[18+] Playing With Flour (2020) ((install)) May 2026

By the end of the year, flour had been redefined. It was no longer just a binder or a thickener. It was a stand-in for snow in a summer of isolation. It was a sculpting material for those desperate to build something. And for the 18+ crowd, it was a permission slip to be childish again—to smear, throw, and dive in without a recipe.

In a darker, more literal interpretation, the “18+” tag also acknowledges the slapstick horror of the act. As any adult who has tried to separate an egg white with floury fingers knows, the kitchen can become a site of existential comedy. Flour gets everywhere—in the crevices of your phone case, under your fingernails, up your nose. It forms a paste when mixed with sweat. In 2020, when anxiety was a constant low hum, this absurd, frustrating, messy reality was a gift. You cannot spiral about mortality while trying to wipe flour off the ceiling. The mess anchors you to the present. [18+] playing with flour (2020)

Playing with flour in 2020 was never about the bread. It was about the dust cloud. It was about the five seconds of white-out chaos where nothing else existed. In a year defined by absence, we found presence in the most mundane of powders. We learned that adulthood isn’t about staying clean; it’s about knowing exactly when to make a beautiful, edible mess. And then, of course, sweeping it up—because the dishes, unlike the pandemic, do eventually end. By the end of the year, flour had been redefined