Each poster is hand-printed and handled, to make sure that only the highest quality is offered and sent out. The matte paper and high quality of inks make for a vibrant image which looks great both framed, and au-naturel. Printed in Los Angeles, CA, on Epson Enhanced Matte Paper, heavyweight stock, high color gamut, using Epson UltraChrome HDR ink-jet technology. Framed posters offer the same, museum-quality printed poster, but wrapped in a protective black frame. The frame is lightweight and includes a shatter-resistant acrylite front protector, so it won't break in the mail. International orders may be subject to customs duties & taxes.
In my illustrations, I've always puzzled with this idea of how to get different sensations across visually - like how do I visually represent the taste of something, the smell, the feel of it, its sound; in a comprehensive and uncomplicated way. Here I have grappled with the idea of touch, which is, I think, the only feeling that really grounds us in our bodies. The locus of most of our senses is our head. Intuitively that makes sense - that is where our brain is, and supposedly where our consciousness is located. I think (at least for me) it is easy to get stuck up there. But touch spans our entire bodies in the form of millions and millions of nerves, connecting us to the whole world, and to each other. Touch has also become a very guarded and controlled sensation, one that is scarce, fleeting, socially unacceptable at times. The control is absolutely necessary in certain situations - that is not what I wish to critique. Instead I would like to consider how harmful it is that a gay couple cannot comfortably touch hands in public without inviting attention ("positive" or negative) to themselves. It is an incredibly isolating feeling. Even friendly touch can be deemed unacceptable or wrong - especially between men. Physical affection, a huge part of expressing love in a human way, needs touch. A fearless touch, one uninhibited by the watchful eyes of all who can see it. — Gabriella Marcarelli