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ARtist: Laura Dill
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$350.00 Buy nowMultimedia by Laura Dill (19in. x 22.25in.)
"I keep asking myself: how close are we? Not in the abstract, policy-paper way, but the way you feel it at 3 AM when you can’t sleep; the heaviness in your chest when you read the news and think: We could lose it all. The vote. The hope of equality. The country itself. I have spent my life living the distance between the promise on the page and the reality in the room, being dismissed, talked over, and passed over. I have lived from the beginning of Roe to its deliberate end. I know what it means when a promise dissolves. So I went back to the document where the promise began. I spent weeks researching the voices the Declaration left out. Abigail Adams, writing to John Adams in 1776, before the ink was even dry, imploring him to remember the ladies; the women at Seneca Falls in 1848 who had to argue, formally, in a resolution, that they were equal to men as their creator intended. I included the Constitution and the 19th Amendment, which granted women the vote 144 years after Abigail’s plea. I printed each voice on parchment to match the Declaration, layering them onto it, not beside it, but over it, because that is where they belong. They always belonged there. At the bottom of the piece, one more layer. The SAVE Act, 2026. A bill already passed by the House, and moving through the Senate now, would make it fundamentally harder for Americans, and disproportionately women, to prove they have the right to vote. The argument isn’t over. It never was. Our democracy is the longest experiment in self-governance the world has ever attempted. It is also fragile in ways we do not reckon with until something cracks. It is grounded not in stone, but in norms, in honor, in what Abigail might have called better angels whispering in leaders’ ears. She whispered. They didn’t listen. But she wasn’t the last to try. And neither am I. Neither are you. “The Promise” is not a eulogy. It is a reminder that this fight has been handed down, woman to woman, generation to generation, for 250 years, and that it is now in our hands. The question the piece asks is simply this: What will you do with it?"Artwork purchased online can be picked up AFTER the exhibit ends, on or after August 2, 2026 -- or shipped to the buyer (ALL SHIPPING COSTS TO BE PAID BY THE BUYER).
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$425.00 Buy nowPhotography and Poetry by Laura Dill (18.75in. x 15.63in.)
"The Declaration’s promise of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness was never guaranteed; it was always something we had to breathe back into existence, generation by generation. I found that truth on a walk in St. Augustine, the oldest city in the nation, in the most unexpected place: a rusting pinwheel on a crooked white fence. American Rust While walking in St. Augustine, I was struck by a rusting patriotic pinwheel perched on an old white picket fence failing to contain the tiny, overgrown yard of a small, ramshackle house with flaking white paint. A rocker sat on the slanting porch, flanked by a tattered flag and a weathered front door. This home had clearly seen better, and far worse days. Nestled in the nation’s oldest city, the house had likely flown many flags as nations battled, won, and lost control of the land. I felt a kinship between this forlorn home and the state of our country, and I wondered when it had fallen into such disrepair. I puffed my cheeks and blew. The pinwheel sprang to life, stars and stripes spinning proudly once again with the force of my breath, and I was filled with hope. ©Laura Dill May 31, 2026, All Rights Reserved Photography published in Women Writing for (a) Change Anthology, (a) River Rising: Vol. VI, Metamorphosis Edition, Dec 2024. Poem adapted from the artist’s statement."Artwork purchased online can be picked up AFTER the exhibit ends, on or after August 2, 2026 -- or shipped to the buyer (ALL SHIPPING COSTS TO BE PAID BY THE BUYER).