a hostile message about my work touched something i recognised. what began as anger at someone else's concealment became harder to separate from the ways i edit, soften and control what i allow others to see.

instagram made me think too much about how the work would appear before i had even made it. after years of deleting accounts and starting again, i decided it could have a smaller and more practical role.

during several weeks in south africa, race kept entering ordinary conversation in ways i found difficult to ignore. staying quiet avoided constant confrontation, but i began noticing what that restraint was doing to me as well.