Trodden (nearly one month), 2020, imprinted magnolia petals

I had noticed a trodden-on magnolia petal, and admired the markings as well as the intense symbolism: a delicate piece of nature, carelessly marred by human exigency, transit, branding. I noticed, days later, the great bloom of a magnolia tree near my house, also precariously close to a hospital and COVID tent. Fully gloved and masked, I scarcely dared touch a thing outside of my home, yet, these freshly fallen petals promised a sort of safety if I could catch them upon first terrestrial contact. So the small collection began, for the duration of the bloom, and beginning of the quarantine. I would gently carry the petals home, and then crush them beneath my feet: a rumination on the toll of transit, the brevity of bloom, the proximity of mortality, the impossibility of harmless passage.