River and Everything After
2021—current
River and Everything After is a series based on perceptions of my relationships with and between my immediate family throughout the time period of the pandemic in tandem with my youngest child’s primary years of life—and the impact of that duality. I create these pieces in response to intense yet delicate, vulnerable, contemplative moments of stillness I observe within our continuously shifting experience during this angst-ridden time period.
April, Again|Watercolor on Film Mounted on Wood|10x8 Inches|2021
Breath|Acrylic-Gouache on Wood|12x9 Inches|2023
May, Again|Watercolor on Film Mounted on Wood|12x9 Inches|2022
November No.4|Watercolor and Acrylic on Canvas|16x16 Inches|2023
Confluence|Acrylic-Gouache on Wood|12x9 Inches|2023
April, Again (No.1)|Ink and Watercolor on Paper|11x8.5 Inches|2021
Continuous|Watercolor, Acrylic, Acrylic-Gouache on Canvas|40x30 Inches|2021
December|Watercolor and Gouache on Claybord|20x16 Inches|2021
Dreaming the Presence of Light |Watercolor, Gouache, Acrylic- Gouache, Acrylic on Canvas|30x20 Inches|2022
November No.5|Acrylic-Gouache on Wood Panel|24x18 Inches|2023
December No.2|Acrylic, Gouache, Watercolor, Acrylic-Gouache on Canvas|14x11 Inches|2022
November (No.2)|Watercolor, Gouache, Acrylic-Gouache, Acrylic on Canvas|24x24 Inches|2022
November|Watercolor, Gouache, Acrylic-Gouache, Acrylic on Canvas|40x30 Inches|2022
November (No.1)|Watercolor and Ink on Paper|11x8.5 inches|2021
November No.3 (Detail)|Watercolor, Gouache, Acrylic- Gouache, Acrylic on Canvas|30x20 Inches|2022
Maelstrom|Acrylic-Gouache on Wood Panel|14x11 Inches|2023
Thank You
If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden's dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.
—Ross Gay