For most of us, how we assign color to an object depends on what we think the object “is” and what color it is supposed to be -- grass is green. What I now see, because I stared at it long and hard enough, was that the degree and tone of light changes the color we perceive it to be
Glass is an untamable medium, continually floating in the lingering discourse between Art and Craft. I try to control and manipulate glass dust into precise patterns, but once the work is loaded into the kiln, heat and physics take over
In 2009 I traveled near South Korea's Demilitarized Zone to visit and write an article about the then 79 year old shaman Kim Keum Hwa. During my second visit, she surprised me by asking me to get up and dance. After, and for the duration of the day, she and several of her disciples encouraged me to pursue a path as a shaman.
One time when I was young my father asked me to help him in the shop by sanding some wood. I began sanding the board against the grain. When my Dad barked at me for it I threw the sanding block down and never helped him again. So perhaps it’s fitting that for the past thirteen years my work has focused almost exclusively on the natural beauty of wood.
My family never identified as Creole. We always identified as Black. Creole was an integral aspect of our lives, but we embraced it as a way of life; we didn't identify as it. As I create this work my thoughts are circling around my Creole ties and notions of bloodlines and legacy.
Abandoning Reasonskittering propositions
damned to believing itself
we choose not to control
the burning breakdowns in logic
we’ve opened between us
Love, Past Continuous
there are no forevers