“Hand Stuff” comprises hands in the act of loving affection or exquisitely expressing the inner thoughts of their body. I began tuning into hand expression when I noticed an older man on the subway with his hand so gently and familiarly holding his cane as he sat. Following this, hand moments began appearing everywhere- a young couple holding hands in the park; a grandma with her baby grandchild, one hand propping up a baby butt; another couple draping hands gently across a forearm, another around a waist. 

Hands are notoriously hard to represent for artists, in part because they are so expansively expressive. They reveal the inner thoughts that even we don’t know we’re feeling. They clench, grasp an upper arm, cover the heart in protection, or caress the stomach to self soothe. We often don't realize we’re touching ourselves. Hands have infinite subtle but meaningful articulations. Small bones and small tendons express emotion with each twist, elongation, or clutch.

I’ve long been attuned to my father’s hands. They are beautiful, with long fingers and tanned skin. Quiet hands. My mother’s hands have been her everlasting chagrin. She calls them her monkey hands or bird feet. They’re squat with thick big fingers, full of work. They have deep crevices from moisture and effort, but what they touch, they fill with love.