Jessica Lackie
Wales, WI

I look at my sibling, Robin, and I think to myself, “how could he turn out so perfectly, and I, so mangled and deformed.” How is it possible that us, with our orange bellies and matching eyes, move through life so differently. I look at him soaring through the skies with such confidence, while I wade through green waters, slowly sinking to the bottom. Perhaps one day my fins will grow into wings and lift me from these waters.

Grief never goes away, you just learn to grow around it. After the death of my father I felt a heavy weight of regret drop onto my chest. I did not know what to do, or what to feel. I did not know how to verbally communicate this grief, so I made drawings. The repetitiveness of cross hatching has become meditative to me. The hours I have spent building up layers of ink has allowed me time to reflect on my life. Our mortality and connection to nature are themes I always come back to. No matter the media - drawing, printmaking, painting, metals, ceramics - I always return to these themes.