“When I was growing up the relationship I had with my mother wasn’t a very affectionate one. A rare hug from her felt as forced as a kiss on the cheek between my parent’s strained relationship. Occasionally I would test her by not saying I love you when we would say goodbye. Often she wouldn’t say it at all and at one point I carried it out for over a week until I broke and said it. I remember going to friend’s houses and being jealous of their mothers doting on them and shocked as I discovered it was normal for parents to be affectionate with one another. Coming into my early adult years I began to search for the affection and validation I felt so devoid of in my childhood. This caused me to accept hollow intimacy from various people and telling myself that it was genuine even though I knew it wasn’t. Inevitably I would end up hurt and as a way to cope with the pain I would lie in bed and hold myself pretending I was receiving comfort from whomever had hurt me. After this occurred many times, I was no longer trying to mend my pain, it became habitual for me to hold myself before I fell asleep and when I woke up. It was my way of accepting that I couldn’t expect people to love me the way I wanted but I could control how I loved myself.
The idea for this series came to me late at night while I was holding myself. I wanted to capture the women I care for doing the same and giving themselves the love they deserve.”
(via canvasly)
On the subject of love we all know how to write, but nobody knows how to read.
dante (musa trans.) / joan naviyuk kane / dante (ciardi trans.) / david foster wallace / tauba auerbach / w.s. merwin








