8.5×11 - “Holes in the Story”
Once a child, hollowed by commands and silenced by authority, I have grown into the elder’s mantle. Now I see the countless lies that carved emptiness into my bones, the smiles demanded, the words shackled, the obedience feigned. I carry their legacy no longer as victim, but as keeper, sworn to mend the hollows and guide the next generation away from the void we were forced to inherit.
8.5×11 Print - Hanging on by a Thread
The marionette of memory, dangling by a thread stitched from family ghosts. An unbreakable string tying you to an eternity of puppetry.
8.5×11 Print - Birds of a Feather
A family’s creed, sharpened into a chain. Your blood must mirror blood, thought must not stray. By birth alone, you are bound to one another, tethered without choice, and expected to move as one.
8.5×11 Print - Watch your Tongue
A sharp command, barked from elder to youth at the mere whiff of defiance. An order to clamp down words, swallow innocence, and remember who claims the authority.
8.5×11 Print - Look at Me When I’m Talking to You
The elder’s demand, a hand that seizes the child’s gaze, forcing eyes wide open, pinning them in shame beneath the weight of authority.
8.5×11 Print - “Sting Like a Bee”
An elder’s command, leave venom behind, for it is not only survival but duty. In this family, even the smallest are bound to wound, each sting a thread in the legacy of blood and obedience.
8.5×11 print - “Eye for an Eye”
A creed of vengeance, whispered as justice, one wound repaid with another, sight traded for sight, until all are left blind in the elder’s grim ledger of balance.
8.5×11 print “Two Birds one Stone”
Killing two birds with one stone, the elders cast their stones into the soft bones of the young, splitting innocence and obedience in one silent blow, as the child’s identity scatters like startled wings, divided at the root, never knowing which way to fly, trapped in the confusion of borrowed skies.
8.5×11 Print - “You Should Smile More”
A poisoned suggestion, cloaked as kindness, an elder’s demand that the face be reshaped, innocence contorted into a mask of obedience, joy commanded where none exists.
“8.5×11 - Two Heads are Better Then One”
The elders murmur like a dying hymn, using the youth as a living conduit, bleeding their old pain through fresh minds, so their withered will may rise again cloaked in borrowed breath.
8.5×11 Print - Don’t Speak Unless Spoken to
The elder’s hissed decree, a chain on the child’s tongue, a command that smothers breath itself until the master’s voice allows release.
8.5×11 print - “Cover yourself up”
From a young age, we are told by our elders to “Cover ourselves up.” That one moment, turns a child’s skin into something dangerous, something wrong, folding into the fabric, trembling, learning to fear the very body that was once their own. Hiding behind shame.
