Read and view the work of artists from Previous Issues.
Inside my mother’s dark body, I developed lanugo and little limbs, my own fingerprints and bones. Her body recognized that my blood was not her own. Every part of her identified me as a pathogen and endeavored to destroy me. Instead of carrying vital oxygen and other essential nutrients, my bloodstream was contaminated with my mother’s antigens, triggering an immune response that identified me as an invader and urgently signaled for my removal and destruction.
I live in a world that I shape at my liking. I do this through virtual, pictorial, and sculptural movements, transferring my experiences and photographing reality through my mind’s filters. I have refined this process through years of research and experimentation. Painting for me is my first love. An important, pure love.
The shine trade kept her family fed, but Tess wanted more for her children. She was determined to keep Acey and Jessie in school. None of her kids would be joining the gangs of dirty urchins gleaning coal along the railroad tracks or shadowing delivery wagons for fallen scraps.
Lovelace told me I would need to be there for him until the end. As the disease progressed it would become more and more cumbersome, leaving no time for my social life. I could tell he was sizing me up, seeing if I was up to the task, with that smug, judgmental look, thinking he’s superior just because he’s a doctor.
