In my paintings, I ruminate on the same handful of shapes and ideas. Bodies are reduced to a series of repeated curves and lumps that I layer, flip, and conflate in a seemingly endless chain. In the work I ask: Can repetition, at some point, result in an escape from the same inevitable results? Does a certain amount of failure open up a portal to something different? I grapple with the perpetual absurdity, hope, and frustration that accompanies occupying a body that holds “endless potential” and endless cultural baggage. Rather than the work describing the climactic fulfillment of desire and touch, it points to the inability to fully realize these desires and a reckoning with cultural expectations of femininity, fecundity, and aging.