A week before the election, I saw Eddie Izzard, who urged: “Be curious. Be brave.” Curiosity comes naturally to me; bravery has been harder lately. Since Nov. 6, I’ve avoided the news, a choice that feels like burying my head in the sand.
In late September, I watched Hurricane Helene devastate Western North Carolina, my first true sense of home. Most of 2024 was spent paralyzed by financial uncertainty, unable to embrace the move from Georgia to Indiana. The end of 2023 was mired in relocation, my creativity stalled while living out of boxes. Now, just as I’m resurfacing, I’m not ready to relive the desperation of his first term. I know it’s a privilege to take this pause, a deep breath before the fight ahead.
Writer Rob Brezsny’s questions—how to balance joy with resistance, beauty with struggle—affirm my belief that preserving wonder is essential. I’m rethinking the line between escapism and self-preservation, stepping away from the 24-hour news cycle, and drawing strength from my environment.
This summer, I created “New Land Studies,” lumen prints of wild plants, sewn photo papers whose chemistry shapes the images. The work reflects my shift toward presence, less screen time, more physical engagement.
In the years ahead, we’ll all need to find sources of strength. I’m grateful for this land as I seek ways to help others—and to invite them to be curious, and maybe, brave.