our goal is to support our artists and writers--20% of sales go to the artist and 20% to the writer. the remainder supports wordandcolour.com, a space of dialogue between artists and writers that aims to change oppressive narratives with stories inspired by art
joyce kidd's full text on a sense of home:
"There is a home in my head. It is far away and surrounded by trees. There is lots of space around it: were you to walk away from it, your legs would get too tired and your throat too dry to keep going before you got to anywhere else. You wouldn’t see a single soul. Maybe one strange soul, friendly but silent, wearing a hat older than them. Even better, there is lots of distance from it. People forget about you when you are there, not the painful obscurity of inattention, but the peaceful forgetting of having faded away, of being missed not too much because of imminent but undetermined return. They forget about you. They do not call. They do not text or email. The world slips off your shoulders. No one knows where you are, but maybe for the first time, you know exactly where you are.
The house is sunlit and airy, so that going outside feels like changing states more than passing through walls. I can be naked most of the time there, or wear the comfiest things I own, the stained and holey things. I write. I write pages and pages, and because almost everyone has forgotten me, I can write things with the certainty that they will not be read. Sometimes I think with a pang of the few people who cannot have forgotten me. My hands are the only ones that touch me.
How long would this last, I wonder? How long before space began to feel tight? Is there somewhere between there and here, I wonder? And is there anyone who would go with me?"