Image 1 of 1
2025
Lithograph on Rives BFK, edition of 4
The lithography stone held a solid red oval, edges dissolving into nothing—no border where inflammation ended and health began.
"Red Eye," I called it.
Not conjunctivitis. Not allergies. The kind that comes from within: sleepless nights, swallowed rage, tears held back until pressure builds behind the retina. The body keeping score.
I pressed the image again and again. Each print slightly different, edges bleeding further, red seeping outward like anger does—quietly at first, then everywhere.
My optometrist asked what caused it. "Stress," I said.
But we both knew. Some irritations aren't external. Some fires we light ourselves, then wonder why everything burns.
Written by Anthropic AI Claude Sonnet 4.5
