Make Yourself Comfortable.

Sisyphos was punished to roll a rock up a hill eternally for cheating death twice.

More people died of overdoses than Covid in 2021. Studies show that American unemployment created by the global economy directly spurred a renewed reliance on opioids. Moving to so-called “New England” in the wake of grieving so many friends lost to overdose, I witnessed the staggering correlation between the national numbers of OD’s and the architecture of abandoned industry that makes up so much of the landscape.

Capitalism strips individuals of community. Modern technology alienates people from modes of production directly related to survival and beauty. We have been taught to buy disposable care and simulacrums of connection–why would it surprise anyone that humans have sought out chemical stand-ins? Why do we make it so hard for people to access joy and comfort, then criminalize a synthetic substitute for the two?

There is a fear of death in America and yet this nation seems dead-set on killing everything. It was crucial before school for me to create spaces within my community to remember loved ones who had passed. The isolation I’ve felt over the past year and a half has led me to ruminate on my own grief outside of the collective. It’s foolish to think that art can save the world. If we let go of the entitlement we have as artists that it is possible to change things, what responsibility are we left with? I believe we have an ethical obligation to point to the inequities that have bound so many people to oppression. But making conceptual performance art about my own sadness does not alleviate the pain of others nor does it prevent future loss. Yet, sometimes all we have is the ability to say “this hurts.”