February | freeze

It hasn’t been an easy time to start something new. Call it planets and this seemingly endless time of shedding, call it the weight of the world and the tremendous amounts of fear, rage, and grief we are all, somehow, supposed to metabolize like so many microplastics, call it living in a city encased in frozen garbage, call it love’s locational logistics, call it perimenopause, but my ability to conjure weather systems of generative growth from within this terrarium of me has been addled of late. The new classes I meant to launch haven’t quite launched, the to-do lists forgone in favor of time in the studio, making artwork that feels like artifacts returning from an alternative future, another possible world.

It is also a time of reflecting and remembering. Today is the one year anniversary of the passing of my father, Dennis. Much has happened since that day, and, as I roughly outlined in the previous few posts, I have been attempting to write about it all— all the grief, the love, the portals of new feelings and experiences opening me into new relations, which continue to constitute this field of sensation, perception, and intention I call Krista, in surprising ways.

And, as I said in previous posts, this writing is tender and is therefore sharing itself in a quieter space. I don’t expect I’ll be recording these as audio pieces, as some of these words are just not ready to be spoken aloud. I wrote about each month, starting with February 2025. And so we begin here:

February | freeze:

Some bodies of water are like wombs, but the lake was frozen and everything was still

The drive between the house and the hospital is short and dark. Lake effect weather on country roads has us sliding sideways but we’re ok, going slow. I bought locally made moonshine from the gas station and we opened it in the kitchen my dad built after stamping off the snow and removing boots and coats, our exhaustion dissolving into hysterical laughter, eyes watering as we each take a sip. Tomorrow they move him to Cleveland and the drive will be longer.