In my own life my bouts with depression had been lifted with the birth of my daughter – but only because I needed them too. So close to fixating on the many unsettling facts of my pregnancy and her birth, I made a daily effort to turn away from the abyss. The artist’s own a careful blend of one part hopeful and one part nihilistic, left me hanging, with nothing much to tip me toward one or the other – a dangerous place to be for any person postpartum. Indeed, some of the subjects themselves are literally on the edge; one on top of a building, nude against the silver roof, body small and pink. As if at any moment, she might choose to leave it all behind.