Inspired by a friend's heartfelt message checking in after the tumultuous American election, I responded with a phrase that resonated deeply: "I am alright, except for The Everything." In that moment, a flood of emotions, anxieties, and existential dread crystallized into a single, haunting concept—The Everything. It wasn’t just about political turmoil, economic uncertainty, or decaying human rights globally; it was all of it, simultaneously. The Everything was the relentless, overwhelming saturation of bad news, loss, fear, and helplessness that seemed to permeate every waking moment. It was a name for the unnamable, a shape given to a shapeless weight.

Drawing on my lifelong love of fantasy and roleplaying games, I reimagined this emotional landscape through a mythic lens. I thought of the classic Dungeons & Dragons monster—the beholder—a floating orb of eyes, each one capable of casting a debilitating spell. Like the beholder, The Everything is a creature of chaos and paralysis, omnipresent and all-seeing, bombarding you with visions of horror, anxiety, and doom every second of the day. It’s a force that doesn’t just want to frighten you—it wants to freeze you in place, to sap your strength, to whisper that nothing you do will matter. The Everything doesn't attack directly; it overwhelms by volume, by intensity, by sheer emotional gravity. It is the invisible antagonist of our age, feeding off despair and isolation, growing stronger each time someone gives up or shuts down.

But The Everything is not invincible.

I posit that the only real antidotes are hope and community. In the face of such vast, paralyzing despair, it is human connection and shared resilience that form the true resistance. Hope is not naive optimism but a radical, deliberate act of survival. It is the small light that dares to shine in suffocating darkness. And community—whether built through friendship, mutual aid, art, activism, or simple acts of kindness—is the shield we raise together. When people check in on each other, when they tell stories, when they hold each other through grief and joy alike, they push back against the isolating force of The Everything.

Through this lens, The Everything becomes more than a metaphor. It becomes a challenge.

I recently read Alan Moore's Watchmen for the first time and was very invested and intrigued by the story. The piece is an lino print interpretation of one of the panels from chapter 7. It was a good exercise in color and technique.

I have been a huge fan of Avatar the Last Airbender for as long as I can remember, and Zuko has always been a character I love. This was an excellent way to practice curved techniques and conveying emotion through printmaking

This quote from Lord of the Rings has always resonated with me, but as the world becomes more and more chaotic, it is a good reminder that it is up to us to act. 

In my personal life, I have a deep and abiding love for the Muppets and Sesame Street. Bert and Ernie are an enduring example of the ways that queer people have envisioned and inserted ourselves into a world that is not always meant for us.

I am a big fan of Keith Haring's work and am very inspired by his life and legacy. This was an early work in my printmaking journey.