The Anatomy of Forgiveness is a one-night-only art exhibition which invites attendees to explore the many complexities of forgiveness through the eyes of over a dozen contributing artists. As viewers wander the corridors of the Metropolitan Building, they will encounter artworks that offer personal insight on the nature of forgiveness and engage the viewer’s conceptions of reconciliation and responsibility. Are we obligated to forgive? What is the difference between forgiving and "moving on"? Why can self-forgiveness be so difficult?

Together we'll explore these and other questions in an effort to chart a map for the diverse landscape that is forgiveness.





A series of photographs created between 2006 and 2008, the work facilitates a dialogue between me and my father.  In an attempt to restore a damaged relationship, these photographs were used as a means to restore memories and create an idealized version of a father/son relationship. Together we used the role of photography as a form of therapy, whether it was working through his depression and drug abuse, our nostalgia for the past or his discomfort with my sexuality.  Collaboratively making photographs became a way for us to understand and communicate with each other. 
In 2011, the cracks in my life started to show themselves again.  My life was a constant push and pull, up and down, good vs bad, and a struggle to keep myself in control of my own thoughts and emotions.  During the ups, I started more projects than I could finish, and sometimes felt so alive that I would lie on the floor and sob with the pleasure of it all.  During the downs and during the struggle, I unintentionally hurt people that I cared about and couldn't stop no matter how much I tried.  I destroyed things that I loved.  I changed good people, and for the worse.  I hurt myself.  I hit rock bottom and knew things had to change because my good would never be enough to justify my bad.
I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  I started on mood stabilizers and felt like a failure at keeping my own life in order; that my "real" self without the medication wasn't good enough.  It was a long struggle.  I hated myself for hurting people that I loved, for destroying important relationships, and for not being able to control myself without medication.
Forgiveness is sought from those that are hurt.  The work shown here is the starting point - the path for forgiveness, both the ups and the downs.  My first pill, a peace offering to those that I've hurt, a way to show that I know my faults and want to change.  In the middle, a death and a rebirth as I learn that I have to get out into the world and forgive myself, too.  The final image, making peace with things out of my control.  I am not crazy, and I will continue to work to show grace toward myself and others.


For this project I started with the idea that if I broke forgiveness into steps or categories I might understand it better. I collected interpretations, definitions and examples of forgiveness, and have illustrated some of my research on this wall. I found three central narratives, all drawn from American history. All three exemplify the topic differently, but they share a common thread: each one features a notable gesture of forgiveness. Grand displays, cultural practices, demonstrative actions that are meant to show and maybe facilitate a willingness to move on, an acceptance or reconciliation. I came away unsure if these actions actually lead to genuine forgiveness, or if they are just band aids on wounds too deep and complex to heal completely.
All text is from source materials.       
Bald spots, patches shifting over time. Trichotillomania (compulsive hair pulling) leaves changing imprints of anxiety on my scalp and head. Through a Haunting references personal photographs and aims to transcend the stigma that comes with trichotillomania by transforming the shame of its tangible destruction into sights of beauty.


The act of writing someone a postcard is a precious and quietly dwindling form of communication. It forces the writer to be succinct and direct, and unlike a text or a tweet, the postcard is a tangible and unique artifact. It can be held and read, it can be stuck up on a wall or ripped to pieces. It's a gesture that means something.
Due to it’s limited space, the postcard cuts through the nonsense and pleasantries, and in turn is an ideal forum for true, unfiltered honesty. Whether you are forgiving someone, or asking for forgiveness, it allows the sentiment to be conveyed without the frills and caveats of casual conversation.
My installation allows for visitors to this show to sit in an isolated room, alone, and write a postcard to someone. You may write whatever you wish to whoever you wish, but if you can, please try to take this opportunity to forgive someone you care about, or to ask someone you care about for forgiveness.

That magical space beyond forgiveness. Golden rays wash over you and a wonderful feeling blooms in your heart when you are suddenly reminded that you have forgotten why you needed to forgive. FORGETNESS is the cotton candy you make when you forgive and move on. Let go of the things that don't really matter and float into the future on a beautiful golden cloud.

Neon: 10mm 'Novial Gold'
Fibers: Wool Roving hand dyed with Turmeric and Saffron, a pinch of glitter for good measure.


Performances by Kris Nolte, Stefan Weiner & Julia Easterlin


Performances by Remy Schwartz & Ed Gavagan