Jane Doe: Portrait Series
This sculptural portrait is part of my “Portrait” series. It is titled Jane Doe, for the woman who was r*ped at Cornell University, and it stands for every woman who has been r*ped, ab*sed, and mistreated or shamed, and who keeps moving forward anyway.
She is a deer, her head pale and quiet with the eyes closed. Deep blue ink runs down her face and neck in long drips and branching lines, like tears, or like cracks spreading through porcelain. The ink pools across the base and creeps outward, so the pain doesn’t stay contained in the figure.
Her horns are part of her and have grown with her, but they are also broken and wounded. Clusters of red beads mark the injuries like fresh blood. Around them, dark silk flowers in burgundy, plum, and deep purple spill down the back of her head and neck, with a few sunflowers among them. She is beautiful and hurt at once, and she is still standing.
This piece asks what it would look like if we showed our pain. The answer is here: grief that drips and spreads, strength that is wounded but still present, and beauty that keeps blooming through it. Jane Doe is nameless on purpose, so many women can see themselves in her.
Jane Doe: Portrait Series
This sculptural portrait is part of my “Portrait” series. It is titled Jane Doe, for the woman who was r*ped at Cornell University, and it stands for every woman who has been r*ped, ab*sed, and mistreated or shamed, and who keeps moving forward anyway.
She is a deer, her head pale and quiet with the eyes closed. Deep blue ink runs down her face and neck in long drips and branching lines, like tears, or like cracks spreading through porcelain. The ink pools across the base and creeps outward, so the pain doesn’t stay contained in the figure.
Her horns are part of her and have grown with her, but they are also broken and wounded. Clusters of red beads mark the injuries like fresh blood. Around them, dark silk flowers in burgundy, plum, and deep purple spill down the back of her head and neck, with a few sunflowers among them. She is beautiful and hurt at once, and she is still standing.
This piece asks what it would look like if we showed our pain. The answer is here: grief that drips and spreads, strength that is wounded but still present, and beauty that keeps blooming through it. Jane Doe is nameless on purpose, so many women can see themselves in her.
