I touched my grandmother’s hands and saw her pain; having advanced osteoporosis, she focused on using her hands anyway. Peeling peas, slowly cooking, singing and clapping and at the palm of her touch was a deep love for so many. In her blue room in Mexico, she enjoyed the warmth and relief it brought to her bones. Grandma’s hands, a song by Bill Withers, reminds me to celebrate them in every way surrounded by flowers.
2021 40 x 57 in Digital collage on cotton, applique, and quilted on cotton