While You Were Sleeping

March 22 - May 10, 2025 at Studio 105: 1525 N. American St. Philadelphia

The wonder of instant communication has mutated into an expectation of constant response. We invented machines to save time, to promise ease, to make our lives simpler - only to raise the standard of what it means to be efficient. We weren’t made for a world this fast, yet we are judged and celebrated or forgotten by the speed and aptitude of our engagement. We run toward progress and never ask how we might be affected when we arrive. 

I began these paintings as a way of dramatizing my own dread. Everything has become too heavy—the weight of womanhood and motherhood, of ambition and exhaustion, and of technology with its relentless demands. A meditation on contradiction, these works sit at the very center of my ongoing inner war— stretched tight between the desire for connection and the intense need for solitude.

The figures in the self-titled 18-foot-long triptych, While You Were Sleeping seem caught in a slow-motion collision—tangled, frozen, and suspended in the wreckage of a storm that, as the left panel reveals, I am the maker of. Ushering in something terrible, something great, but always something unfamiliar. Sunburns are often a theme in my work, expressing underlying, persistent worry; a sense of being ill-equipped for this planet. Chickens, tagged and tracked, march on the bodies like the daily pecking demands of communication—text faster! Paint faster! And then there’s the war of womanhood: Manage your sex appeal! Manage his ego! I resent it, I revel in it, I resist it, I perform it. Motherhood gave and took everything. A body that creates life and moves through the world as both miracle and hindrance. The doodled faces on the fingers of the figures briefly interject with a note to self: it’s not so serious. 

The accompanying works show scenes from home, tinged with unease: a simple setting of hands reaching for potatoes in the foreground of an active arm wrestle,  a finger dipped in a fish bowl’s murky water, and children's string hand games on the verge of frustration. In Potato/Potatoe we see a familiar gesture: passing food across the table - but in the background the tension of hands grasped in war. When did even the simplest things in life become complicated? In a world that glorifies being always available, always producing, always on, I crave analog. I crave stillness, yet my ambitions persist. I want both sides of every coin. And so the tensions remain. Unresolved.