obvious example, we have memes: these easily disseminated images, dense with meaning and connection, that can be experienced by tons of people. I am excited to see how these values could push our artwork and draw greater attention to the hurdles placed around art. And that's not to say there isn’t value to the more intimate connections that can be made in art, or that everything must be widely experienced to be successful. I don't think all of the solutions will be found in dematerialization, digitization, or making work that is as easy to digest as a meme. But, I am definitely hoping we can invest ourselves more in access and heart clarity, and less in over-intellectualization and total obscurity. 


This project was made possible through support from the City of Providence, Art Culture + Tourism Department

Monday, April 20, 2020

orange ya glad i didn't say unprecedented times



APRIL 2020  


"The series is a reclamation of the renaissance art period. The classical paintings made during the 15th-16th century all exhibit Europeans as regal, aristocratic figures, completely excluding the people of color from these spaces and moments. These images are here to question and put forth a new body of work, where people of color stand tall and proud, embellished in cultural relevance. We are here to fill up gallery walls, and be mounted in your homes as decoration, because like everyone else, we belong."

Ryan Cardoso is a storyteller communicating through photography and filmmaking.  To find out more about Ryan and his work - check out this interview with him on our blog  HERE


This project was made possible through support from the City of Providence, Art Culture + Tourism Department



It feels surreal trying to remember what I have "done" during this month of social distancing. I vaguely remember orchestrating two elaborate photoshoots to get some quality nudes. It seems I made six voice memos of myself reading Mary Oliver poems. I've been told I wrote a poem yesterday, and some have alleged I released an EP of sad quarantine songs. But the only thing that I am sure of is that I meticulously stuck cloves into an orange to replicate the structure of the COVID virus, and then filmed it spinning in slow motion.

The days pass slowly but go by so fast. I've been finding it hard to concentrate, what with the massive collective trauma we're undergoing and all. Josephine and I agree that whoever is writing the simulation we're living in isn't even trying to make the storyline believable anymore. So it's not so much a matter of coping with reality, but suspending my disbelief.

Sending everyone love and solidarity from Olneyville, Earth, my slice of the apocalypse.


The Covid-19 rendering Noraa used as a reference for the above sculpture.   

As the rest of us ask ourselves "What can I cook with what's left in my pantry?" Noraa has dug deeper. Her pomander portrait of Covid-19 begs the question: "What can I contribute to the advancement of human knowledge with what's left in my pantry'?"

Begin by noticing–without judgement– the questions that arise as you take stock of what you have left.  Here's what comes up for me:

Which departed roommate's cooking oil offers the lowest smoke point? How have attitudes towards social constructs such as “my shelf” and “your shelf” changed during the pandemic? By what mechanism does anxiety drain food of flavor? Is the growing ratio of sirens to honk-offs in Olneyville square correlated with RI’s Covid-19 doubling time?

In a pinch, it's OK to skip doing a literature review and dive right in, just make sure you are in compliance with your household's policies on human-subjects research. I'm no longer on Brown’s IRB, but I am still available if you need a sounding board to talk through best practices when living with study participants.


I've reconnected with my favorite knitting book.

Contact me at if you want to join the Armadillo wrap Knit-a-long

You know, everything is normal over here... But when I'm pretending everything actually is or I can focus on anything, I’m working on doing illustration and comics work (more to come). In the meantime, please enjoy this interview I gave to myself *amid these times*

You’re on a desert island, you have the essentials, what are your three luxury items? bidet, CBD horchata popsicles, and a water park slide into the ocean
Ideal grocery shopping outfit: my normal outfit but with all “blaze orange” accessories- hat, mask, hoodie, glasses, shoe laces, socks...
Song of the moment: Yo Perreo Sola, by Bad Bunny
The perfect meme: sees me, sees the world, and laughs @ me, spits on the world
DJ set vibe: Reality drama tv effects
Most hopeful thing I’ve witnessed: grassroots organizing and collaboration across state lines, especially to get people out of immigration detention centers (see #FreeThemAll)
Biggest surprise: I'm still behind on tv and movies, (and tiger king was kind of terrible)
Favorite escape: Throwing a birthday party on Sims (and then blocking the door with presents so my new friends never leave).
After this is all over I will emerge: TikTok famous ;)

Time, of course has not been normal lately, and a lot of people’s sentences have included the phrase “time is…..” which always makes X think of the song Christmas Time in the Mountains.  Its not Christmas Time, but this song might feel nice to listen to. X teaches in the spring and that’s been wild. She had no idea of what to do, and then a friend who also teaches suggested sending a google form, and that was earth shattering. So every time she’s felt stuck with the class she’s leaned into asking questions. Sometimes the answers were so beautiful and helpful that for a moment things felt ok. So she kept making forms until the form became the form. What is there for us to teach each other anyways other than to ask and improvise and listen? Please fill out this form. (i mean if you want to) It is anonymous - i think you can also fill it out multiple times, but i’m still learning about google forms. I think there will be more forms as form, I’ll post them on twitter (@LadyLongArms). In terms of thoughts on the quality of writing of this simulation (see Noraa’s entry); X highly recommends World on a Wire the 1973 Fassbinder 2 part mini series. It's free on YouTube: there are so many killer shots in mirrors and weird swimming pools and deadpan melodramatic lines about the nature of how the simulation works. Simulation workers on strike! Going to remember to put it on Rec World!!!


My newest isolation strategy is playing crowd sound effects underneath a playlist of Whitney Houston singles—if you're anything like me, this will be a legitimate pick-me-up. If you're not, you may find suggestions more relevant to you on Rec World, a website I put together to collect recommendations from the people I'm missing every day. A feed of asynchronous pleasures circulating through texts, sensations, and repeatable actions. Press the plus button on the bottom right to submit your own.

Pasting some mutual aid networks, resources, and fundraisers, mostly in the Providence area: FANG Community Bail FundUndocu FundEmergency COVID Fund for R.I. Dancers / FS WorkersSISTA Fire Mutual Aid Support fundraiserSISTA Fire Mutual Aid Support formAMOR's Stimulus Redistribution CampaignAMOR's Community Resources DocumentAMOR’s COVID-19 Response NetworkCOVID-19 Rhode Island Hospitality Relief FundHarm Reduxx PVDUndocuTrans Stimulus  Fund (DMV area)People's Emergency Fund (Maine)Mutual Aid Hub (collection of user-submitted mutual aid networks nationally)Artist Relief grantsRISCA Artist Relief Fund grants.

Several weeks before the global pandemic gets officially deemed a global pandemic and everything closes down, you lose a hard drive. Why isn’t it backed up? There is no answer. The drive shuts down in a such a way that the read/write heads magnetize and clamp down on the discs, physically scratching the platters every time you try to reconnect the drive to your computer. In essence, you scraped all the data off the drive, pulverized it into oblivion. You wonder why you had to wait a month for a technician to tell you that your data had been destroyed. It sounds a bit dramatic when you try and tell people that you lost all the art that you made in the past 5 years… even though it is basically true. I guess your art no longer lives in the physical world. What was lost? 
• A full length album called The Bell that Never Stops Ringing about ever present thoughts of death (your’s and your loved ones’)
• Another 60 minute album called The Sound of It Hammering Against the Skirts about female desire
• Your ongoing archive of crying scenes from movies. I guess a spreadsheet of your collection exists, so if you wanted to re-record the 100 or so video clips that you’ve compiled, you could.
• A recording of that time you sang Opportunity to Cry by Willie Nelson in the hopes to make a record with Daniella
• All of your samples…. Ranging from recordings of your own instruments to sounds collected from horror films and reality TV shows about prison (because they use the most horrifying sounds to criminalize and dehumanize real people)
• That print that you worked on for two years of the image of  lady sniffing that lambs ass with the neurotic yellow eye, in a mirror adorned with serpents
• Every source image or drawing that you scanned in the past 5 years
• A lot of stuff that you don’t even remember
This digital storage unit much like a storage unit in the physical world , housed all your dusty unused collections wiped clean like a memory. And as your memory has gotten worse and worse over the years, troubling and worrying you to no end, you always wondered who you’d be if all your memories disappeared. Feels impossible to start over. And you think maybe it’s good that you made those drawings, tracing those ladies crying over and over on tracing paper, so that you at least have some remnants of the past 5 years to sit on a shelf, the pages getting bent and ruined after years of neglect.


The Library picked up Finding Balance from artist Deborah Spears Moorehead after her artist talk at the Dirt Palace last summer. Debbie's installation - Parcel 1 A. Providence River from 1600 to Contemporary explored the colonial, industrial, and contemporary uses of Providence waterways.
Using this time of shelter in place to read Debbie's work!
To view Debbie's installation or artist talk at the Dirt Palace - go here
To purchase Finding Balance from the artist, contact her by email 



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