Rotted Foot was birthed in my imagination as an unconscious response to the seemingly endless beauty rituals women are encouraged to partake in. Having perfect, delicate feet is an integral part of this beauty standard. When my feet are not flawlessly manicured, even when completely clean and neat, I get the nagging feeling I may be hideously fucked up. To see such a delicious, bruised image of a foot like a peach gone bad is satisfying to my sense of perversity. It’s a strong foot, singular and proud despite its rot.