Katherine D. Morgan

‘Number XIX: The Sun’: Solar Variations on Joy and Grief

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‘Number XIX: The Sun’: Solar Variations on Joy and Grief

That is, in the middle of a second Covid lockdown in Edinburgh, while freshly fatherless, having had the last images of my dad, my last words to him, shunted through the light of a laptop screen, in a time when such virtually distanced dying was happening en masse, as I filmed a eulogy for the online funeral, separated by an ocean’s length from my mom and sisters, and unwrapped wax paper parcels of fresh bread sent from our friends Moss & Rosa who couldn’t come sit inside with us, it wasn’t The Tower (Upheaval) or The Hermit (Isolation) or even The Star (Healing) whose page I kept open on my desk. It was the one canvas Carrington covered totally in golden foil, ‘Number XIX: The Sun’ (Joy).

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Who I Am

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Who I Am

You are who you are. The idea is so simple, yet we keep convincing ourselves that being ourselves requires more. Ultimately, it’s taken stepping outside the surveillance of authenticity for me to find joy. I’m not trying to look for a mythical authentic figure to aspire toward. I do what I like. I do who I like. I am who I am.

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Ghost Pansy

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Ghost Pansy

Happy and haunted — two concepts I’d never put into conversation. I’d always thought it could only be one or the other, never both. How unqueer of me. I’ve revised my thinking to cherish joy because of its occasional ghostliness. I cultivate it, tend to it, as if it were the ghost pansy brought to life.

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