i’ve never seen my grandma wear this jacket but it was hers (i spend a lot of time angry at death for happening), 2023, vinyl on acrylic
In meat sack? (2022), part of the work is presented on vinyl, it’s always an edition of 1, unless multiples are printed at once. The photographic prints currently exist in an edition of two, as some have been destroyed and the current editions might also be destroyed by the time you’re reading this. I understand more can always be made and just as much can always be lost.
The two photographic prints are portraits. At the time, my body had gone through a pretty drastic change (I gained a lot of weight in a short span of time) and had been dealing with the reactions (not negative, thankfully) to it. My body, for months, became a huge reminder that (a) nothing fits anymore! (b) *everything* is temporary! and (c) everything is ever changing! I am merely a sack of meat and as I age, I change, and as I change, I inch closer to the inevitables (death, illness, wisdom, pain). The portraits were shot on medium format black and white film, again as a gesture of emphemerality as film is a time sensitive medium and as it ages, particularly when it is stored improperly, it can be lost**. My body looks like this right now but may not look like this 10 years from now. It didn’t look like this three months before these images were taken. I may not (and won’t) always look like this. One day my body won’t exist at all. But until then, I will always be a sack of meat.
The piece is meant to feel like the viewer is being shown something they were not supposed to see, as the image is intimate, domestic, and revealing. This is a nod to my grandma, as when we (my mother, a cousin, and I) were cleaning her house after her death, we discovered an extremely intimate photo of her that she [likely] never wanted anyone to see.
There is a transparency presented with this piece, which is hung overlayed on top of the first portrait, covering my face, and features the words “a bag of meat”, as a reminder.
---
**Chemical reactions occur due to environmental conditions, the chemical structure of the material (cellulose acetate plastic), and time. Cellulose acetate (Safety) film typically goes through vinegar syndrome (aka acetate film base degradation) which is the release of vinegar (acetic acid) as it breaks down and causes the film to become sticky and brittle.
loved by all (péro tu) , 2024, archival pigment print
i'm not coming to you as a woman (woman to woman) , 2025, archival pigment print
So much of my work is about my relationships with/to others and how I feel about/within them. There’s often a need to clarify these relationships… or clarify my feelings for the person in the relationship. Those thoughts often change, and aren’t consistent. They’re also layered and complex. i’m not coming to you as a woman (woman to woman) [2025] and it’s good to not know you anymore (2025) are images that are focused on the attempt to do something in good faith but the good faith act is ultimately still viewed as harmful (by not only the person but the society surrounding the person). It’s also kind of about stepping out of line, not necessarily for one’s own satisfaction but just for truth’s sake. Being so scared of the truth that a desperation to know it guides one’s actions. This fear of the truth that leads to know it is something that also contributes to my death anxiety.
In simple terms (as I risk exposing too much about myself/upbringing publicly, on the internet), glitch (nothing to be ashamed of) [2025], I’m essentially exposing myself via the presentation of [what could be, and has been described as] sexually explicit images of myself. The piece simply represents my feelings on identity and growth (or change), as both of those concepts aren't static.
The background is an image of me, "rotting" on my bean bag. The image has been risographed to obscure the figure, as if the figure is a ghost image. Red-orange is representative of destruction, while blue is simulating sorrow. loved by all is a love poem. Through this poem I pose the question: Is being loved by all a sustainable way to go about existing and moving throughout the world? The dichotomy between loved by all and i’ll always mean well exists in the act of this extremely long period of “negative” (I don’t necessarily believe it’s all negative) rumination but the primary difference is that in i’ll always mean well, the question becomes: Does “meaning well” matter when the outcome is still harmful?
My grandmother was pretty young when she died. I was a junior in high school and it has had a profound effect on me as she was one of the people who primarily took care of me (something that happens with a lot of Black people whose parents have them pretty young).
Stories I've been told have always described her as being this entirely different person than the one I knew. It was interesting to be confronted with the idea of her being human after she died rather than when she was still alive (although I had begun to confront this while she was actively dying through the idea of mortality and having to face it head on). Going through her things and having to throw things away and finding things that she probably never wanted anyone to ever find was [in a weird way] exciting. It was a reminder to us that she was simply a person.
I found this coat while we were packing up her clothes. I had never ever seen this coat in my life. She had never worn it. I held on to it and didn't start wearing it until winter of 2022. The background of the image is a place where I currently spend most of my time as I'm in grad school. The beige of the building behind me represents the color of the brick building that I grew up in while the strobe not being powerful enough to adequately light the world around me represents being swallowed by darkness... being swallowed by and facing the inevitable– death.
stayin' alive ('til death do us part)), 2022, vinyl on acrylic (occasionally matte adhesive vinyl)
it's good to not know you anymore, 2025, archival pigment print
i'll always mean welll , 2024, archival pigment print
My grandmother was pretty young when she died. I was a junior in high school and it has had a profound effect on me as she was one of the people who primarily took care of me (something that happens with a lot of Black people whose parents have them pretty young).
Stories I've been told have always described her as being this entirely different person than the one I knew. It was interesting to be confronted with the idea of her being human after she died rather than when she was still alive (although I had begun to confront this while she was actively dying through the idea of mortality and having to face it head on). Going through her things and having to throw things away and finding things that she probably never wanted anyone to ever find was [in a weird way] exciting. It was a reminder to us that she was simply a person.
I found this coat while we were packing up her clothes. I had never ever seen this coat in my life. She had never worn it. I held on to it and didn't start wearing it until winter of 2022. The background of the image is a place where I currently spend most of my time as I'm in grad school. The beige of the building behind me represents the color of the brick building that I grew up in while the strobe not being powerful enough to adequately light the world around me represents being swallowed by darkness... being swallowed by and facing the inevitable– death.
i’ve never seen my grandma wear this jacket but it was hers (i spend a lot of time angry at death for happening), 2023, vinyl on acrylic
stayin' alive ('til death do us part)), 2022, vinyl on acrylic (occasionally matte adhesive vinyl)
loved by all (péro tu) , 2024, archival pigment print
The background is an image of me, "rotting" on my bean bag. The image has been risographed to obscure the figure, as if the figure is a ghost image. Red-orange is representative of destruction, while blue is simulating sorrow. loved by all is a love poem. Through this poem I pose the question: Is being loved by all a sustainable way to go about existing and moving throughout the world? The dichotomy between loved by all and i’ll always mean well exists in the act of this extremely long period of “negative” (I don’t necessarily believe it’s all negative) rumination but the primary difference is that in i’ll always mean well, the question becomes: Does “meaning well” matter when the outcome is still harmful?
i'll always mean welll , 2024, archival pigment print
In meat sack? (2022), part of the work is presented on vinyl, it’s always an edition of 1, unless multiples are printed at once. The photographic prints currently exist in an edition of two, as some have been destroyed and the current editions might also be destroyed by the time you’re reading this. I understand more can always be made and just as much can always be lost.
The two photographic prints are portraits. At the time, my body had gone through a pretty drastic change (I gained a lot of weight in a short span of time) and had been dealing with the reactions (not negative, thankfully) to it. My body, for months, became a huge reminder that (a) nothing fits anymore! (b) *everything* is temporary! and (c) everything is ever changing! I am merely a sack of meat and as I age, I change, and as I change, I inch closer to the inevitables (death, illness, wisdom, pain). The portraits were shot on medium format black and white film, again as a gesture of emphemerality as film is a time sensitive medium and as it ages, particularly when it is stored improperly, it can be lost**. My body looks like this right now but may not look like this 10 years from now. It didn’t look like this three months before these images were taken. I may not (and won’t) always look like this. One day my body won’t exist at all. But until then, I will always be a sack of meat.
The piece is meant to feel like the viewer is being shown something they were not supposed to see, as the image is intimate, domestic, and revealing. This is a nod to my grandma, as when we (my mother, a cousin, and I) were cleaning her house after her death, we discovered an extremely intimate photo of her that she [likely] never wanted anyone to see.
There is a transparency presented with this piece, which is hung overlayed on top of the first portrait, covering my face, and features the words “a bag of meat”, as a reminder.
---
**Chemical reactions occur due to environmental conditions, the chemical structure of the material (cellulose acetate plastic), and time. Cellulose acetate (Safety) film typically goes through vinegar syndrome (aka acetate film base degradation) which is the release of vinegar (acetic acid) as it breaks down and causes the film to become sticky and brittle.
i'm not coming to you as a woman (woman to woman) , 2025, archival pigment print
it's good to not know you anymore, 2025, archival pigment print
So much of my work is about my relationships with/to others and how I feel about/within them. There’s often a need to clarify these relationships… or clarify my feelings for the person in the relationship. Those thoughts often change, and aren’t consistent. They’re also layered and complex. i’m not coming to you as a woman (woman to woman) [2025] and it’s good to not know you anymore (2025) are images that are focused on the attempt to do something in good faith but the good faith act is ultimately still viewed as harmful (by not only the person but the society surrounding the person). It’s also kind of about stepping out of line, not necessarily for one’s own satisfaction but just for truth’s sake. Being so scared of the truth that a desperation to know it guides one’s actions. This fear of the truth that leads to know it is something that also contributes to my death anxiety.
In simple terms (as I risk exposing too much about myself/upbringing publicly, on the internet), glitch (nothing to be ashamed of) [2025], I’m essentially exposing myself via the presentation of [what could be, and has been described as] sexually explicit images of myself. The piece simply represents my feelings on identity and growth (or change), as both of those concepts aren't static.