98℉

An only art edition + meditation during a heatwave

the print. inspired by the stained glass work of @alexandra.comb

The humid heat sticks to your skin like cling wrap. If you stand still long enough it will choke you. The backs of your thighs burn against the leather of the driver’s seat. The AC can’t cool your irritation fast enough. A bead of sweat begins at the back of your knee and runs the length of your calf. Down past the Achilles and the heel. Stopping to puddle somewhere around the arch of your foot. A thimble-size pool in the bottom of your shoe. A body of water all your own. Maybe it’s the weather or current affairs. You’ve never been bold or stupid enough to skinny dip. Always too worried over getting caught and the bugs that come out at night. Nude beaches are a concept you understand but can’t believe, like Bigfoot or Nessie. Really though, if you are honest with yourself — and the numbers on the thermostat demand honesty — you have not been comfortable in your body for a long time. A temporary tenant. Not strong enough to wholly accept but too therapized for self-shaming. You and your body have found refuge in a demilitarized zone. Energy and thought devoted to actively not thinking of your body outside of its purpose as a utility that keeps you alive and moving. Today though, you believe you could get over it all. Leap over the demarcations. Run right up to the water’s edge. Slip off your shoes and clothes. Watch the light reflect on the cool surface. You and your body would be the only witnesses. The sun itches against your skin, right where the bra straps dig and underwear cuts. This flimsy idea is more instinct than logic; but suddenly it seems to be the only remedy for this brutal start to the season. You aren’t careful as you undress. Slowing down gives room for thinking and runs the risk of your reflection stopping this before it has even begun. The bra and underwear fall to the ground like litter, discarded with no concern of consequences.

the initial sketch// the carving