Going Solo: Thoughts on Female Masturbation

In poetry, a woman’s sex is often compared to the delicate folds of a flower, set to bloom; delicate, soft and waiting. A passive recipient, ceding control to an intangible partner.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June...

My sex, however, does not wait on anyone. My touch is familiar to me; attentive, active and powerful. A feminine touch that is anything but docile and yielding.

My excitement is an honest space: feverish, intense and faithful. My ascension is a journey with me at the helm; connected mind and flesh, thunderous conclusions, and final whimpers.

My pleasure is not a mystery. It is not a dirty secret. It is not a silent crash in the forest when no one else is present. I nurture my pleasure to grow and bloom of it’s own accord, because my pleasure is my own.

Campaign for Women

Multidisciplinary art project and campaign responding to the hypocrisy and misogyny represented by the Trump candidacy. Creating art work as digital graphics, photography, street stickers and embroidery.