TITLE: Sticks and Stones
MEDIUM: silver gelatin print
DIMENSIONS/RUN TIME: 7 1/2″ x 11 1/4″
DESCRIPTION/STATEMENT: “Don’t you think we’re all some sort of lonely at this bar?” I hear to the left, and nod, without shifting this body’s axis. It’s later that I sit in the backseat of a car, beside a man who nips Scotch from a square plastic container. It is the color of Depression Glass-commercialized sea green, then amber-green, then ruby-green as the lights shift for traffic. “It’s a shampoo bottle-” the $3 kind you’d find in the Walgreens travel aisle- “it slips past metal detectors.” We line our bodies so neatly by one another, in this bar, in this car, as polite as when we were in grade school, waiting to rinse our hands with water. We move these bones forward, ever slowly, in misery and magnetism, knowing that touch will be the first warmth to forget and the last solace to remember.