Gallery

I went to friend's mother's organization's head's art show today. It was far away in more ways than one. The criteria for entrance into the program? Having cancer. I was disappointed when I heard, because I would love to get a little closer to the beautiful weavings and devastating photographs pinned to the wall of a Chinatown YMCA. They were not behind any glass, but they were behind a multi-year layer of struggle that I had no idea I was two steps away from. Three pieces: "Identity Theft" (losing herself with her hair), "Mammogram" (losing herself with her breasts), and "Quality of Life" (losing herself with her happiness.) She went to China thirteen years ago, to an orphanage, and found something. And kept it all.