welcome to my digital basement
smells like coffee,
looks like a thrift store exploded,
sounds like riot grrrl playing through a blown speaker.
painting with my eyes closed,
binding zines about the feral side of motherhood,
lighting stuff on fire for unclear reasons.
nothing matches. everything's intentional.
everything held together by hot glue and spite.
making things out of love, or out of rage. there is no third reason
Check out my gallery Gallery Here.