TAR and FEATHERS

Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 7, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026

The practice or tar and feathering was a form of public punishment and humiliation that originated in England in the 12th century and continued in North America up to the 20th century. Boiling pitch was poured onto the victim who was then covered with feathers. Although the removal of the tar afterward often implied the peeling of layers of the skin, the sufferer usually survived the physical and psychological torture. The Tar and Feathers series is about how we can turn distress into strength. It’s about resiliency.

If one throws tar at me, I build roads.

If one covers me with feathers, I make wings.

Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 4, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 5, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 6, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 9, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 10, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 11, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 14, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 15, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 16, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 18, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 21, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 22, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 23, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 24, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 25, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026
Eve Picher, Tar and Feathers 26, ink and pencil on paper, 11×15 inches, 2026

I come from the deepest darkness

I navigated damned waters

Traveled through cursed lands

Lived in doomed castles

Been forgotten in the gloomiest donjons

I was torched, raped, decapitated

My tongue is now out into the wind

To tell stories of impossible joy

My hands feel the air for the first time

My brain unfolds its thoughts freely

My hair releases swarms of possibilities.