When I began my Labor of Love series, I created watercolor and ink drawings to explore a visual interpretation of the emotional landscape of caregiving and mothering. These roles are profoundly human and universal, yet, in my experience, they often feel isolating. The work is quiet and repetitive, focused on restoring the routines of those I care for. Despite its significance, the intensity and dedication behind this labor often go unnoticed. Creating these pieces mirrors that experience: the repetitive motions, my fingers tracing the same surfaces, counting moments, craving solitude, yet missing my loved ones the moment I’m alone. It often feels as though a long line of responsibilities is following me—and yet, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. The repetitive patterns in my work aren’t just a reflection of my experience—they are an extension of me, communicating the essence of caregiving.

Recently, I revisited these drawings and decided to experiment with fumage—a technique popularized by the Surrealists, in which smoke from a flame marks the paper. Like other Surrealist methods, fumage embraces chance and relinquishes control, transforming the process into a collaboration with the unknown.

Caregiving, too, is a balance between intention and surrender. While you can create systems and routines to manage the work, there’s always a level of yielding to the needs of those you care for. The marks I made with ink and watercolor are deliberate and controlled, while the fumage marks are unpredictable—an interplay of control and surrender.