Hand cut collage

Paper on paper, archival tape

9 1/2” x 6 3/4”

the last time i saw her (2026)

A woman stands alone in the middle of an empty road, her back turned to us, facing a Texaco station that could be anywhere… and nowhere. She is Honey’s grandmother, suspended in the final moment Honey ever saw her… a farewell caught between memory and myth.

Above her, the sky doesn’t just break open… it reveals itself. Clouds fracture into spiraling illusion paper, Honey’s visual signal that something isn’t what we’ve been taught to believe. Here, illusion paper becomes a metaphor for the afterlife itself… a reminder that the universe is stranger, softer, and more attentive than we imagine. The camera descending through the spirals doesn’t judge; it focuses. It says, I see you… I’ve got you.

The roadside Americana; vintage cars, gas pumps, the sun-bleached motel, becomes a quiet stage for loss. It’s the world as it was in her grandmother’s lifetime, a generational backdrop still woven into Honey’s emotional DNA. Everything holds its breath. Time pauses. Even the sky seems to wait for her to cross whatever threshold we can’t see.

In the last time i saw her, Honey turns a simple photograph into surrealist theater. A moment of human grief is stretched upward into the cosmic… the universe opening, watching, and offering the smallest gesture of comfort. This is how Honey mourns… by acknowledging the rupture and showing that beyond it, something still holds.