A loss (for words)
Letting my artistic practice carry what I can't express
On Easter Sunday last year, after spending two weeks in my childhood bedroom, I returned to a half empty home. I exhaled, but the tension in my body wouldn’t really soften. A year later, I’m still not sure if it has.
I still find it difficult to find the right words to describe what that time was like, or what it means to me where I am today. But in the absence of words, creating images can be that soft exhale for me.
These are the last few images I shot in the old house, filling up a roll that also held some yet to be developed shared memories. I bet Schrödinger would have loved this.
This second half of the roll was me saying good-bye, to the house, the relationship, our dog, the person I was. It’s a documentation of a quiet rebellion in a liminal space. And act of anchoring and letting go simultaneously.
I’ll share some more current thoughts on creativity below these images.
I’ve had a lot of trouble creating anything for myself this past year, however cathartic filling this roll was at the time. But I realize choosing myself and reclaiming my agency also means recommitting to my creativity. These things take time, but it’s important to keep momentum. In doing that, I’m rediscovering my voice, my values and my vision.
I’ve gotten stuck so many times trying to pick apart what parts of me are performing (for an audience? for my own inner critic? masking my neurodivergence?) and what parts are expressing authentically. And today I think: maybe that’s a false dichotomy altogether. Either way, the only way to find out is to stop trying to think may way out of that paradox and just keep creating. The time passes anyway, right?
All I know for sure is that creation trumps consumption, and expression is opposite to depression. Creation is literal life force. Even being an artist to my core, I have to remind myself of that every day and actively choose it over stagnation, numbness, and filling my awareness with slop.
So I guess this is me renewing my vows to living creatively. To create when I’m sad, tired and lonely. To create out of pure joy and whimsy. To not overthink it. Make something hideous. Make things that only make sense to me. Make things that don’t make sense to me. But to always be making things and live intentionally. This, I promise.
x Flo
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