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This piece, honestly, at its core, is not glamorous. I took it in my dorm room bathroom. My camera sat on the bathroom counter. I posed on the toilet. My fairy-tale-esque dress was a scarf that I knotted in the back and draped across my chest, and my hand at the bottom of the frame there, well, that was to hide my boob.

What I love about this piece is the subtle tension. The hand forms the shape of a gun- there violence in that. The gun is pointed at the woman holding it. But, there is a bird coming in for a landing, adding a swath of ambiguity to the piece which is simply delicious. The bird transforms the hand into a perch, and the mind questions whether the gun was ever there at all?

A writing teacher once told me that there was a distinct dichotomy recurrently woven into my work. I have to agree with her. In the past this was something that sprouted up naturally, now it is something that I can consciously play with and reshape in my work. I believe that this, too, must be some reflection of my soul.

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