This body of work explores the relationship between trauma, connection, and capitalism through four interconnected works: an oil painting, a fused glass sculpture, and two charcoal drawings on grocery bags.

The central painting depicts a man sitting alone on a park bench after throwing an entire loaf of Wonder Bread to a line of pigeons. Rather than sharing equally, he keeps only the two end pieces for himself, the part of the loaf that many people discard. The birds, marked with the familiar red, yellow, and blue colors of Wonder Bread, become extensions of the brand itself. They represent a world where attention is drawn not to the individual, but to what that individual can provide.

        The fused glass Wonder Bread loaf reinforces this relationship between trauma and commodification. Attached to the sculpture is a bread tag printed with the ICD diagnosis code for PTSD, transforming an object associated with comfort and familiarity into one that quietly carries the language of clinical diagnosis. The bread becomes both nourishment and symptom. A product whose identity is inseparable from consumption.

        The charcoal drawings on grocery bags trace the narrative leading to the painting. The man fills his shopping cart with Wonder Bread, purchases it, and returns to feed the pigeons. By drawing this sequence directly onto disposable shopping bags, the work ties acts of care and generosity to systems of commerce, suggesting that even our attempts at connection are often mediated through transactions.

       These works speak to the experience of living with PTSD in a society where worth is frequently measured by productivity, usefulness, or what can be offered in return. Trauma can distort one's understanding of reciprocity. Without a stable sense of what healthy relationships look like, it becomes difficult to know how much of yourself to give. Sometimes you overextend yourself, believing love or acceptance must be earned through endless generosity. Other times you withdraw completely, uncertain whether your presence alone has value. The result is a constant negotiation between self preservation and self sacrifice.

       The man gives away everything nourishing and survives on what remains, not because anyone asked him to, but because he believes connection requires that exchange. The pigeons are neither cruel nor compassionate; rather, they are indifferent. They cannot recognize the cost of what has been given because they only respond to the offering itself.

      Ultimately, this work questions what happens when our understanding of love becomes transactional. It asks whether we can imagine relationships where our value is not determined by what we provide, but by our willingness to simply exist alongside one another.