Metamorphosis: A Call for Voices​

Thank you for being here.

This project is for all of us who have lived inside bodies that changed — and who now carry something deeper.

Metamorphosis is a forthcoming art book made of charcoal drawings, close-up studies, and the lived wisdom of women who’ve undergone mastectomy, hysterectomy, oophorectomy, and/or reconstruction.

There are two ways to participate:

1. Be drawn [ view guidelines ]

The book will feature charcoal drawings — intimate portraits of post-surgical bodies. Some are full figures; others are close-up studies of healing sites: scars, clavicles, belly buttons, sternums. If you’d like to be drawn, you can share a reference photo, or I can photograph you in person if you're nearby. Each image is created in full conversation with you — with care, consent, and tenderness at every step.

2. Share your words [ view guidelines ]

Alongside these drawings, I’m collecting short reflections to weave through the book — anonymous or credited, emotional or observational, quiet or bold. All are welcome. If you’d like to contribute, scroll down to the form below. Nothing will ever be shared without your permission, and you’ll have full editorial control over how your words appear.

Every story starts somewhere.

Here are some prompts to guide you. You can skip what doesn’t speak to you. Stay as long as you like.

    • What’s the very first thing you remember feeling in your body after waking up from surgery — temperature, pressure, pain, anything?

    • What part of your body felt unfamiliar the longest, and how did you slowly start to claim it again?

    • How did your skin respond to fabric — under a blanket, under your shirt, under your bra?

    • What sensation completely surprised you — something weird, sharp, tender, or even missing?

    • What became your go-to resting position — and how did you discover it?

    • When did your relationship to physical comfort or pleasure shift — and what became your new version of ease?

    • What was your go-to soothing thing — a snack, a show, a scent, a song — that made your nervous system go thank you?

    • What is the most beautiful thing your body has taught you?

    • When did you first speak kindly to your body again?

    • What does your scar remind you of — not just what you lost, but what you gained?

    • When did you first feel like yourself again — or like a new version of yourself?

    • What part of your personality got louder during recovery — and how did that help (or challenge) you?

    • What song best captures a mood of your recovery — or where you are now?

    • What’s the weirdest thing you Googled at 2 a.m. during recovery?

    • What post-op habit or strange little routine do you miss?

    • What part of your lineage rose up in you while you were healing?

    • What did you once believe about your body that had to be unlearned?

    • What did this experience teach you about softness — yours or someone else’s?

    • Has your tolerance for bullshit increased or decreased since surgery?

    • What’s your new party trick — emotional or otherwise?

    • What truth did your pain make impossible to ignore?

    • How has your relationship to silence changed?

    • How long did it take before you were truly bored of your own healing process?

    • What is the most ridiculous thing someone said to you while you were recovering — and how did you keep from committing a crime?

    • What’s one thing that completely surprised you during recovery — emotional, physical, or relational?

    • What’s something you no longer tolerate — in your body, your relationships, or your daily life?

    • What relationship quietly shifted — someone who showed up in a surprising way, or someone who faded out?

    • What do you think about right before you fall asleep — and has that changed since surgery?

    • What’s your “you would not believe this” story from recovery — the one you tell like an origin myth?

    • When did the story you were telling yourself fall apart — and what rose up in its place?

    • What kind of softness feels like strength to you now?

    • What did you lose that you didn’t need?

    • Who lifted you when you couldn’t lift yourself?

    • What part of you did you rediscover through suffering?

    • What do you now find completely unrelatable in other people?

You’re welcome to respond in as much or as little detail as feels right. Your words may be used in the book with care and full consent.