KATHERINE CINTRON CHAMOMILE

As a person who grew up with a difficult upbringing, I have repressed many of my memories as a coping mechanism, causing me to forget most of my adolescent life. I create art that reclaims my childhood through nostalgia and creative storytelling to rekindle a lost part of me. As a child, I knew it was time for bed once I smelled the aroma of tea herbs brewing in my mother’s cup. It was routine to help her relax at night, and I soon developed the same habit after mimicking my mother’s love for utilizing the night’s stillness to soften from the relentless day. Flattened teabags form the woman’s nightcap and the rising crescent moon behind her, signifying the preparation of nightfall. Her glossy eyes and distant stare focus out of reality and into a subconscious dream. The woman’s lackadaisical gaze and the smell of dried chamomile evokes the memories of hushed nights I enjoyed with my mother. I believe there is a certain tranquil beauty she shares similar to those of humans right before they sleep, as this is the time we are ever truly resting.