Self-Portraiture

Pomegranates

About ‘Pomegranates’

October 2023 and all the Pomegranate fruits are dead. By dead, I mean eaten; devoured by a creature, perhaps bird, perhaps squirrel, perhaps Persephone herself. They hung on the tree, hollow and rotting. I picked them all — as if they’d been ripe — and peered into the basket. It seemed fitting that the tree — which every year, for the past five years, has been burgeoning without incident — had been consumed. The fruits offering sustenance to something or someone else. Not me. Not…us.

“Us.” Meaning me and my partner of 7.5 years. Our relationship, as we know it, ended three weeks prior… Keep reading in the journal about my inspiration for this project.