The Making of Digital Medusa

I am a monster of my own making, a digital phantasmagoria. I (re)imagine myself.
I hear the me who is not me, yet still me
            I am Many She-Monsters...

Full creative essay and new experimental voice film published on Question Journal: A New Journal for the Humanities from South, West & Wales Doctoral Training Partnership. Check it out here.

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Roses in an Unrelenting World

A few years ago, I did a photography project and it's stuck with me as a favorite durational art work.Two quotes come to mind now via this wee flower project of simple observation coupled with the unrelenting and contant still-(dis)believable / (un)believeable march of events in our world— it all feels like a remembering of a never-was / once was— the conitnued surreality of my 21st century Ever-Romanticism.

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Crossing the Threshold: a word, a whisper

Words. (What? Wait. What did you say? What did I hear?)

Words out of the order. Whisper. Wail. Speak. Sing. Scream. Sling shot shouts. Swoops like sirens. Echo. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Discard what isn’t useful. Discord. Discard. Draw out. Breathe. Sigh. Gasp. Ingress. Inspire. Respire. Take apart the diphthongs. Vowels long. Vowels short. Explode plosives. Consonants crackle and quake, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, and so on.

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A little poetic Selkie engagement with Virginia Woolf

    Worlds wholly imaginary, intangible, just-out-of-reach; a place and time, outside of place and time...an almost afternoon...a walk through a church belled town, its paths all tiger lily for spring, you stand by a market stall, leaning on a splintered cross beam railing...I dreamed a sea gabled house with widows walk, my skirts all rustle whisper, rustle whisper, rustle whisper...sand smoothed out like honeyed silk

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