︎
fia garry
︎


            ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠛⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⢠⡄⠛⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⡸⠰⡀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠐⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢠⡃⠀⢡⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢹⢸⡇⠀⠀⡄⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⢆⣴⣤⣿⡇⠀⠀⠐⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⡤⠀⠀⠀⢹⣏⣿⣽⡟⠀⠀⠐⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣀⠠⠤⠤⠀⢐⡻⡗⣛⡒⠂⠠⢤⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢾⣿⡚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠷⠄⠀⠈⠉⠝⠛⡯⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢾⡉⠛⠒⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⣤⣵⣶⣾⡿⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⣫⡾⣻⢟⡬⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⢞⣥⢞⣡⢟⣞⢼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢿⣥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡵⢓⡵⢛⣵⣟⣵⣺⡦⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀
⠀⠈⠒⢄⣠⠀⣀⣀⠀⢀⣾⣿⢾⣽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠒
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠘⠓⠒⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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3 layer woodcut
2 layer woodcut
2 color stone litho
2 layer woodcut self portrait
linocut
linocut
stone litho
collagraph, state 1
collagraph, state 2
collagraph detail
oil monotype
oil monotype
copper etching with watercolor
copper etching
monotype and chine-collé on cut paper with found 127 superslide
hand colored monotype on muslin after Goya

woodcut, linocut, monotype, etching, collagraph, stone litho  
				


				
			
		


		

		
		
					

				
			

	


			
	

		
		

			
				
				

					
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢀⣠⣄⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠻⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠘⠿⠏⢽⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣭⣏⣿⣿⣿⣻⣤⡆⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠏⠙⠛⠛⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀








				


				
			
		


		

		
		
					

				
			

	


			
	

		
		

			
				
				

					



deathbook



deathbook by fia garry
Lend me your urns. Listen to this. I know what a prep room smells like.
I know what kind of casket is the most expensive.
There are shelves full of ashes in that place.
I used to think it was selfish. Then I wondered what it'd be like to take home a box of dust that used to be able to laugh.
My mother refuses to let me lay down in a casket "because it's too morbid"
My mother is filing a death certificate for a man who got his head stomped in up the road from the first house I ever lived in. 
I am doing data entry. Didn't realize that teacher died. (Or that she was a Pisces) `Til now. 
My mother is dressing and casketing a couple whose son shot them in their hearts. Double homicides are a lot of work.
My mother is embalming the body of an eleven-year-old. 
I am pulling weeds. Trying to make this place look nice.
I wonder what happened to the kids who got sick from soaking their joints in embalming fluid.
I'm setting up too many chairs for too few people.
Men in uniform do their sacred choreography. In unison, they salute a pink ceramic cupcake filled with ash. My mother cries because "Taps gets her every time."
My mother is good at her job.
I dig holes in the dirt and throw down some seeds.
I hope something sweet can grow here.
I have time.
We have time.

A short book I made in 2021 about working for my mother in a funeral home as a teenager.

silkscreen and color pencil
				


				
			
		


		

		
		
					

				
			

	


			
	

		
		

			
				
				

					
⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠀⣄⡀⡄
⢸⡁⢀⣴⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣟⠂
⠀⠋⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠰⡿⡿⠃⢹⣿⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠛⠘⠁⠘⠹⠀⠀


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