Yet the Serpent Refused to Die recontextualizes the story of Archangel Michael slaying the serpent by equating it to the killing and violence that is enacted on Black queer people in the name of a god. Oftentimes, in organized religion, there is a decentering of all “others” from a narrative or tale until their existence proves to be usef
Yet the Serpent Refused to Die recontextualizes the story of Archangel Michael slaying the serpent by equating it to the killing and violence that is enacted on Black queer people in the name of a god. Oftentimes, in organized religion, there is a decentering of all “others” from a narrative or tale until their existence proves to be useful. Queer people of color’s existence has been used as nothing but a tool to push a righteous narrative, and because of that, our likeness has been misconstrued to be the antithesis of all morality and goodness, which is then used to justify targeted violence against us.
Our agency in our own stories has been stolen from us.
Our agency in our own lives has been stolen from us.
I refuse to let our agency get snatched from our own hands again.
The serpent was killed for its scales- for its reputation- but the name of its assailant lives on in glory. Blessed be to those who are slain in the name of any. Man heard word from above to end that who slither, yet the Serpent refused to die.
First Lily is a self portrait reflecting how I have come to understand myself post-academia. The orange lily is a motif that I use in my work to represent acquired experiences and newfound understandings of one's identity. This fantastical creature has these lilies growing around it, showing how I have gotten to know myself as an individu
First Lily is a self portrait reflecting how I have come to understand myself post-academia. The orange lily is a motif that I use in my work to represent acquired experiences and newfound understandings of one's identity. This fantastical creature has these lilies growing around it, showing how I have gotten to know myself as an individual in this time. The five eyes of the creature represent the five people that I have had on my mind each day: my mother, father, grandmother, godmother, and cousin. The background consists of fabric scraps from other projects, showing that I am, and will continue to be, a collection of everything that I have already done.
I Have Myself to Look Up To - Out For illustrates a friend of mine’s journey to sobriety.
The three faces of this figure (right to left) represent feeling stuck and lost in one’s patterns, acceptance and dedication to growth and change, and the freedom, light, and hope that comes with progress. Orange lilies, representing a newfound under
I Have Myself to Look Up To - Out For illustrates a friend of mine’s journey to sobriety.
The three faces of this figure (right to left) represent feeling stuck and lost in one’s patterns, acceptance and dedication to growth and change, and the freedom, light, and hope that comes with progress. Orange lilies, representing a newfound understanding of one’s identity in my work, grow from and around the figure, appearing dried and brambly at the bottom while getting increasingly more vibrant as they grow upwards. Buds hang within the figure’s field of view as a promise of flowers in the future, and light beams shine from the eyes of all the faces because hope was always present in every step of this journey, even if it couldn’t be seen.
Closing your eyes in the darkness doesn’t show you anything other than such, but closing your eyes in the sunlight will reveal to you the glow of your own skin.
As a Queer Black person, I have always had unwanted eyes on me. Growing up in conservative and predominantly white spaces, I was constantly told how different I was from everyone around me. Words like “exotic” and “unique” were used to describe me within school and social settings, and it made me feel as though I was some sort of spectacl
As a Queer Black person, I have always had unwanted eyes on me. Growing up in conservative and predominantly white spaces, I was constantly told how different I was from everyone around me. Words like “exotic” and “unique” were used to describe me within school and social settings, and it made me feel as though I was some sort of spectacle to gawk at. I felt like an outsider in my own hometown. The Queer Metamorphosis is a physical representation of what it felt like to grow up in these environments, told through the life cycle of a butterfly.
This 13 foot tall hanging soft sculpture/puppet illustrates a butterfly-human hybrid emerging from its chrysalis. The creature is a colorfully glittering spectacle at its most vulnerable; freshly birthed state. Paying homage to my ancestors and upbringing, the wings sprouting from the shoulder, arm, and hand, are inspired by native Jamaican and Greek butterflies, while the wings of the face are inspired by native New York ones.
The Queer Metamorphosis is internally constructed from upholstery foam and cardboard. The butterfly wings on the face, shoulder, hand, and arm are quilted with colorful cotton fabrics and layers of glitter tulle overtop. The same technique is used for other parts of the body, with glitter-filled fabric medium instead of tulle.
Butterflies Referenced: Southern Comma, Clouded Yellow, Silver Emperor, White Peacock, Mangrove Buckeye, Boloria Selene, Pipevine Swallowtail, Northern Metalmark, and Orange Sulfur
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