In Distantly Afflicted, Christina Forrer draws from the dual storytelling traditions that define her practice—European folklore and California cartoons—rendering emotion as fable through the physical and visual language of tapestry. A lone figure dominates the scene, her expression tense with anger or resistance, fists clenched around golden lightning bolts that arc upward into a swirling, flower-laden cloud crowned by a pink-and-gold castle. Dream and distress meet in a single, searing image.
Forrer is known for her vibrant weavings that explore the complexities of human psychology. Her characters, often exaggerated and emotionally raw, inhabit surreal, symbol-heavy worlds that reflect both personal anxieties and broader social tensions. In Distantly Afflicted, she distills those themes into a single figure—isolated, expressive, and visibly overwhelmed. The castle above might suggest fantasy or unreachable ideals, but here it’s fused to an emotional storm, tangled in clouds and flowers that hint at both beauty and burden.
Using a medium historically reserved for noble and religious narratives, Forrer replaces saints and deities with flawed, emotional humans. Her works are not just visual stories, but psychological landscapes—intimate, strange, and deeply felt. Distantly Afflicted reads like a modern myth of internal pressure, stitched with both humor and intensity, where personal emotion becomes epic and ordinary people take center stage.