Sarah Taylor

"men" who kiss Women or touch Women and then ignore them should be isolated to each other.

That gentle waltz, that roaring tide waiting to be made by a woman. Love, is the pain she knew as a child. Love, is the stray hair on her shoulder that's fallen out that you wish to keep. Delicate and stinging in your arms. That hair shining in the sun, begging for you to be its new master.

My work is always very ominous, I want to observer to feel as though they have accidentally stumbled into a raw moment of intimacy. I was always obsessed with watching scenes in animal documentaries where they'd shine a light on carnivores eating or socializing in the dark. I want the world to peer into my dimension in this way. I want to feel observed in my natural habitat in a way that's organic and terrifying.

It's ok