Photo: Jen Rose, Tiny Monster: Joy, Jenroseart.com, 2021

It stands on a forest of tiny points. Delicate tips that barely touch the ground hold the weight of the monster as it settles into place. Here, the yellow underbelly is a dense thicket of tines. The pale greenness splays out like a porcupine, restless, but slow, careful. She is aware of her edges, the soft bends and curves at the ends of her spikes. The light soaks into her porcelain matte surface giving the illusion of softness, an allusion to the kindness within. Gentle gradations of color drain the intensity of the hues, from pale jade to clearest celadon, while the yellow tines remind you of a part of a flower you saw once, but the memory eludes you.

Readjusting after pulling the nylon cords, the soft grunt and tinnie sounds are comforting. Tiny frictions and movements make sounds like hands rubbing together, warm, or like ice cubes settling in a glass, cool. The pink nylon cord spills out of the front like a fountain of color. The orderly knotting and weave at the top remind what this creature truly is. She was born on a loom. The messy pink cord tail jumbles in tangles out the back with curved lines and frayed edges. She stands alert, wistful, alien; as curious about you as you are of her.

Thanks to Jen Rose for letting me borrow her work for a few days.