This last gallery of visual phantasmagoria and fantastical ocular flotsam for the year is a bit more melancholic and moody than usual, as my mood in these final days of 2020 is especially dark. But that’s only what I see when I gaze upon these works, and I like to think that art is neither positive nor negative, it exists in its own neutral, liminal space, for us to experience and appreciate, to connect with us where we are in that specific moment. So you may see something else, entirely–and I may experience it quite differently the next time I gaze upon it.
That’s where I’ll end this ramble, then. With us meeting art –and life– where we are, and with the hope that we all experience an upcoming 2021 that is not such a fucking bummer.